Chapter Text
The second week Pietro stays at the Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters is also the day he falls head over heels in love. With someone he’s just met.
It isn’t the normal every day ‘You’re-kind-of-hot-I’d-love-to-do-you” love. It’s the ‘You’re-the-bolt-of-lightning-that-struck-me-from-the-sky-and-God-help-me-I-love-you,” love. Alex is the spark that kindles his fire.
And God, Pietro is burning.
Alex is ten years his senior, but he's chiseled and mature and tempting in the moody sort of damaged way. His exterior is like steel, but Pietro senses something soft and sentimental in the way he smiles, in the way his blue eyes soften at the edges. He's mysterious and alluring with an edge of something boyish and full of mischief, and he finds his heart positively bursting with desire. To love and to be loved by this man.
When Alex's hands clasps his in a firm handshake, it leaves tingles on his skin. (As far as he knows, Alex doesn't have that mutation.) "The legendary Quicksilver,” Alex says. “It's nice to finally see the face behind the name." He’s still guarded but there’s something of amusement in his eyes.
Pietro adjusts the goggles on his head, a nervous habit, and the frozen, polite smile he’s wearing breaks into a crooked grin. "You heard I broke into the Pentagon."
And then he flushes. Jesus Christ, He thinks. Could I have said anything more stupid? It’s only what every mutant everywhere has been talking about for the last two weeks. He's expecting Alex to talk down to him and ruffle his hair like he’s a child.
"It's incredible, really,” Alex says, with ease. “I wish I could've seen it."
Pietro’s nearly oozing with delight at Alex’s words, pleased he's being treated like an equal. His control over his curiosity slips as he blurts, “Where were you, anyway?”
Alex sighs then, the light in his eyes dimming. Pietro scolds himself inwardly for asking something so personal. “Got drafted.” Alex grimaces. “A mutant war is one thing. But that? That was fucking pointless.”
“I’m sorry,” Pietro says quietly, because he really is. He’s seen what war does to people. He’s seen the torment they have to live with their entire lives.
“It’s fine,” Alex says flatly, shaking the haunting thoughts out of his head.
Pietro forces a little smile.“It’s too bad, really. You probably would’ve enjoyed the thrill of being shot at with the best of guns in America.”
Alex’s smile is back, and God, Pietro does really love his smile.
"I don't know if I find it thrilling to be shot at at all," He says dryly.
Pietro gives a shy sort of shrug. "I thought it was thrilling."
Alex laughs, actually laughs, and slings an arm around his shoulders. The weight is grounding and Pietro’s stomach is doing some kind of acrobatic routine.
If he could have this, just this, he could probably die happy.