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“Thomas.”
Tommy jumps out of his skin. What the fuck? Turning his head around, he tries to make out the silhouette of whoever the fuck has found him—he squints and squints until the figure gets closer and then it becomes impossible to ignore the huge helmet on his new visitor. Magneto.
Wait.
What?
“What?” Tommy blinks at him, standing up from the ground. “... Magneto?”
“What are you doing here, Thomas?” Magneto—honest to god, Magneto, the Master of Magnetism or whatever, local leader of the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants or whatever Magneto, asks him, approaching to stand next to him. “This does not seem anywhere close to your home.”
“And how do you know where I live, huh?” Tommy retorts, then forces himself to calm down on the quick, heated responses. God. That's Magneto. His grandpa. The fuck? “I'm just out for a night stroll. Clears your head. I don't suppose you're out for relaxing night walks, are you?”
Tommy doesn't mention that he definitely is very far away from home, on top of a hill where it's likely no one can find him. It's just one of those nights. The Kaplans are lovely, he's thankful for everything they've done and for letting him stay with him even though he's a total stranger— but, God! God. It's so overwhelming, being trapped in one place. Days blurring in together. Billy not being himself and Tommy being useless at trying to cheer him up, do anything, get him to use his powers—so precious powers… well, there's not much to do except to run off.
Running makes him come to life. It's the one time Tommy is actually himself.
“No, I'm afraid I'm not out for the same reasons as you,” he says. There's a bit of a tense silence that lasts forty years—but it might as well have been ten seconds in reality. Magneto removes the helmet, looking positively less stupid now—not that Tommy would ever say that out loud, God forbid—and more like just a guy catching up with another little guy. Who may or may not be related to him. “Are you sure everything is okay, Thomas? You look rather… tense.”
“Jesus, knock it off with the whole Thomas . Makes me feel old, you know.”
“I am old. Doesn't it feel right for me to use it?”
God, he's old.
“Whatever, fine,” Tommy sighs. “I just needed some time outside Billy's place. Breathe in air. Run really freaking fast 'cause if I spend a single second more in bed I'll actually explode,” he waves his hand dismissively. “Don't like just being in one place.”
Magneto looks down at him with what seems to be… something, like—he's certainly not mad or disappointed at Tommy, he just looks… nostalgic? Fond? Fuck if Tommy knows. Not like he's been around Magneto long enough to know what fondness looks like on him.
“You remind me of myself so much, sometimes,” he says, putting a hand on Tommy's shoulder and squeezing. “You will be going home again, will you not?”
Tommy tries to not stare pointedly at the hand on his shoulder. Is he being… affectionate? God, he's his grandfather and all, but it's so weird. Maybe in another universe, Tommy grew up with Magneto and has talks with him regularly, and maybe in that other universe he is used to Magneto putting his hand on him like he's known how to comfort him since the day he was born. Yet, he's not in that universe, so Tommy moves slightly and lets his hand drop.
He immediately misses the comfort from it. God. When's the last time Tommy hugged someone? If he tries hard enough, he can remember what it felt like to have Wanda—mom—Wanda's arms around him, warm and comforting and motherly and everything Tommy's been craving. It hasn't been that long ago, but simultaneously, it's been ten years for Tommy, it's been a lifetime, and my God is it going to be weird if he asks Magneto to put his hand again?
“Yeah, later, I don't wanna worry Billy or his parents,” Tommy grumbles. “They're asleep right now, so they don't even feel it when I'm gone. I just want to stop feeling idle. Maybe I'll get a job at a mutant-friendly place, I don't know, just—anything. I want to belong in a team again. Belong somewhere. That house is just—I love Billy but it's just—”
“Suffocating,” Magneto finishes for him, like he knew what he wanted to say before Tommy did. Tommy turns to look at him. He knows so little about Magneto, and yet, for one brief moment it's like he gets it. Like Tommy finally found someone who gets it. “You love them, but their love is suffocating.”
“...Yeah,” he says, quietly. “Is that a bad thing?”
“My boy, I believe that I am not the right man to ask this,” he smiles at him, but it's not really a joyful one. “I have made plenty of mistakes. And I keep trying to make things right—but especially by my family. I will have an answer for you eventually, but know this: it is not a strange thing to feel, nor is it uncommon. I understand you.”
And, well, that's better than being told he's not terrible for feeling like this or being told he shouldn't be taking everything for granted. At least it's acknowledgement. At least it lets Tommy know he's not alone. At least it's like he belongs somewhere, even if somewhere is “club of people with complicated feelings” and the only other member there is Magneto.
“Uh, thanks, I guess,” Tommy ends up saying. “I don't have to go home until like, I dunno, an hour or two. You sticking around, grandpops?”
Magneto's eyebrows shoot up. “Grandpops?”
“Not a fan? You prefer grandpa? Gramps? Mr. Lehnsherr?”
He actually laughs a little at that. “Considering your plethora of choices, I suppose grandpa is… adequate.”
“I'll keep that in mind, then,” Tommy nods.
“I think I would like to stay with you until you leave, if that is alright,” Magneto says, sitting down on the ground. Tommy sits down next to him, and they both watch the city from afar—the city lights bright in the middle of the night. “Do you like chess, Thomas?”
“Pffft. You kidding? Sitting down and waiting for the other player to move a piece? I'd rather die.”
Magneto chuckles. Wow, he wasn't lying—he's really trying to do right by his family. His family. That Tommy is also a part of. He lives one crazy life.
“Still, next time I see you, perhaps we could play a round or two,” he says. “It makes me wonder what it would be like, to play against a speedster.”
“You're gonna lose terribly. And super fast,” Tommy replies. “You, uh, wanna see me again? This isn't just a one night thing and I'm not actually hallucinating talking to you?”
“I meant what I said to you and your brother, Thomas. I don't wish to make the same mistakes I committed with Wanda and Pietro,” he says, looking wistfully at the city. Once again, Tommy is shocked to realize how little he actually knows about Magneto. Yet—makes him feel closer to him, somehow. Magneto doesn't know him, either. “If you keep having night escapades, well—perhaps I can free my schedule for you.”
Tommy would hug him if it wasn't so weird to think of. Maybe it isn't weird for Magneto, because he puts his hand back on Tommy's shoulder, and a second later Tommy thinks screw it! and leans in for a short, proper hug.
“Um, thanks, grandpa,” Tommy finally says. “I'll—I should get going, soon.”
He lets go of Magneto, but doesn't actually move or attempt to stand up.
“Soon,” Magneto answers back.
They both sit to watch the city below them, and somehow, it's not as suffocating as it was before.