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Chapter Text

It had been two days since Erik knocked on the door of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. He’d spent those two days hiding away in the room Charles gave him. His old friend had naturally not been happy to see him, but had still welcomed him with open arms when he sought refuge. Erik apparently did pick the right time to stop at the school, considering most students were outside. He didn’t think the young mutants would react kindly to seeing him in their home. 

That was part of the reason he spent the past two days locked in his room. Erik was perfectly content to stay there, of course. He would simply wait until it was safe for him to leave again, until the CIA officially lost his trail. There was no need to leave his room. It was the same room he had lived in before Cuba and it seemed no one else had inhabited it since then. There was a perfectly comfortable bed, enough books to spend the time with, and a chessboard on a table pushed against the wall. Charles had visited him in the evenings and they’d play a game. For old time’s sake, Charles told him.

When Charles let Erik into the school, he spent the first hour explaining and setting up rules. Firstly, it was important Erik did not try to start a ‘rebellion’ or brainwash his young students. Erik thought the sentiment was foolish, but Beast, who insisted on being present for the meeting, looked very angry and determined. Did he truly think Erik was going to turn their students into violent rebels or something? What they really meant was that Erik was to avoid the students. Secondly, Erik was not to eat with the students. His food would be brought to his room, so he would not have to spend time at the table with the children. Lastly, if there was any sign of trouble, Erik was to make sure the children would not be harmed. Erik agreed, of course, he would protect the young mutants at any cost, he swore to it. 

“Just stay away from his kids, alright?” Beast said to him after Charles had wheeled out of the room. His kids. Charles’ kids. Right. “And call me Hank. I don’t go by Beast here.”

That was another thing. His friend was actually in a wheelchair. Erik had known Charles couldn’t walk and that it was a serum that gave him his legs the last time he saw him, but he had never actually seen Charles in a wheelchair. It was an odd sight at first, he couldn’t quite look at his friend the same, but Charles caught onto his staring and quickly put an end to it.

“Don’t give me your pity, Erik. I don’t want it nor do I need it,” Charles said. When Erik didn’t respond, he continued, “I promise I will run over your toes if you don’t stop that.”

Erik didn’t say anything to that either, but Charles seemed to understand that he got the message across. 

After that, Erik had gone back to his room and grabbed a book he must’ve already read eleven years ago. There was nothing else to do, since all the students would be on the bottom floor of the school and he was to stay away from their young impressionable minds.

Now it was two days later and he had gone through three books he already read. Erik was ashamed to admit he was bored. You’d think a man who spent plenty of years in a white cell had a better way to entertain himself, but the house didn’t quite feel the same. He got tired of reading, and winning in chess was too easy when you played against yourself. Charles was teaching a class at the moment, he knew because Hank had shoved a sheet of paper with Charles’ schedule on it. Erik didn’t really understand Hank most of the time now.

There was nothing else for Erik to do in his room. If he could only just go downstairs. There was a large library downstairs, surely he could get books that wouldn’t continue to bore him for another day or two. There was a kitchen downstairs, Erik could go and cook himself something to pass the time. 

Instead, Erik sat at the table in his room and stared out the window. There was a group of children on the track outside. They were older, probably around sixteen. Havok - or Alex, he supposes - was outside too, talking to another man, who Erik assumed was a teacher. He had light brown hair and wore odd-looking red glasses. Every so often he would stop the conversation to give the students instructions. It looked like their class had just started.

Then Erik’s mind finally got caught up. If they were in a lesson, that must mean the other kids wouldn’t be roaming the hallways either. He got up from the chair and scrambled to find the paper with Charles’ schedule. It had been shoved beneath the chessboard.

Right there, on the back of the paper, it had a list with ‘class hours’. From two o’clock to a quarter past three. If Erik was correct, everyone would be in class now. If all the students were in class, there would be no young minds he could corrupt if he went downstairs. Erik considered his chances. He had a difficult time figuring out how Charles felt when it came to his students. He couldn’t quite gauge if he would be angry with him if he did happen to come across any students. Erik did owe him for giving him a place to stay.

But Erik was not going to stick around this room waiting. 

–

Erik had made his way to the kitchen without any trouble. It seemed he was correct and all the children were in class. He also did not have any issues with Charles popping into his mind. Erik didn’t know if Charles had actually decided to stay out, like he said he would at the Pentagon, or if he was simply too focused on his students to pay attention to Erik wandering around.

The layout of the house was almost the same as it was before everything. There were dorm-like rooms on the bottom floor where Erik assumed the students stayed and the rooms on the other half of the floor had been turned into classrooms. There had been lifts installed near the staircases, it was almost pleasant for Erik to feel the metal in the house. 

The interior hadn’t changed a lot, though Erik did frown at some missing vases or statues in the hallway. He could only assume the fate those suffered in a house full of mutant children. Eventually, he came across the kitchen. It seemed the kitchen had gotten a makeover, it now in fact looked like a kitchen you could use to feed dozens of kids.

Besides all the extra cooking supplies, the pantry was stocked. Every cabinet was filled. It was a blessing, really. Erik wondered who went on grocery runs around here. Having found a cure to his imminent boredom, Erik got to work.

He was so absorbed in finally being able to cook in a fully functioning kitchen again, he didn’t notice the person who wandered in. 

“I thought you were like a terrorist now, dude.”

Erik startled and dropped the spatula into the bowl and turned around. Right there, sitting at the kitchen island, was a child. A teenager, really. He hadn’t heard him come in. How did he not hear a literal child sneak up on him? It’s ridiculous. Erik frowned at the student. The boy had a mess of silver hair and a boyish face. He wore a shirt with a band Erik vaguely recognized. The kid sat there with his hands raised as he stared back at Erik.

It was only then that Erik realized there were three large kitchen knives raised next to his head, pointed at the boy. Erik’s frown dropped and he put the knives back in the block on the counter. Right.

“Excuse me?” Erik said.

The hands were lazily dropped to the kitchen island again. The boy rolled his eyes and took a sip of the cup he had in his hand. When did he get that?

“You’re Magneto. You tried to kill the president. So, aren’t you kind of a terrorist or something?” he replied.

Wonderful. The kid recognized him. Charles was not going to be happy. Erik had no idea how he was supposed to fix this. It’d only be a matter of time before Charles would pick up on some kind of distress radiating from his student and realize Erik was there. He really couldn’t afford to get into a fight with Charles, not now he needed a place to stay so desperately.

“I’m not here to harm anyone, if that’s what you’re asking,” Erik told the boy. He could figure this out. 

“I guess. Does the prof know you’re here?”

“Charles knows I’m here, yes.”

The longer Erik looked at the boy, the more he felt he was missing something. He looked incredibly familiar, but Erik couldn’t quite place the feeling. 

“Okay. Cool. So, what are you making?” The kid seemed to study the ingredients on the counter with a frown. He looked equally confused while he stared at the various bowls. Erik swore he knew this boy from somewhere.

“Who are you? I thought everyone was supposed to be in class,” he asked.

“You’re a terrorist, man, how do I know if I can trust you?” the boy downed the rest of his cup and started fiddling with the wrapper of some snack he got from the table.

Erik was kind of at a loss here. Maybe he should just call out to Charles to solve this. No, he really shouldn’t He still couldn’t figure out where he’d seen this kid and he had no idea how to talk to him. Maybe he could just bribe the boy. 

“What are you making?”

“What’s your name?”

“Fine, I’m Peter. What are you making?”

His name was Peter. That didn’t actually help all that much, Erik couldn’t place his face and he didn’t recognize the name either. 

“It’s a Jewish dish,” Erik told him, “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

“Why do you ask? Are you a cop?” Peter was spinning in his seat. 

Erik rolled his eyes. So he was probably a student. Were all children as difficult as this? He didn’t understand why Charles would want a whole school of them. 

“Doesn’t Charles know you’re skipping class?” Erik was fairly certain Peter was still supposed to be in class. Considering Charles hasn’t come to the kitchen to yell at Erik yet, he’s also fairly certain Peter isn’t all that distressed. 

“The professor? Nah, he says my mind is a nightmare and he wouldn’t go into it unless he’s craving a headache,” Peter said before taking a bite out of some kind of factory-produced-looking cake. He didn’t appear to be leaving anytime soon, so Erik turned around and got back to stirring. He still had to finish the dish before this class period ended.

“Hey, can I have some of that?” Peter piped up from his seat. Maybe this was Erik’s chance to bribe him, anyway.

“How old are you?”

“Old enough to drive.”

“So, not old enough to drink. There’s wine in this. I’m not giving students alcohol,” Erik said. 

“Aw, come on, man. The prof doesn’t get in my head, he’ll never have to know.”

“I’m more responsible than that, Peter.”

Erik refused to laugh at the pout on the boy’s face. He took another bite of his cake while he sulked. Erik did not understand kids. He turned again and put the bowl back on the counter to let it sit for another while. The clock in the kitchen read half-past two. He’d have plenty of time to finish the latkes, too. 

While Erik flipped the latkes in the pan, he wondered why the kid was sticking around. Peter knew he was Magneto, knew he tried to kill the president, why wouldn’t he run back to whatever class he came from? Why did he believe Erik when he told him Charles knew he was there? Any smart person would’ve left the minute they recognized him. Why was Peter still there? Besides that, he was even talking to Erik. He hadn’t had something like this in quite a long time.

Erik was alone, usually. He used to have Raven, Emma, or even Angel around, but none of them could be with him now. When he was going from safe house to safe house, he was never alone. He used to cook for all of them too, and even in the kitchen, there was always someone there. After Washington, he didn’t have that. Before that, too, when he spent four years alone in a cell. 

However, the loneliness in the Pentagon was one he could bear. It was isolation, it felt different. After Washington, he didn’t have anyone. There was no one to sit at the table while he cooked, there was no one he’d play chess with in the evening. He was truly alone then, Erik believed. He spent all his time looking for the next threat and then he would simply move to another empty safe house. His life after Washington was different than the one after Cuba. But now he was here, cooking in a school full of children while one sat right there, talking to him. Erik didn’t want to get used to this.

Then Erik noticed that Peter hadn’t spoken in a while. It seemed an odd thing to notice, but he did. Erik turned around to see if Peter had somehow left without him noticing too.

“This is really good, dude!” 

Peter still sat at the kitchen counter. He held the bowl of charoset in one hand while he took another bite off a spoon held in the other. Erik’s eyebrows were raised at the sight of the boy. How did he get that? The bowl was on the counter next to Erik just a moment ago. An actual child took it without him noticing. 

“Put that back. You’re not supposed to eat that.” Erik sighed and reached out a hand to take the bowl from Peter. He was once again bested by a child as Peter simply held the bowl out of his reach. He had good reflexes, apparently. Erik vowed to himself to just stay in his room next time.

Erik took two steps to reach Peter’s side of the kitchen counter and made another attempt at taking the bowl, while Peter was still chewing. He failed, again, however. Erik’s hand missed the bowl, as it was suddenly on the other side of the kitchen. All he felt was a gust of wind and all of a sudden, Peter was not on the chair anymore. He stood next to the small kitchen table on the other side of the room, still eating from the bowl.

Only then did Erik realize. It dawned on him and Erik felt the urge to hit himself for his stupidity. Of course, he recognized Peter. Erik only remembered the day he got broken out of the cell in the Pentagon in blurs, but he should’ve remembered that silver hair. 

Erik remembers seeing Peter’s smile as he looked up through the glass from the pit. Then the boy knelt down and put his hands on the glass. Erik thought it was just some agent trying to poke some fun at him, until the glass started vibrating. Before he could even really process what was happening, the glass shattered and fell down on him. 

He very distinctly remembers the door opening, a dozen guns pointed toward him, a sudden urge to vomit, and then opening his eyes and being on the other side of the hallway. He wasn’t paying much attention to Peter when they were almost getting killed in the kitchen, either. Erik all but forgot about the boy who broke him out after that, seeing as he had bigger problems. That boy was a student now. And that boy was now eating his charoset, simply speeding away when Erik tried to take it from him.

Surely this was using his mutation with malicious intent, Erik should tell on him or something.

“You broke me out of that cell.”

“Wasn’t that fun? I saved you guys back there, it was awesome,” Peter said with a grin plastered on his face.

“I suppose you did. Thank you. Now give that back, Peter, there is actually wine in that.” 

This time Erik did manage to take the bowl from Peter.

Chapter Text

“Why did no one tell me he was back?”

There were voices in the hallway. Voices Erik recognized. It took a moment for him to realize the deep, loud voice was Alex. Erik hadn’t spoken to Alex since Cuba. He had seen him around the school before, Charles told him he was a teacher now. He taught physics apparently, which Erik frowned at at first. The angry boy they found in solitary confinement ten years before didn’t seem like the type to be a teacher. And teaching a science, above all. 

Though, he supposes Alex must’ve grown up too. He was probably nearing 30, now. He wasn’t just some angry teenager anymore. He’d been growing out his hair, Erik had noticed. Alex looked pretty grown-up, though he hadn’t talked to him yet. He already guessed Alex wouldn’t be very welcoming. 

“How long has he been here in our school?”

The voices were louder now, quite obviously nearing his door. Erik slipped the piece of paper back into his book with a sigh and sat up straight in the chair. He knew this wouldn’t be much fun.

The door to Erik’s room opened with a creak and hit the bookshelf behind it with a loud thump. Definitely not fun. 

“Morning, Erik,” Charles said with a half-smile as he wheeled through the door opening, let in by Alex. He was followed by Hank, who didn’t look happy to be in his room. Erik had run into Hank a couple of times since coming to the school, but they never had a proper conversation. He was pretty certain Hank wasn’t going to forgive him anytime soon, for anything really. Erik didn’t really bond with Hank before Cuba and he was quite certain there was no need for them to do so now.

Then Alex came in. He did so in a very teenager-Alex-fashion. Which meant, with a lot of barely contained anger and awfully loud footsteps. Alex all but stomped into Erik’s room and shot him a not-so-contained glare. Erik had only observed Alex from far away for the past four days, but now he could really see that he had actually grown up. His jaw was sharper, his eyes were heavier, and he had grown out of his teenage years. Erik felt he didn’t actually know Alex, especially not the man he had grown into.

Then as Alex began to curse, another man walked in. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it. It was the man Erik had seen earlier, with his brown hair and red glasses. The man looked somewhat uncomfortable, but he obviously tried not to show it. He looked a bit young for a teacher, but Erik could notice he definitely was one. The man nodded his head at Erik when he noticed him looking.

“Morning,” Erik replied. He shot Charles a glance, but he seemed somewhat apologetic. 

“What are you doing here?” Alex asked. He stood firmly, with his arms crossed.

“I believe it’s none of your business.”

“It is when you’re a danger to our students.”

“Alex, I can assure you Erik means no harm towards any of our students,” Charles cut in. “As I said, Erik is simply going to be staying here for a while.”

“He’s not welcome here, Charles.” 

It wasn’t odd to see Alex so angry, but Erik knew this wasn’t like when he was young. Alex used to let out his anger by simply unleashing his powers or by inviting someone to a boxing match. This Alex wasn’t just angry.

“I apologize, but I think I’ll be the boss of that,” Charles told Alex, before turning back to Erik, “Alex heard you were here and wanted to see you and I thought it would be a good idea to introduce you to Scott, while we’re here.”

The man leaning against the door stepped forward. He ran a nervous hand through his hair, then held out the other one for Erik to shake.

“I’m Scott Summers, I take care of the PE classes,” he said. 

Summers. Erik shot Alex a quick glance with a raised eyebrow. Alex seemed to catch onto it and sighed.

“Scott’s my brother.”

Alex had never mentioned a brother before. When Erik thought about it, he could certainly imagine Alex as an older brother. Erik shook Scott’s hand.

“How long are you staying?” Alex spoke up. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know. All of my safehouses have been compromised and I can’t make another move with the CIA so close to my trail, I have to wait it out for a while. They won’t find me here.”

“Have you talked to any of the students?” Alex was interrogating him with a doubtful look on his face.

Erik thought about the other day in the kitchen. He ended up finishing the latkes and giving half to Peter. He’d been greatly complimented on his cooking, which pleased Erik more than he’d admit. He did refrain from allowing Peter anymore of the charoset, because he was in fact responsible. Definitely not corrupting any young minds. 

Erik looked over to Charles. There wasn’t any knowing look on his face nor did Charles try to reach into his mind. Peter hadn’t told him.

“No, I haven’t,” Erik said to them.

“Perhaps it’d be good if Erik joined a class.” All eyes were on Charles now. Alex looked shocked, betrayed even. Hank merely looked doubtful and Erik couldn’t quite get a read on Scott. He had no idea why Charles would suddenly suggest this. 

“Could I talk to Erik in private, please?” Charles asked.

Although hesitantly, the others did leave the room. The pissed-off look Alex gave him before he shut the door would have been comedic if Erik didn’t know any better. Erik looked at Charles. His old friend seemed hopeful, his eyes were shining in a way they hadn’t been when he saw him at the Pentagon or in Washington. 

“You and I both know you won’t be leaving any time soon,” he stated, “It’ll be weeks at least. I doubt it’s fair of me to keep you in here.”

“You’d trust me around your students?” Erik tried to study his face, but he’d gotten worse at understanding Charles these days. Charles just smiled at him.

“I believe I might. Frankly, I think it would be best for them to find out Magneto’s in their school from me, instead of some vague rumour. It’s bound to go wrong in some way if you live here in secrecy.”

Erik felt the honest urge to smile back at Charles. 

“If you were to agree, I could make an announcement tonight at dinner,” Charles continued. 

“That I’m here?”

Charles simply nodded. Except Erik knew Charles was not a simple man. 

“I talked to Scott this morning before Alex dropped in. Scott agreed to let you join his class tomorrow afternoon. It’ll begin at two, it’s a class with some of the older students. You won’t have to do a lot, just try to,” he hesitated, before leaning back in his chair and speaking up again, “leave a good impression.”

“What, am I not to ‘corrupt their young minds’, as Hank so kindly put it?” Erik filled in. Did they all think he was here to collect child mutants for some revolution? 

Charles chuckled. “You have to remember, Erik, these children only saw you on television when you were threatening the president.”

Erik considered it. The students did only know him from the spectacle in Washington. His mind wandered back to Peter, who had sat and talked to him anyway. Peter did know him from before that, but allegedly successfully murdering a president wasn’t a good impression either, Erik imagined. 

“This afternoon, at two. If you get there a bit early, Scott could explain everything you need to know. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to be present for the class, but I trust Scott to handle it.” 

-

Erik felt out of his element. Similar to when Peter was with him in the kitchen, he felt he didn’t quite know how to interact with a bunch of children. Erik had gotten to the field outside fifteen minutes before class would start. He was surprised to find Scott already there, waiting for him. A small pang of relief went through him when he realized Alex wasn’t there this time.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Summers,” Erik offered.

“Oh, just Scott is fine,” Scott said with a polite smile. “Charles said he told the students you’d probably come to one of the classes today.”

Erik could not see how this was a great idea, at all. He simply could not figure out why Charles thought he should spend an hour with a bunch of children. Charles was a fool, he decided. Erik had one awkward PE class with them to convince them he wasn’t in fact a terrorist. Wonderful, really, he could do this. He faced bigger issues, he could manage a group of kids. 

Erik was more than ashamed to admit he was nervous. That’s why he simply would never admit it. He should not be this anxious because he had to talk to some children. He should be better than this. He threatened the president on live television before, he could convince some students he was fine.

“My kids are nice enough, I promise,” Scott continued.

“Am I supposed to watch for the rest of the class?” Erik asked, instead.

“You could leave at any time, of course. Though my class is pretty fun, if I do say so myself. PE is great to watch them train and use their powers.”

“They get to use their mutations?”

“Most of the time, yes. It helps them get control of it. And it’s fun, usually,” Scott replied. “C’mon, I’ll show you what we’re doing today.”

-

With every second passing by, Erik wished he stayed in his room. He knew he shouldn’t have agreed to be present during a class. It was foolish of Charles to think Erik should involve himself with any of his students. 

Students were starting to show up to the field. They all seemed to be wearing some school gym outfit. It consisted of shorts, a t-shirt with the school’s name and logo on it, and a zip-up, too. Some students started talking to Scott while some whispered among themselves. Most of them were staring at Erik, who was standing to the side. He could hear some students talking about him. All of their eyes on him gave him an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, like he was awaiting some kind of judgment. There was nothing Erik wanted more at that moment than to leave and pretend he was never there, but he knew that wasn’t who he was. He would just wait more painful seconds until class started and the students were hopefully distracted enough to not think about him being there.

That was until the sudden appearance of another student. Erik’s eyes widened as he stared at the boy from the Pentagon. Peter. He’d arrived at the field in a blur and high-fived a red-haired girl who had arrived earlier. Peter was in this class. When he recognized at least one person besides Scott, relief sparked. He’d talked to Peter before and Peter didn’t seem to despise him. 

“Hey Mr. S!” Peter yelled out.

“Hey, Peter,” Scott replied.

That’s when Peter noticed Erik standing there. His smile turned into a grin. It reminded Erik of the Pentagon. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually show up!” Peter abandoned his red-haired friend to run towards Erik. Of course, Erik couldn’t see him run, because one moment he was 20 feet away and the next he was right in front of him. 

“Are you suggesting I’m a coward?” 

“Am I, Magneto?” Peter was grinning right at him, seemingly trying not to burst out laughing. “If you’re not a coward, I dare you to race me.” Erik would’ve rolled his eyes at him.

Erik turned to look at Scott, who was frowning at them. Then he realized it must be weird for Scott to see a student come up to Erik and talk to him like this. Maybe he would just assume Peter was the kind of kid to do that.

“Erik, why don’t you help out Peter today? He’s been trying to improve his score on the track,” Scott said. 

Erik was about to reject Scott’s offer and insist on just watching their class instead, until he realized that probably meant the students would keep staring at him like he might murder their dog. Peter wasn’t all that bad, Erik would admit. He’d rather spend an hour being confused by basically everything Peter does, than spend that hour observing a bunch of kids who kept turning to look at him the way they did.

Erik nodded while Scott shot him a smile and turned to Peter.

“Behave,” he said simply. Peter just saluted him in response.

“This’ll be fun, dude!” Peter exclaimed.

Peter looked determined if Erik had to describe it. The boy was still grinning and seemed way too excited to spend an hour with Erik.

“Want to race me now, Mr. Lehnsherr?” 

“‘Erik’ will do, Peter.” Erik didn’t bother providing him with an answer as he followed Peter’s lead to the track.

“Alright, Erik . That feels weird, man, you’re like fifty,” Peter said.

“If it really bothers you, Mr. Lehnsherr is fine.”

“Nah.”

Peter shucked off the zip-up he was wearing and started cracking his knuckles. Some part of Erik was convinced he was just doing this for show and dramatics.

“So, what are we trying to improve?” Erik asked.

“Last time I did this, I got 21 laps,” Peter told him.

Erik’s eyebrows shot up. He knew the kid was fast, of course, but he hadn’t really paid that much attention to it when he first met him.

“What? 21 laps in a minute?” 

“21 laps a second, actually.”

It took Erik a moment to realize Peter wasn’t joking. He was sure he was being sarcastic: no one could run 21 laps in one second. That means Peter was running over 8000 meters per second. Besides that, it certainly wasn’t possible for the boy to have that kind of stamina or endurance. Erik was, for a moment, incredibly certain Peter was joking.

Then when he gave it some thought, he supposes it might have been possible. He remembered Peter was faster than the bullets, but still. Peter might be faster than he thought.

“How can you run 21 laps that quickly without a break?” Erik raised an eyebrow at him.

“My mutation increases my stamina, too,” Peter responded. 

Peter’s mutation was truly fascinating.

“How about that race, old man?”

Chapter Text

Erik drummed his fingers on the table. He was stuck in his room again while Charles had class. There was some confusion for Erik as to why he was so reliant on Charles’ company. Especially now, when there was a gap between them they could not bridge. It wasn’t like before Cuba, when they would seek each other out to spend time together. Frankly, Erik wasn’t sure if he could call Charles his friend. Everything was complicated since he had come back. 

He did know, however, that boredom was incredibly tedious. He’d spent the morning in his room again. Erik was still hesitant to join breakfast with the rest of the school. Charles insisted it would be fine for him to do so, but Erik thought he would be out of place. He wasn’t cut out to be a teacher or really any kind of school figure. 

Which was why Erik hadn’t joined another class since Wednesday. He spent the next day holed up in his room, simply opting to read more books that were starting to bore him. Charles had once again dropped by after dinner to play chess with him. Erik could tell there was some disappointment in Charles. Maybe he really did expect Erik to play a part in his school. Charles didn’t question him about it, however. Charles wasn’t the person to ask when he wanted to know something.

So Erik hadn’t gone downstairs much since PE class. The PE class, of which he spent the entirety with Peter. It was odd. Peter seemed genuinely interested in spending time with him, ever since they spoke in the kitchen. He wasn’t quite sure what about him made him so interesting for Peter.

Though he would also have to admit, he enjoyed talking to Peter. Erik had trouble understanding him sometimes, but Peter would make plenty of jokes and talk enough to keep him interested. Peter was passionate, in a fascinating way.

“Scott told me you’re spending time with Peter,” Charles said to him the day before, “So you remember him? He’s quite remarkable, isn’t he?”

“I do. And he is,” Erik told him. He had left it at that. He didn’t know what else to say about Peter, didn't know how else to describe the feeling in his chest when Peter was the first to run towards him instead of away.

Erik stood up and shoved his chair back. He had enough sitting around to last him a lifetime, he decided. 

-

Since last time Erik went to the kitchen, he still hadn’t been to the library. There was bound to be enough to keep him entertained there. It would probably be empty at this time, too.

There was no one in the hallways once again. 

Erik had always had a fondness for the library in the mansion. When they first went here, after the previous base was attacked, Charles had given him a tour of the house. He’d include all these stories from his childhood, too. A strange feeling resurfaced when he thought of the memory. Back then, he’d wondered what his life would have been like if he had grown up in this house instead. Charles had told him of the time he’d spent a day straight in the library and the only one who had come looking for him was a maid. Erik hadn’t quite understood was Charles was trying to tell him, but he was interested nonetheless.

After the tour, he had gone back to the library almost immediately. He drowned himself in the endless books there. Erik had trouble before, he could hardly have a large collection of books with how much he had to move around. Now he had access to all of this, however, he could hardly leave. There was also a chessboard at the back of the library, next to a large window. It’s where Charles and him used to play quite often.

Erik slowly walked through the bookshelves. Not a lot had changed about them. That couldn’t be said for the rest of the library. The right side of it had been turned into a study area. Mostly neat tables with fancy chairs and some more comfortable looking couches not far away from them. He figured the children appreciated a space like this.

On the left side of the library, behind all the bookshelves, was another table with a couple of chairs tucked back. It’d had been there before the school, too. When Charles showed him the library, he told Erik that was his favourite spot. Then it became Erik’s favourite spot.

He picked up a book from the shelf near it and sat down in his old spot. His peace and quiet didn’t last very long, however.

Erik could’ve chosen to stay quiet when he say a child flashing through the bookshelves. He could’ve easily not have said a word and waited until he left. Erik didn’t.

“What on earth are you doing, Peter?” he asked.

“Oh, hey Erik! Don’t blow my cover, dude.”

Erik raised an eyebrow at the boy, who was hiding behind the bookshelf near Erik’s table. His face was a little red, though he didn’t seem out of breath. He hadn’t forgotten about Peter’s immense speed and superhuman stamina, but it was still odd to see sometimes. Peter smiled at him like there was nothing strange going on.

“What are you talking about?” Erik prompted.

“I’m hiding. You have to help me, Erik,” Peter grinned at him. Erik stared at his boyish grin for a moment. Peter seemed to radiate pure joy most of the time, he was always smiling or laughing or grinning. Erik tried not to think too hard about Peter, there was no use trying to figure him out.

“Why would I help you?”

“Ouch, that’s cruel. I thought we had some kind of unspeakable bond. You know, you make awesome food and I keep you company.” Peter looked at one of the other chairs at the table, hesitating. Erik wouldn’t actually mind if he sat down, but he wasn’t going to tell Peter that.

“Why are you hiding?” Erik asked, instead.

“You really are sure of questions. I’m gonna start thinking you’re actually a cop,” Peter said, before giving in, “I’m hiding from Jean. She’s pure evil.”

“Alright. You’re hiding in the library?” 

Peter looked at the chair again and this time Erik gave him a simple nod.

“Yep. She won’t think I dare go here, this is like my own personal hell.” 

“The library is your hell?” Erik finally closed his book and leaned back.

“Books and I don’t get along. Can’t concentrate on them, mind’s too fast or whatever,” Peter told him offhandedly.

Erik thought it over for a moment and he supposes it made sense. If Peter moves that fast most of the time, his mind would also move faster than others’. Erik couldn’t imagine what that was like. Was everyone else just incredibly slow to him?

“Hey, now we’re on the topic. When are you making latkes again? Yours are even better than my mom’s,” Peter interrupted his train of thought, sounding excited once again.

Erik frowned at him.

“You’re Jewish?” he asked Peter.

“Yeah. My mom’s Jewish, but we’re not very traditional. She kinda ‘toned it down’ or something after moving to the States. She makes great latkes, though.” Peter grinned at him. Erik smiled back.

“Oh, were you not born here?” Erik continued, leaning forward. 

“Nope, Germany. My legal name’s Pietro,” Peter told him. Then his eyes widened and he looked down at his hands on the table, some shift in his entire posture. “Sorry, don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Not a lot of people know, actually.”

Erik didn’t back down from it. He shoved his chair forward, making Peter look up at him, Then Erik smiled.

“It’s quite alright. I asked, didn’t I?” Erik said. “Pietro fits you.” 

The name was like a bitter memory for him. He remembered laying in bed with Marya, just talking. They would do nothing else for hours. Then she asked him about his family. She asked him if he would ever want to be a father. 

Erik was younger and foolish. He said he would never want to raise a child in the very world he fought every day. Marya didn’t shy away from the topic afterwards, however. She never did. If she was interested in something, she would talk about it anyway. She told him she did want to be a mother someday. She told him she wanted a daughter and a son, at least. Erik hadn’t responded. 

Marya didn’t care for a response. Erik doesn’t remember much from what she said after that, except for when she mentioned names. Marya said whe wanted to name her son after her father. Her father, Pietro, who had died when she was little. 

Erik was convinced he’d never have children, but if he did, he promised himself he’d name one after his mother.

And now Peter was still in front of him. Peter, who was Jewish and Peter, whose name was Pietro.

“Really? No one calls me Pietro though, not even ma,” Peter said.

Erik hesitated, for a moment. He needed to be careful. Peter was just some kid who went to Charles’ school, he couldn’t afford to overstep anything. But Erik hated the way Peter said Pietro, like it was a curse rather than his name.

“Do you want me to call you Pietro?” Erik offered before he could stop himself.

Peter blinked at him. Then that grin was plastered on his face again. Pure joy, Erik reminded himself. Peter opened his mouth to speak, when a shout sounded through the deserted library.

“Fuck, that’s Jean! Gotta run, was nice to see you, Erik!”

Erik didn’t have so much as a chance to bid Peter farewell before he ran off in a flash. He shook his head and picked up the book again. 

Huh. Pietro.