Chapter Text
Peter speeded towards the mansion; he held the photobook tightly in his grip. His father had asked to see some baby pictures of him, he even asked if he could keep some. Peter had of course said yes. Nothing made him happier than to have his father interested in him. It had been over a week since Peter had told Erik about their relation, and life felt so much better. Peter finally had a proper father.
As Peter came closer to the mansion, he noticed Ororo sitting on the steps of the entrance. He stopped.
“Hey, Oro,” Peter said. “Have you seen my dad?” He asked her.
“I think he went out for a walk in the garden,” Ororo said. “What are you holding?” she asked and pointed at the photobook. “Oh, it’s a photobook of me and my sister. Dad asked to see it,” Peter smiled. He was so happy that he finally could say the word Dad without sorrow. She grinned, “I see. I’m happy you finally told him, Peter.”
“Me too, well gotta go. See you later, Oro,” Peter said and speeded away. It didn’t take long to find Erik. He was sitting on a bench next to the lake. The sun shone on the water making it shimmer.
“Sup Daddy-O,” Peter said as he stopped. Erik looked at him and smiled. “Hello Pietro,” he said. He had begun calling Peter for Pietro, which made Peter delighted. It had been a long time since someone called him that. Even his aunt doesn’t call him that anymore.
“I have the photos you asked for, Dad,” Peter said, and sat down beside him. Erik gladly accepted to book and opened the first page. It showed two newborn babies lying next to each other. One was wearing a pink hat while the other a blue one. Wanda Marya and Pietro Django Maximoff, it read under the picture.
“Mom made our middle names our aunt and uncle’s names,” Peter said. Erik nodded and replied: “I’m happy for that, I have met both, they’re good people.”
Besides the picture was a photo of a woman on a bed, holding the two babies. “This is the only picture I have of Mom together with us… Something went wrong soon after this was taken and she died,” Peter said and wiped away a tear. Erik put his arm around his son.
They continued looking at baby pictures. “This is from when we started walking,” Peter said and pointed at a picture of baby-him walking towards his uncle Django. “Aunt Marya said that after that, I never sat still ever again. Actually, this was the only thing I did first before Wendy, she did everything before me exept walking.”
Erik smiled at his words; but he held back tears. He was happy for the pictures, but knowing he wasn’t there for any of these movements made him heartbroken. He should have been there, he should have been there to hold up his son, instead of Django. He was thankful for the man, but at the same time jealous.
“This is from our first birthday,” Peter suddenly said. Erik had zoned out and hadn’t noticed his son changing the page. The picture was of both babies, one was smiling at the camera, while the other one was covered in cake.
“Guess who I am, Dad,” Peter said. Erik smiled and looked at the pictures, it was obvious that he was the baby with silver hair – the baby covered in cake.
“I’m going to guess the baby covered in cake,” Erik laughed.
“How did you know?!” Peter giggled.
“Father’s intuition,” Erik answered.
They kept looking through the pages and the babies turned into toddlers and then into preschoolers.
“This is from our first day at school,” Peter said and pointed at the photo. Erik stared at the picture of his children. His beautiful children. The silver-haired boy was smiling with a missing tooth. And the red-headed girl smiled with sparkle in her eyes. A sudden pain flourished in Erik’s chest, thinking about his dead child he never met. He had three dead daughters… It seemed like the world hated him but tolerated him enough to give him a living son. A son he will always be thankful for.
“Pietro, if I may ask. Do you mind telling me about Wendy?” Erik asked warily, scared of upsetting his son.
Peter’s eyes saddened, “No I don’t mind. What do you want to know?”
“How was she like?” Erik asked.
“Well, she was really kind, and patient. She always made sure I stayed out of trouble. But she was kinda sensitive, especially with her powers. The day she died, she had been really upset after she couldn’t control her telekinesis…” Peter muttered.
“I see,” Erik said and tightened his grip around Peter. “You don’t have to talk about it, you don’t want to. Sorry for I asked,” Erik spoke.
“Don’t apologize. It’s good that you want to know her, it makes me happy,” Peter smiled. Erik smiled back. Suddenly Erik noticed the scar over Peter’s right eyebrow, he had seen it before, but never really thought about it.
“Pietro, how did you get that scar?” Erik asked calmly, although there were worry in his eyes.
“Oh, that… That’s nothing, Dad,” Peter said and touched it. Peter quickly became uncomfortable at the mention of the scar. He tried not to think about the memory.
“Pietro,” Erik said in a low voice, “Please tell me what happened.”
Peter hesitated, he buried his face in his dad’s chest in embarrassment. “You see, after Uncle Django died, Aunt Marya became really depressed, after while she started dating really shady guys. This one time when I was 11, one of her boyfriends, he-uhm… He threw a bear bottle at me; it missed but hit the wall and some of the glass kinda cut me…” Peter mumbled. He was scared of his father’s reaction.
“My God, Peter. How could she let that happen,” Erik said in anger and hugged him.
“It wasn’t her fault. She broke up with him right after it happened,” Peter assured him. But Erik gave him a look of doubt. “It was a one-time thing, right? No other boyfriend tried to lay their hands on you?” Erik asked, he had a firm tone.
Peter bit his lip. “Well, there a few assholes that tried, but I always got away. Promise,” Peter said, hands in the air. “If you say so. But Marya shouldn’t had put you in that position,” Erik said in a tone which made Peter angry.
“Hey, don’t judge Marya. Sha has had a hard life,” Peter said, defending his aunt, “You don’t know. You weren’t there.” His words left his mouth without thinking. You weren’t there.
Erik’s face saddened, “I know I weren’t there, Pietro… I’m so sorry for that.”
“Don’t worry about it, Dad. It isn’t your fault,” Peter said.
“But it is. If I hadn’t been so vengeful; your mother would have never left,” Erik said, pain in his voice.
“You don’t know that…” Peter muttered. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he just hugged his father, and Erik held him tightly.
Suddenly Peter got an idea to cheer up his father, “Hey Dad, you wanna see my bar mitzvah photos?”