Work Text:
As the Blackbird landed, Peter Maximoff felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.
He was tired, covered in sweat and dirt, and all he wanted to do was lie down face first in the unbelievably soft bed in his room. And now he was home, with no fear of rogue militia groups, military helicopters, or prejudiced humans trying to murder him for the crime of being different, attacking him or the other X-Men.
“Are you feeling alright, Peter?” Jubilee asked, watching the silver-haired speedster struggle to keep his eyes open.
“Wha-oh, yeah, I’m just tired.” He said, sluggishly taking off his seatbelt and standing up, bracing himself on the chair for a moment.
“I bet Erik will be happy to see you.”
“I’m sure he will be.” Raven said, opening the exit hatch. “He kept arguing with me and Hank because we wouldn’t let him go on this mission.”
“I’m sure he did.” Peter smiled as the hatch opened up and the other X-Men began exiting, “My old man’s like that sometimes.”
“Like what?” The crisp voice of Erik Lehnsherr rang through the room. Peter wasn’t entirely convinced he didn’t have a secondary mutation that was entirely based around eavesdropping on conversations relevant to himself.
“Dramatic.” Raven responded, ushering Peter out of the jet.
“I’m not dramatic.” Erik huffed, crossing the room to get to his son faster, wrapping him up in a tight embrace when he did.
“You’re a little dramatic.” Peter grinned, hugging him back.
“Are you alright?”
“Yep, tired though.”
Erik pulled away and studied Peter’s face for any sign of injury, brow furrowing when he saw the dirt and dried blood caked across the left part of his temple.
“I fell.” Peter shrugged, “No concussion though, Hank checked me out.”
“Is this true, Beast?” Erik called out, eyes not leaving Peter.
“He’s been cleared.” Hank confirmed.
Erik nodded.
“Cool, we’ve established I’m fine, can I go to sleep now?”
“Wash your face off first.”
“Seriously?” Peter asked flatly.
“Yes.” Erik said exasperatedly, giving Peter a look that could rival the looks of mild discontent the Professor was oh so famous for.
“Fine.”
Erik smiled and bade Peter farewell, staying behind to ask Raven and Hank about what they had found at the FOH headquarters.
Peter lumbered through the halls, seriously debating whether or not to even wash his face or change out of his jumpsuit. But, he knew he’d feel better in the morning if he did it now, and so, when he opened the door to his room, he grabbed a change of clothes and headed straight to the bathroom.
The cool water woke him up slightly, Peter watching the dark brown swirl down the drain as he worked tirelessly to get the grime off of his face and out of his hair. Once the water came away clear, and Peter had gotten himself changed into more comfortable clothing, he really didn’t feel like doing much else than passing out on the feather mattress.
He didn’t bother to hang up his suit, instead opting to leave it on his bathroom floor, and flopped face down on the bed, legs dangling off the side. His door slowly opened only moments later, and Peter cracked open an eye, only to see his father staring back at him.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.” He said.
“I wasn’t asleep.”
Erik nodded.
“I came in to grab your suit.” He explained.
“Thanks Dad.”
Erik’s face lit up the way it always did whenever the three-letter-word was used. He grabbed a blanket that Peter had flung over a chair in his room, and placed it over his son.
"It's supposed to get cold."
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Erik said, absentmindedly tucking in the corners around Peter’s shoulders.
“Night, Dad.”
“Good night Peter.” He said, placing a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.”