Chapter Text
Lehnsherr isn't doing well. Pietro watches him from corner of his eye as he's fixing their current base. It's an excuse for him to not have to sit still.
Lehnsherr already has no problem with sitting still and staring blankly into space - very unlike Pietro - but it's getting uncanny, the way he's sitting hours in silence and mostly unmoving. There's a wall of their past between them. Pietro doesn't know how to breach that wall. Doesn't know if he even wants to.
He just wants to break Lehnsherr out of his depression. It feels weird to see him like this. Passive. Helpless. For the longest time in his life, Lehnsherr was a force to fear, an unbeatable force. Even as they stood on opposing sides, Pietro thought Magneto was something you couldn't defeat, not fully.
Without his powers, there's nothing of the steely resolve. He's mostly subdued, occasionally, if Pietro pushes enough, there's anger. But it's not the same.
It's bringing Pietro's spirits down too. He's been trying to get out of the house whenever he can, but he doesn't like leaving Lehnsherr alone for too long. The few times he did, Erik resigned to himself even more and even stopped eating.
He doesn't meet Lehnsherr's eyes when he reaches for his jacket. "Gotta get food. I'll be back. Don't do anything stupid."
Lehnsherr doesn't even look up.
His father seemed bookish. At least that's what the Professor said. Maybe a book would cheer him up.
Chess too. But Pietro doesn't know how to play and learning it from Lehnsherr brings up feelings neither of them want to deal with. So no chess. Let that be something between Charles and Erik.
Book.
He scours the bookshop in superspeed, looking over the titles. There's nothing that catches his eye.
What would he even like? There isn't much mutant focused literature that isn't hostile and discriminatory.
Something German instead, maybe?
He seems like the type to love classics.
Pietro sees a bunch of them.
Kafka. Goethe. Brecht. Zweig. These are some his mother mentioned that she loved.
Pietro could go out of super speed and just ask the person at the shop but reconsiders since he plans to steal the book it's better to have no witnesses.
He looks around and sees "German classics". Bingo. Pietro will skim through the blurbs and he will just pick what sounds the most fun.
After having gone through 10 books, Pietro frowns. What the fuck is wrong with Germans? These are all so dark. He was trying to help Erik's depression, not give him another reason to want to kill himself. Pietro gravitated towards the brighter coloured books. He cant really speak German but these have to be children's books,right?. Pietro doesn't read much - his thing is music after all.
He spots a yellow book with a boy and a girl holding hands on the cover. "Pünktchen und Anton." This looks cute enough to cheer Erik up. He grabs both the English and German version - maybe Erik can read the English one to him. He likes Erik's voice - surprisingly soothing. No one would assume that the same voice that was more prone to making threats rather than speaking out words of comfort would be that soothing.
When he gets back, he tosses the books on the bed in front of him - startling Erik. He reaches for the books hesitantly.
Pietro watches him as he lets him take it. "Maybe you'll quit your moping now." He mumbles and shifts on his feet. "He said you liked books." There is no need to ask who "he" is.
Erik brushes his fingers over the embossing. He looks at Pietro. "Thank you.... it's... it's very kind of you."
Pietro waves that off, unused to praise. "It's just a book." He turns to the kitchen again. "Do we have anything to eat?" He doesn't wait for an answer and moves to the kitchen. He grabs some food they have and then moves back to the bedroom.
He nods to the book. "Do you know that one?"
"My father used to read me to it before-" The camp. Erik never told him but Pietro found all available documents on his family. His grandfather, aunt and grandmother died in the camp, leaving his father as a sole survivor.
"You didn't talk much about granddad." Granddad sounded weird on his tongue same as the word dad.
"He was a great man. Brave."
Pietro grips the necklace - containing a picture of his grandparents - Erik gave it to him on one of their better days.
"Do you miss him?" Pietro finally asks - the question burning on his tongue.
"Every day." Erik admits.
The silence engulfs them until Pietro speaks up again.
"Iknowit'snotfairtoyou." Pietro mutters in superspeed what's been squeezing his lungs. He can't drag the "I'm sorry" through his throat. "Andthatyoushouldhavebetter."
"Excuse me?" Erik cocked his head to the side, confusion written on his face.
Right, spacing. "I shouldn't.....be......like that....to you. Others would kill to have family around."
Erik averts his eyes. "I understand." He says hoarsely. "You lost a lot. And you were hurt a lot. And many of those things were because of what you are to me and my actions." He looks at the book again. "I do not blame you."
Pietro wishes that he did. To have this almost forgiveness was painful. Unfair in its kindness. He feels so sick of himself. "I...." Am sorry? Won't do it again? Don't want to be this way? ".... I don't blame you either." He says eventually. "I know I'm..."
He hates this lack of words. He was usually talkative, why did this feel like pulling teeth? He could never express himself around Lehnsherr.
"I know I'm not what you wanted." He grits out eventually.
"What do you mean?" Erik sounds perplexed.
He can hear Erik getting up from the bed and raises a hand to signal him to stop. He doesn't want to fuck this up by proximity. "You didn't even know I existed. And when you did, I was a loser you broke out of prison." Those words come a little easier. "And then I refused to join you and fought against you with the X-Men and all that mess."
"All I wanted was a healthy child. And you are healthy and my child. That's all I ever wanted. And I don't care if you act in anger or do whatever. You are my son and I will always forgive you"
Pietro recoils at those words and starts to get up from the chair. He doesn't deserve forgiveness, if only for what he does to Erik. "Why do you have to be so fucking...." He sighs wearily and drops back down. "I wish you were around when I was a kid. Shit would be a lot easier now."
Erik nods. "I would have come for you if I knew that you existed. I promise that."
Pietro chuckles dryly. "No point in moping about it now." He shakes as if he's trying to get rid of the heavy atmosphere of the room. "It's good that you like the book." He zips into the kitchen to wash the plate. Then he walks back into the bedroom and sits on the floor by Erik's bed.
Erik picks up the book. "Would you like me to read to you?
"Could you? Before we go to sleep? I don't want to stay up all night. So I would like to try."
Erik smiles.
"Well I can help with that. Or I could read one of Charles's papers, that is way more effective.
"Xavier?" Pietro frowns. "He should stay out of my head."
Erik reaches to caress his hair to settle him, but Pietro moves away. He pokes Erik's leg instead. "Read. I'm tired."