Leaving Bayville High after another fun-filled day of useless learning, Evan bounded down the front steps and found himself longing for the old days when school was just a boring task to be endured and not a six-and-a-half-hour drama that consisted of locker vandalism, miscellaneous objects thrown at his head in class, and stage whispers of fucking mutie. That endearing term was hurled at him as he passed a couple of gangly youths who, before the “outing” of mutant existence, Evan had considered his buddies. The blond walked by, not even bothering to look their way because he knew that loud whispers and snickers would be as much abuse as those cowards would be willing to inflict on him – to his face at least. Everyone knew what his power was, so typically, he was left alone, as was Scott, now that what lay behind those shades was common knowledge. Rogue and Kitty were pretty much avoided, but Jean enjoyed some residual popularity – especially from those who begged her to “peek” into their teachers’ minds for answers to upcoming tests. Kurt was still in the closet so far as his mutancy was concerned, so he – or his hologram form at least – was as well liked as ever. Evan looked down at his board, sighing and resigning himself to another long afternoon of skateboarding – alone.
Life – or at least his – had thoroughly sucked in the days
since mutantkind had been “discovered.” Before the mess in
Edging away from his fellow dismissed students, the blond put some distance between himself and the crowd, standing beneath a large pine tree, and considered just going home, finishing his homework early for a change and zoning out in his room. He’d barely been able to concentrate the whole day as the unbearable itching and random appearances of spikes drove him half out of his mind. Rolling up the sleeve on his hoodie, Evan rubbed the fading welts on his arm. They were other places, too – his back, his knees, even on the shaved areas of his scalp. It was seriously beginning to freak him out, but then, when he’d first discovered his powers, it had been a scary time, too. He glanced thoughtfully over to where a bunch of his former basketball teammates were boarding a bus for an away game, and he sighed bitterly. Maybe the whole spike thing was an offshoot of his frustration of being a virtual pariah and being forced to quit doing things he loved to do and was good at. Or maybe it was just growing pains. Literally.
“They’re gonna get their asses kicked.”
Evan nearly tripped over his board at the unexpected voice, and he whirled around to face the suddenly present Pietro, who was sneering at the boys getting on the school bus. Swallowing hard, Evan wasn’t sure what to do or say. He had barely seen the speedy mutant in the two days following their “tiff,” let alone talked to him. Evan had wondered if it really was over between them or if it should be, and he’d interpreted Pietro’s silence and avoidance as confirmation that they weren’t going to be hanging out anymore. But now . . .
“Playing Central? Have you been smoking crack? Bayville’s JV squad could make Central’s starters look like a joke.” Evan spoke cautiously and was a little nervous about the seriousness in Pietro’s expression. What does he want? What’s he doing? Small-talk was generally not in Pietro’s bag of tricks. “They’ll probably score 75 before Central’s five get their sneakers on.”
“With that pitiful lineup? Not likely.” Pietro was still not looking at him. “Maybe they’d have a chance if they had a real point guard and not a tackling dummy.”
Evan blinked. Point guard had been his position before Coach had forced him out. Watching a slow smirk form on the white-haired mutant’s face, Evan smiled for the first time in what seemed days. Pietro’s compliments were always oblique and backhanded, but even so, they were always sincere. “Thanks,” he said softly.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Daniels,” Pietro said with a smirk. “They were barely a team when you were there. But they’re even more hopeless now that they’ve got someone in there who’s built like a cement mixer – and is probably about as fast.”
The skater did his best to look annoyed, but inside he was grinning. Pietro ribbing him was a sure sign that they were okay again, or at least, Pietro wasn’t as pissed as he had been after their fight. “Screw you, Maximoff.” Evan didn’t try to bleed the affection from his voice. “What are you doing here anyway?” Though Todd, Lance and Fred had been expelled from Bayville High after the fight they’d instigated before a key PTA meeting on whether mutant kids should be allowed at school, so far as Evan knew, Pietro’s name was still on the rolls at school, but the white-haired mutant was almost never in class.
Pietro looked him square in the eyes. “Nothing good on TV, all the movies that are out suck, and they won’t let anybody under 18 in the arcade during school hours. I figured I’d pay a visit to good old Bayville and see if I could drum up some excitement. But I found you instead.” His voice was bitter. “A few days ago, I would have figured getting you alone somewhere would have the potential to be real exciting. But now . . .” Pietro trailed off with a faltering shrug. “Now, I don’t know.”
Evan stared at Pietro, and mused at how gorgeous his lover’s eyes were. It wasn’t just their melted-sapphire color and the way they seemed to darken, lighten, dim or sparkle according to the speedster’s mood, but it was their ability to reveal everything and nothing of what Pietro was thinking – sometimes at the same time. He could tell Pietro was confused about where things stood with them, and for a guy as constantly sure of himself as Pietro tended to be, for his uncertainty to be so apparent on his face was rare.
“Look, ‘Tro, about the other night . . .” Evan paused to choose just the right thing to say. Pietro would get bored and fed up if he thought he was being snowed, but Evan wasn’t sure just how much of his “problem” he wanted to divulge to his boyfriend. “I’m, um, I’m going through some stuff right now and I . . . um . . . I’m just ticked off and frustrated about it – it doesn’t have anything to do with you or um, us, and I don’t mean it to seem like it does.”
Evan watched his boyfriend’s eyes soften as he accepted the words for the apology they were supposed to be. The smirk, however, remained. “What’s the matter? They’re putting the X-Games on pay per view?”
“No . . . I . . . uh . . .” The blond looked cautiously around at the stragglers loitering around the school. “I don’t think it’d be cool to talk about it here. You got a couple of minutes?”
Evan could tell from the slight widening of his eyes that Pietro’s interest was piqued despite the bored, “Yeah, sure,” that Pietro threw his way. Rubbing the small of his back, Evan inclined his head down the street to where there was a little clearing pretty secluded from prying eyes. He and Pietro went there often, mainly to talk and hang out and fool around some when staying indoors got to be too constraining for them. “We can talk at the place. You better go ahead of me.” He shook his head at Pietro’s questioning look. “It might look . . . weird if people see us walking together. We’re still supposed to hate each other, remember?”
“That’s old-school, Daniels,” Pietro said in all seriousness. “We’re mutants. We’re supposed to stick together. We’ve got to, now. Or else, they’re going to win.” He pointed to a group of smiling teens who were walking together and wearing identical T-shirts that read PRESERVE THE HUMAN RACE. More and more people were turning up with those T-shirts, and it was getting to be annoying and scary. Anti-mutant feeling was getting to be really intense and really public.
Glaring at the unknown teens, Evan glanced over at the speedster to reply, but blinked when he saw that Pietro had already departed and he was beneath the tree alone.
~*~
“’Tro . . . come on, I mean it. Let me up!”
“Nice try, Daniels . . .” Kisses were placed in rapid-fire succession across the skater’s neck and across his chin, and Pietro ground his hips into Evan’s lower half, leaning in with his full body weight to keep the blond pinned to the ground. The blond had been on his back ever since he’d arrived at the place. Going into the clearing and not seeing Pietro around, Evan had wondered if the speed demon had decided to go home when a silver blur came out of nowhere, knocked him to the grass and kept him there, holding him captive with kisses and fleeting touches.
“I weigh, like, 15 pounds less than you at least. You want me off of you, then just . . .” Another series of kisses warmed the area beneath Evan’s chin. “push . . .” A nip at the skater’s ear made Evan jump. “me . . .” White teeth nibbled at a chocolate-colored neck. “off . . .”
“Yeah, right.” Evan attempted to disentangle himself from the speed demon’s arms and found, that, just as was the case in his four previous attempts to get free, Pietro was as slick as an eel, and with his powers was able to wriggle out of the skater’s grip with ease. “Quit using your powers, and then we’ll see if you can keep me down.”
The speed demon seemed to consider that for a moment. “All right fine. No powers. Just you and me, mano-a-mano.” Pietro relaxed his grip and Evan pounced, easily reversing their positions and pinioning the thinner teen to the ground.
“Ahhhhh! Now let’s hear the tough talk, Maximoff.” Evan grinned into the stunned face of his captive boyfriend. “Now who’s got the upper hand?”
Pietro was quiet for a second, and then a wide grin spread across the pale face. “You tell me, Daniels.” Quick as lightening, Pietro’s arms went around Evan’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss.
Evan returned the kiss with enthusiasm, losing himself in the gentle movements of Pietro’s lips on his own and in exploration of each others’ mouths, their tongues sharing the same dwelling. The blond felt some of the depression and anger that had settled upon him in recent days begin to lighten under the gentle kneading of Pietro’s hands as they moved from his neck and progressed downward across his shoulders and down his back, both hands slipping beneath the skater’s shirt to caress his bare skin . . .
And Evan froze as he felt the long fingers slide over the Braille-like welts that dotted his lower back and sides, souvenirs of a spike attack that had happened that morning in the showers after gym. Opening his eyes and breaking the liplock, Evan saw Pietro staring at him, his brow furrowed as he moved with uncharacteristic slowness over the marked flesh.
“What the hell’s the matter with your back? It feels like somebody attacked you with a cheese grater.”
Evan rolled off the other teen with a sigh, his light mood going muddy again. For a few carefree moments, he’d been able to forget his problem and just be himself again – the Evan Daniels that existed before Sentinels and government briefings and pro-humanity groups and wayward powers. He knew that the old days of mutants under wraps and anonymity were gone forever, which made it even more tragic when forced to leave the sweet comfort he inexplicably found in Pietro’s arms.
“’Tro, I . . . wait . . . wait! What are you doing?!” Evan found his arm trapped in a vise-like grip, and with little fanfare, Pietro stripped him of his sweatshirt and undershirt, sending both pieces of clothing flying across the clearing. “Maximoff, don’t –” He struggled to get out of Pietro’s grip, but found himself thrashing uselessly as the speedy teen spun him around like a top, getting a full and unobstructed view of the blond’s back. Evan stopped struggling then. It was over – his dirty little secret, or at least part of it, was literally out in the open. Evan let the blue-eyed gaze sear his back and just waited for Pietro to freak out or laugh or start teasing him . . .
The grip eased. “Who did this to you?”
Evan whirled around, stunned at the cold fury in the silver-haired teen’s voice. Pietro’s expression was neutral but the skater could see glints of anger flickering in the blue eyes like lightning against a gray sky. As frightening as it was, Evan was used to that look now. It was the same expression Pietro wore whenever anti-mutant comments were made in his hearing or when the so-called pro-humanity groups held demonstrations in Bayville’s main square. It was a chilling, cold-blooded stare, and Evan knew that he had only to name some random human as the “culprit,” and Pietro would take off, hunt the person down, and hurt him exquisitely, all in the name of protecting “mutant interests.” Evan recalled the Professor saying that it was very likely that despite his precautions and preparations, there would be a mutant-human war at some point in the future, and Evan could imagine his speedy boyfriend on the front lines of such a war.
“’Tro, chill, okay? It’s not what you think.” Evan took a deep breath and remembered what Kurt had said the night before about letting someone know about his condition. Who else to tell but the guy he swapped spit with regularly? Weren’t boyfriends supposed to share . . . or something? Besides, it wasn’t as if he’d be able to hide anymore. “I . . . did this to me.”
Pietro just stared at him, waiting, Evan realized, for a more complete explanation. “My powers . . . my spikes . . . they’re going nuts.” The blond quietly collected his shirts and shook the grass out of them before putting them back on. “It’s been happening a couple of weeks now. I can’t control it too well . . . like when I first found out about my powers. Sometimes, I couldn’t even walk without ripping a spike – it was freaky.” Shaking his head, Evan remembered those days before he joined the X-Men and he hadn’t yet learned how to control his powers. “Except now, it’s like ten times worse.” Evan stared down at his forearm. “Before, my spikes never used to hurt. Like, my skin would itch a little right before they pop out, but they’d come out without any problem. I’d barely feel it. I’m feeling it now.” Evan looked up at the still-silent Pietro. “It’s not like they’re ripping through my skin or anything, but they pinch now. And they leave marks. Plus . . .” He paused before disclosing the most troubling part of the new development. “They don’t go back right away.”
The speedster’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about? Go back where?”
“Back in. To my skin.” Evan sighed in exasperation at Pietro’s blank stare. “Just . . . all right, just watch this.” Evan rolled up his sleeve and let his body relax as he mentally flipped the internal switch that created his spikes. He gritted his teeth and rode out the intense itching of his skin and bit his lip hard when a row of bone popped out, sending a slight, sharp pain through his entire arm. Glancing up at Pietro whose eyes were riveted to the row of spikes, Evan counted to three and then attempted to reverse the mental process that created the spikes, to retract the bones. Nothing happened, and the spikes remained.
“I’m trying to send ‘em back, but they won’t go,” Evan said quietly, fighting to keep his fear and frustration from showing in his face. “I have to concentrate really, really hard.” Shutting his eyes, he did just that, closing out the world around him until he could hear only his frenzied heartbeat in his ears and feel his brain throbbing in his skull. He felt a movement on his skin, and Evan opened his eyes to see that the spikes had gone in again, leaving their tell-tale markings behind. He held out his arm to Pietro. “See?”
Staring at the outstretched arm a minute, Pietro turned wondering eyes to his boyfriend. “So what does this mean? It looks annoying, but doesn’t mean it’s dangerous. Maybe this is just your version of getting zits.” Pietro took step forward. “What’s King Peace on Earth say about it?”
Evan rolled his eyes at Pietro’s derisive nickname for Professor Xavier. “He hasn’t said anything. Nobody’s said anything because I haven’t told anyone.”
Dark eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Nobody?”
The blond hesitated. He had told Kurt after the furry mutant had seen him struggling to retract his spikes after a Danger Room session, but he thought it as well to not mention that to Pietro. “I haven’t told my parents, my aunt . . . I don’t know what to tell ‘em. I’m hoping it’s just some phase. Maybe stress or something.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyway, it’s getting weird. I bump into something, or something bumps me, and I spike up, just like back in the day. Nobody’s really noticed yet, but that doesn’t mean somebody won’t. That’s why I bailed on getting pierced. You were right about it not being about my parents and about me being . . . scared.” The skater thought for sure Pietro would jump on his admission of fear, and was surprised when the thinner boy said nothing. “But not scared of getting pierced – if I get spiky when someone taps me on the shoulder too hard, imagine what I might do if a needle’s put through my ear.”
He saw Pietro pale in understanding of what a bad situation an errant spike could create – especially with the piercer in close proximity. “I know I should have said something before, but I thought it’d go away before now.” And it hasn’t. Evan rubbed his still-tingling arm and poked at the darkening red welts there. Feels like it’s getting worse, too.
“This has been going on a couple of weeks?” Pietro pushed wisps of hair out of his eyes. “I’ve been doing a lot more than bumping into you since then. How come I don’t look like I belong on top of a ham sandwich?”
Evan thought that over for a minute. That was a good point, and not one he’d considered until just then. Except for Danger Room scenarios and other odd times, he hadn’t had any spiking problems around his teammates or his boyfriend. The worst of it came during school or right after and especially after run-ins with the pro-humanity organizations that were beginning to form in Bayville High.
“I guess it’s like kind of a weird sort of reverse psychology or something like that,” Evan said at last. “Like, the more I worry about hiding ‘em, the more they come out. I don’t worry about my spikes around the mansion or when I’m with you, ‘cause I guess I don’t feel like I’m in a hostile environment like at school.” Evan rubbed a hand over his hair. “You’re used to me with the spikes . . . they don’t scare you and they don’t disgust you and you don’t act like you want to kill me when you see them. I don’t feel . . . I don’t know . . . intimidated by you, I guess. I can be . . . me.” And so saying, Evan realized how true that was, and how true it always had been, even before his powers manifested. No matter what, he’d never had to pretend or put up a front with Pietro, and it had been refreshing to know there was someone out there who knew he was more than just a good-time guy who cared more about busting moves than ruining a test’s curve – even if that someone had, for a long time, been an “enemy.”
“I don’t intimidate you? I must be doing something wrong.” The speedster’s tone was dry, but his smirk was so closely bordering on a smile that Evan laughed despite the nagging worry in his brain that his life would be so much more complicated if his powers didn’t settle down soon. But in another moment, he was back on the ground with Pietro on top of him and snaking his hand down the front of Evan’s cargos in an attempt at a new form of intimidation. Evan put up a half-hearted struggle, content to bury his problems for awhile. He knew he’d have to face them again, possibly sooner rather than later, but Evan was rooting for later – much later – and he put the thoughts aside and gladly allowed Pietro to establish his “dominance.” Evan knew he’d get a chance to turn the tables and be on top again – literally and figuratively – soon enough.
to be continued