He was the master of movement. The sultan of swiftness. The baron of briskness.
As such, Pietro was used to thinking and acting at the speed of light - times
five. It wasn't something he was necessarily aware of every second of every day.
It was just the way things were with him; he thought fast, he acted fast, he was fast. Period.
But not now. He was no Quicksilver now - not in body or in mind. His brain cells
couldn't work nearly quick enough to formulate a single word to say to the boy
standing in front of him. Pietro wriggled nervously under the gaze from Evan's
brown, lucid eyes. Those eyes shone bright; the speedster could see them
clearly, even though the open courtyard had by this time been shrouded in a
silky darkness. The library had closed, and it was eerily quiet in courtyard,
save the trees' shivering in the stiff night breeze and an odd clattering sound
Pietro could not quite account for.
And Evan is here. And he said he knows. He knows. Oh my fucking god, he knows .
. .
"Hey . . . you all right?" Evan's head tilted slightly. "Your
teeth are chattering."
So that's what that sound is. Pietro thought idly, wrapping his arms loosely
around his waist. "Uh . . . cold." Cold. Cold?! Wonderful. The
first thing I'm able to say in at least two minutes is cold? I am such a
fucking master of words. "I mean, it's cold. Out here. That's what I
meant." Great. He shut his eyes tight. Now I'm babbling. I am definitely
on a roll tonight.
"So. You know." The words rolled out awkwardly, as if Pietro had to
force them out of his mouth. "You . . . know."
Evan stared at his nemesis with concern. "Damn, man, you're pale. Maybe you
should sit down again."
"No thanks." The boy stood shivering. I still can't believe Todd told
him. I swear, I'm going to kill him. Or myself. Or both. Simultaneously. But . .
. but wait. Pietro studied Evan, noticing that the darker boy was regarding him
with a little half-smile and a generally pleasant expression. He knows. He
knows that I love him. And he didn't run away. He knows, and he's still standing
here. He knows . . . and he's with me now. What does this mean?
"Listen: Todd was only able to tell me a little bit. We were busy waiting
for you to wake up . . . so it wasn't as if we had this long, drawn-out
conversation."
"He talked to you about this while I was lying bleeding and injured?"
The speedster's voice contained just a touch of indignation. "I'm so glad
that me falling headfirst from about a zillion stairs gave you the chance to
have a chat."
"Man, it wasn't anything like that." Evan replied with a sigh.
"We were carrying you over here, and Todd was really messed up, saying how
sorry he was that he came out here, but that he just wanted to help. I didn't
have a clue what he was talking about. But when we put you on the bench and I
was tying up your arm, he just started spilling. He told me about the letter. He
told me what you said to him about me. He told me -"
"--Everything. Todd told you everything," Pietro said dully. The ache
in his head began afresh and his knees felt wobbly. I will not faint again.
Iwon'tIwon'tIwon't.
"Well, not everything," Evan said. "We were kinda busy making
sure you weren't dead."
"Anything he said was more than enough. Too much." Pietro studied
him closely. "What exactly did he tell you?"
"Not much, really." Evan shrugged. "Just that he saw this friend
of his putting the letter in my locker, and that he asked her about it -"
Her? HER?! The speedster's eyes went large. "He what?" His throat
closed around the last word, and he began to cough violently.
Evan glanced over at the pale teen. "You all right?"
"Fine." Pietro cleared his throat, battling to regain control of his
emotions. "Go on."
"That was pretty much it," Evan said. "You came to right about
then, and he shut up quick." There was silence for a moment. "Um, but
before that, he said he couldn't tell me who the person is, that he was, y'know,
sworn to secrecy. But he said that you know. And you could tell me."
"Did he now?" he muttered, kicking at a clump of dirt near his left
foot. "And why would I want to do that, Daniels?"
"Because . . . ah . . ." The other boy fumbled for words. "Um . .
. because I'm curious." Evan looked into the impassive face of his
adversary. "And, uh, because . . . Todd said you would."
Pietro smiled a little. "You really must be desperate Spyke-boy. You're
listening to what Todd says?" He chuckled at the annoyed expression on
Evan's face. He knew that antagonizing the blond was directly opposite to his
goal of winning the boy's love -- or at least getting him into bed -- but he
couldn't help it. There were times it seemed as if Evan was put on the Earth for
Pietro to perturb.
"So you're saying Todd was yanking me?" Evan's jaw twitched.
Oh god, not this again. "No." Pietro rolled his eyes. "I'm
just saying why would Todd do you any favors by getting you a date? You're an
X-Gee-- er, Man. What would he get out of it?" He was quiet a moment.
"Besides, I got the impression that you couldn't give a damn about this
anonymous letter writer." Pietro's gaze went steely remembering their
hallway tete-a-tete.
"Okay. I admit it; I acted like a jerk," Evan said. "But, I dunno
. . . the way Todd was going on, sounds like he really cares about this person.
I mean, I've never seen him so serious about anything, man. They must be
really close for him to not have dogged me out to her." Evan looked a
little worried. "He hasn't, has he? Like, has he told her I was a total
asshole or anything?"
"Sure he has," Pietro muttered, chafing at Evan's continual use of
"she" and "her." "But this person . . . ah . . . has
sort of a blind spot when it comes to you. There's not anything much Todd -- or
anybody -- can say that would change this person's mind."
"So there really is someone?" Evan fought hard to keep his expression
neutral, but relief, tempered with a touch of hope, was evident in his voice.
"Yes. It's real, okay?" Pietro said in mock exasperation. "It'srealit'srealit'sreal!
Happy?"
Evan didn't answer, but gave a smile -- genuine, but fleeting -- that was all
the answer Pietro needed. "And you know who it is?"
He hesitated. Then, "Yes."
"And it really is a friend of Tolensky's?"
Pietro sighed. "Unfortunately."
Evan grinned slightly. "I won't hold it against her. Much." A pause.
"So. Uh, who is she?"
She. The hairs on the back of Pietro's neck rose. She. One word -- a simple
little pronoun, innocuous, really but Evan's saying it in that light, lilting
Spyke-happy voice caused the fleet-footed mutant's heart to feel as if it were
being put through a meat grinder.
She. Of course Evan would think his admirer was a she. Why wouldn't he? That was
the order of the world: boys liked girls, girls liked boys, and boys and girls
got together to kiss and screw and make other boys and girls. It was the way of
the world. It was normal.
But we're not. Pietro thought as the wind whipped color into his cheeks.
We're so not normal, Evan and me. Neither's anything in this world, or any other, so why the hell should anything else
be?
"Well?" Evan's impatient tone interrupted the white-haired boy's
internal monologue. "Spill it, man. Who is it?"
Pietro recovered himself, and one side of his mouth quirked into a patented
Quicksilver grin. "You expect me to just tell you? Dream on, Spykey.
Where's the fun in that?"
"That's not right," the darker mutant protested. "I'd tell you
if you were in my place."
Pietro shrugged. "Good for you, Daniels. But Todd was wrong -- I can't tell you
either. See, I'm sworn to secrecy, too." Pietro spread his hands in a
helpless gesture at Evan's disbelieving glare. "I'm serious! Sorry,
Daniels. You had your chance in the hall that day when this all first happened.
But you blew it."
"So this is a friend of yours, too?"
"Uh, in a manner of speaking," Pietro said haltingly. "Yes. I
guess you could say that. But I can't say who it is. I promised." That much
was true - he'd promised Todd that he'd see him in hell, or at least in the
basement of the Brotherhood House, which was the same thing, really -- before
he'd tell Evan the truth. "Looks like you won't be breaking any dates with
your left hand anytime soon."
"You wish." Evan smirked. "C'mon, man . . . why can't you just
tell me? I mean, what's the big deal anyway?"
Pietro forced himself to count to ten - slowly, or what passed for it for him - before opening his mouth. "I like seeing you squirm. You want to know so
badly, you figure it out."
"This isn't fair, man. Can't you even give me a hint?"
"I could . . . but I won't." Pietro grinned, taking a perverse
pleasure in his rival's discomfiture. Sometimes it was too easy to get under
Evan's skin. It was getting into the boy's heart that was the hard part.
"Besides . . . even if I gave you five hints . . . Ha! I could give you fifty and you'd be even more lost than you are now."
"Oh yeah?"
"No question." Pietro's voice was smug.
"Yeah?" Evan got closer, his eyes glittering dangerously.
Pietro smiled thinly. "Yup."
Evan fell quiet, and his gaze wandered to the ground. In the next moment, he
looked up, smiling slyly. "Wanna bet?"
Don't stare at the lips, don't stare, don't . . .
"Bet?" Pietro asked, puzzled.
"Sure. I bet you that if you gave me a couple of hints, I could guess who
it is," Evan said. "They'd have to be good hints -- nothing bogus. But
I bet I could. That way, I find out who it is, and you don't break your
word."
Pietro laughed a little. "Daniels, please. ~I'll~ bet that I could give you
every clue in the world and you wouldn't even be at the starting gate."
"If you're that confident, put your money where your mouth is," Evan
retorted. "You scared I'll prove you wrong? Or are you full of it, Maximoff?"
No." Pietro's expression was serious. "I'm not."
"You're not what? Full of it?"
"I'm not scared." Pietro's voice was quiet. "Of anything."
That was a lie of course. There were plenty of things that frightened him -
fire, venomous bugs, Fred in a Speedo. And he was terrified, absolutely
white-knuckled horrified, of the changes he went through whenever he was around
the teen. Scared of how those dark eyes sent shockwaves all through him. Scared
of how being near him made his heart pound, his knees weak. He was different
whenever he was near Evan - slightly less sharp, slightly more vulnerable, and
slightly less perfect, and utterly unable to stop himself from feeling that way.
Pietro was aware of that - painfully aware - and tried to compensate for it by
making his movements faster, his quips wittier, and his posture more rigid, but
it never really helped. He always felt "less-than" whenever he was
around the blond, and it scared him. But it frightened him more that there could
be a love so strong that it made him, in so many respects, weaker.
"Come on, Maximoff. Think of it as a challenge." Evan grinned.
Pietro's eyes narrowed. Evan knew him well -- too well. And for all the wrong
reasons. "You won't have a chance. And why would I want to waste my time on
something you can't possibly win? That's not fair."
"Well then you don't have anything to lose, do you, Quickie? And when have
you ever cared about being fair to an X-Man?" Evan asked. "So, what do
you say?"
The speedster stood unnaturally still. Evan's confidence was making him very
nervous. But love of his life or no, he was Quicksilver, dammit, and Quicksilver
never backed away from a challenge. "All right."
"What?" Evan blinked in surprise. "Really?"
"Really. If that's how you wanna play it . . . fine," Pietro said
through clenched teeth. "You want hints? I'll give you hints. You want
clues? I will give you clues until you choke." He got in the blond's face
until they were nearly nose to nose. "And you'll still be clueless."
"We'll see," Evan replied coolly. "So what are the rules? Is
there going to be a limit to how many I get? I think I could probably get it in
five."
"Props for the confidence, but no." Pietro shook his head. "If
we're gonna make this a real challenge, you've got to stay in the game for
more than two seconds. Here's how it's gonna work: I'll give you 25 . . . hints.
Five a day for a week at school. You get to ask a question - only one - after
each clue. After you get your five for the day, you get three guesses at the
person. You get it right, then you get what you want - you'll know who's got the
hots for you. You don't get it in 25, well, you'll be playing the guessing game
alone, 'cause I won't tell you anything."
"And do you get anything if I don't?" Evan asked.
Heartache, depression, frustration . . . that, for starters, would be his
"reward" if Evan guessed wrong. But then, he'd get that, probably, if
he guessed right. Pietro shook his head curtly. "Besides the satisfaction
of knowing that I'm still better than you - no."
"That sounds fair. It shouldn't be that hard. Bayville's not that big a
school."
"No . . . it isn't. But this," Pietro lightly tapped the darker boy's
forehead, "isn't that big a brain, either."
"Whatever." Evan frowned slightly. "But you gotta play fair, man.
If I get it right, what guarantee do I get that you'll tell me?"
"Daniels!" Pietro's eyes widened. "I'm shocked . . . wounded that
you'd think I do something like that--" In the midst of his dramatics,
Pietro banged his hurt arm against a tree. "Owowowowow! Anyway, I wouldn't
cheat - I wouldn't have anything to gain by lying to you."
Evan still looked skeptical, but he nodded. "All right. I'll trust you.
You're asking a lot . . . but I guess I don't have much of a choice."
"No. Guess you don't." Pietro glanced around. The wind was blowing his
hair in his face, and suddenly began to feel cold again. His head was feeling
better, but the cold was seeping through the rip in his sweater, chilling him to
the marrow. It was time to leave -- not that he really wanted to. He could tell
Evan was still eager to talk about his "admirer," and Pietro himself
was not exactly anxious to return home to the cold, cheerless Brotherhood house.
But he'd promised Todd he'd be home before too long. And under the
circumstances, it was probably just as well that he go home, rest up, fantasize
about Evan some more, and ponder how something so simple and straightforward as
a crush could turn into an all-out, full-scale competition.
"Gotta go, Daniels." Pietro sighed. "We'll pick this up tomorrow.
Meet me after school at the track at Liberty Park. Alone, of course."
"Um . . . okay." Evan appeared a little uncertain. "But, Liberty
Park's kind of . . . far from school, isn't it?"
"Only a couple of miles." Pietro smirked. "Don't be lazy. Use
your little skateboard if you want. But you don't show, deal's off."
"Fine, fine. I'll be there." Evan glanced at his watch. Five more
minutes until Kitty would return. He hadn't realized it was so late; Pietro was
leaving just in the nick of time. "I'll see you tomorrow, Maximoff."
"Good. This should be . . . interesting." Pietro pulled the sleeves of
his shirt as far down as they could go over his chilly, pale arms and stretched
tentatively, ready to depart. "Hey . . . you have any thoughts about
who it might be?"
"Huh? Well . . . I dunno." Evan frowned thoughtfully. "I guess .
. . no . . . not really. Haven't really thought about it, to tell the
truth."
"Oooookay. Is there anyone that you hope it isn't?" Pietro asked
nonchalantly. On his injured arm, the bandage shifted and uncomfortably against
the split skin, but Pietro ignored the pain, keeping his eyes on Evan.
The blond looked mystified. "What? What kind of a question is that?"
A good one. Pietro looked thoughtful, but kept quiet a minute.
"See ya tomorrow, Daniels. Don't be late." The boy turned away and took a few
steps forward, his hands in his pockets. He stopped suddenly, and whirled
around. "You know . . . I think maybe I'm making this a little too hard
on you. So in the interest of good sportsmanship, I'll give you one hint. Free
of charge."
"Really?" Evan smiled. "Cool! So I get six tomorrow?"
"Uh-uh. You get one. Right now."
Dark eyes went wide. "You will? Now?"
"Now." Pietro nodded. "Watch closely, Spyke-boy. Don't
blink."
"Huh?" Evan asked puzzled. "What do you-"
The brown-skinned teen jumped back, startled. Pietro was gone, leaving a trail
of leaves dancing in his wake.
Evan stood stunned for a moment as leaves rose and settled around his feet.
"What the hell kind of a hint is that?"
He glanced around for a few moments more, still a little dazed by the
fleet-footed mutant's abrupt departure. He wondered if Pietro wasn't just
playing with his mind somehow. Really, what sort of a hint could he get from
Pietro's vanishing? People couldn't just disappear, of course. Except for
Pietro himself, if he was running fast enough. Or Kurt . . .
Evan stopped short. Kurt? Could it be . . .? His cheeks burned at the thought.
Sure, the German boy was cute - in a fuzzy way -- but Kurt? Goofy, Gut
Bomb-loving Kurt?
"Nah," he said aloud, shaking the thought away, noting with no small
amount of relief that he hadn't been so stupid as to mention Kurt as a
possibility to Pietro. Maximoff finds out I'm bi, it'll be all over Bayville
before I step foot in the door.
"Besides,
Kurt's hardly friendly with anybody in the
Brotherhood except Tabitha." He stopped again. "Hmmm . . . Tabitha . .
. she lives with them . . . and she and Todd are kinda tight . . ."
Lost in thought, the blond moved toward the bench and sat facing out toward the
quad, while a few feet away, Pietro peered around a tree, watching Evan's every
move. Startling blue eyes caressed the dim figure sitting on the solitary bench,
huddling in his jacket against the cold air.
He looks so . . . alone. Pietro stared at the boy, feeling the desire to hold
him, or, at the very least, go back and talk some more. He fought the urge,
however. No. I've made enough of an ass of myself tonight. It's time to call it
a day. He turned away then, zipping off at something less than Quicksilver
speed just as Kitty and Lance, arriving from the opposite end of the quad,
emerged from the shadows.