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Hiding from Charles Xavier was easier than Peter expected, even with his broken leg slowing him down. He didn’t have a problem with the professor, although seeing him bald and in a wheelchair after only knowing him as a drugged-up, angry, not-paralyzed, long-haired hippie was a little unnerving. He just had a problem with the professor’s mutation. Peter couldn’t stand the idea of someone getting inside his head. No thank you. When Jean had gotten in there during a training session (speaking of which, Peter really hated the name Danger Room, did everybody in this house have to be so cheesy all the time? They even gave mutant nicknames to the whole team, even though X-Men was already weird enough, and sure, Peter did think Quicksilver sounded pretty cool, but in general, he tried to reject the whole cheesy nickname thing outright, so unless they were on a mission, he absolutely insisted on being called Peter and not Quicksilver, he still had a reputation to protect, after all), she had spilled some unwanted news to the rest of the team. Peter had already been a little annoyed with Raven for telling Ororo so quickly that Magneto, big-bad-but-not-that-bad-all-the-time-I-can-sense-there-is-good-in-him-Charles-always-insists-terrorist-guy, is Peter’s father. Yeah, it was only one person. And as far as the other mutants in this school went, Ororo was one of the better ones. Cool power. Cool personality. Didn’t blab about Peter’s secret to anybody. But it was still Peter’s secret to tell, not Raven’s. And when Jean got into his head, hoo boy. Jean and Scott were one of those annoying couples (though if you asked him, Peter would tell you all couples were pretty annoying) who shared everything with each other. And Scott Summers couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it. First he told Kurt, then Jubilee, and then he went to Raven about it when Hank was in the room with them!, and Peter finally decided there had to be an end to it before it got all the way around to Erik, so he grabbed each one and had them in the Danger Room in 20 seconds, tops (that was a lie, Peter couldn’t even let his broken leg touch the ground, let alone walk, let alone run, let alone use his super speed, and if there was one thing that was causing him even more frustration than all the stupid fucking nicknames Raven and Hank insisted everyone use, then it was not being able to use his speed).
“Here’s the deal,” he announced, arms crossed and glaring down each of them, Scott most of all, “I know you all know. I’ve got a big bad terrorist dad. Whoop-de-fuckin’-doo. Frankly, the only one of you that should know is Raven, because she’s the only one I actually told about it, and that’s not something that anybody should be blabbing to anyone else, at all, period. Yes, I am looking at you, Raven. And Jean. And Scott.” That last name he said scowling, and Scott ducked his head and probably had a sheepish look in his eyes, even though Peter couldn’t actually see his eyes.
“Jean, I know you only know because you saw it, or heard it, or however that works. So I can’t totally fault you for that, even though I really don’t like having people in my head, because I know you don’t have a total grip on that kind of thing.”
Jubilee raised her hand. “If you’re only calling out the people who actually told other people, why do I have to be here?”
Peter just blinked at her, as slowly as he could. “I’m not done yet.”
She tossed her hair and didn’t reply.
“Listen,” he continued. “I don’t want this going any further. Seriously. I especially don’t want Charles to know about it. So please try not to think about it around him.”
“Why don’t you want Charles to know?” Hank asked. “You’ve known him longer than most of the people here.”
“Yeah, but so has Erik. And I know Charles probably won’t tell him, but honestly, that’s a risk I’m not really willing to take right now. So please, just keep it on the down-low.”
There were nods all around, and Peter silently waved them off, dismissing them. Only Raven stuck around, and she approached him slowly.
“I’m sorry I told Ororo.”
“It’s okay,” he shrugged. “I’m not really upset with you. You only told one person, and she’s not the type to mention it to anyone else.”
“Well, I’m sorry Scott told so many people.”
Peter brushed it off. He wasn’t one for holding grudges, that took too much time and too much energy. He must have gotten that trait from his mom, because if anyone could hold a grudge, it was Magneto. “I’m a big kid, I’ll get over it.”
She chuckled at that. “I thought you hated it when people call you a kid.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not people,” he replied with a smile.
The silence hung in the Danger Room (Jesus, Peter really hated that stupid name) for a little bit until Raven spoke again. “I won’t mention anything. To Charles or Erik. But you’re going to have to tell him eventually.”
Peter let out a little scoff. “Do I?”
“Yes,” she insisted. “I know Erik’s not exactly the super-dad of your dreams, but-”
“He’s the only one I’ve got? I know. And part of me wants to like him. Hell, he was actually kind of nice to me when I broke him out of the Pentagon. But at the same time, he’s… y’know.”
“Killed dozens of people, including JFK, tried to assassinate another president, committed murder in cold blood, and basically threatened to wipe out humanity with an army of mutants.”
“No kidding.”
“Look, Peter, I’m not going to attempt and rationalize everything that Erik’s done. He’s done some bad shit. But’s he’s also been through some bad shit. And to know that he still has some hope, some family left… You have no idea what that would mean to him.”
“Yeah, just… I’m just waiting for the right time.”
“And what is the right time?”
“You know, I don’t usually know what the right time is until it happens. I’m sort of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of guy.”
“I picked that up on my own, strangely enough.”
“Cute,” he huffed. “Well, I’m going to head out. Don’t think about any of this in front of Charles.”
“Cross my heart,” she smiled.
And then he was off.
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Peter felt like a lovestruck teenage girl. No matter how hard he tried, how comfortable he got, how long he tried to keep his eyes shut, he just couldn’t sleep. All he could was stare up at his ceiling and blink, and that was starting to piss him off. So instead of sitting there and staring, he swung his legs over the side of his bed, hooked his Walkman onto his pants, grabbed his crutches, and hobbled his way down to the the fridge in one of the mansion’s many kitchens. He fumbled around for a second, looking for anything alcoholic (Charles didn’t approve of them keeping alcohol in the house, but this kitchen was in the part of the house where all the adults stayed, and Hank, Raven, and Peter had all teamed up to get Professor Stick-Up-His-Ass to let them keep just a couple beers down here). When he finally grabbed a beer, he headed outside and sat just in front of the mansion doors, in the grass, and stretched his legs out as much as he could. He flicked on his Walkman, and the sounds of rock and roll flowed into his brain.
Peter wasn’t sure how long he was out there before someone came up next to him.
“Couldn’t sleep?” They asked, and Peter glanced up at them, and there was Erik, in sweatpants and an old, ratty t-shirt, looking down at him, and holy shit, holy shit, that was his dad, right there, talking to him, oh my god.
“No,” he admitted, pausing his music, “I don’t get much sleep anyway. Body moves too fast to stay asleep for very long.”
“I see,” Erik said, and he motioned to the grass next to where Peter was currently sitting. “Do you mind if I join you?”
“Not at all, man.”
There was a long silence, and Peter kept his music paused just in case Erik said anything else, he didn’t want to miss it, what if it was something important, but he forgot to take his headphones out, and so Erik asked him after a while, “What are you listening to?”
“Oh, um…” His brain had been preoccupied with thoughts of Erik sitting right next to him, right there, oh my god, and he had to play his music again real quick to remember what he had been listening to. He heard coins clinking and that familiar guitar riff, and he knew. “Pink Floyd, they’re an English rock band-”
“I’ve heard of them.”
“Yeah, they’re good.”
Silence again.
At least Peter knew where that awkward streak of his came from. Oh, sure, he was cool most of the time. Almost all of the time, he’d argue. But Peter didn’t do well with uncomfortability. And if there was anything that was uncomfortable, sitting quietly on the grass with his dad who didn’t know he was his dad and talking about Pink Floyd in the middle of the night took the cake. His mom was never awkward, she was smooth and confident and kind and never faltered. Erik, on the other hand? Erik, with his hand-wringing and his silence and his whole distant persona was awkward to the max.
“I realized, Peter, that I never properly thanked you.”
Peter scoffed. “Thank me for what?”
“For your help 10 years ago. At the Pentagon.”
“Oh, that was nothing-”
“And your help against Apocalypse. I’m sorry it cost you your leg.”
“Don’t worry about it, man, it’s not like they amputated or anything. It’ll heal.”
“Yes, it will. But I know what it’s like to be unable to use your powers. I’m sure it can’t be easy for you.”
Peter chuckled a little at that. “Yeah, it’s kind of a pain in my ass. But I’ll get over it.”
“Even so. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Peter murmured. “And thanks for thanking me. Really, though, it’s Logan and Charles and Hank you should be thanking. They were the ones who actually got you out and made the plan and everything. I just got dragged along for the ride.”
“It was you who did most of the leg work,” Erik argued.
“Har de har. Good one.”
The corners of Erik’s mouth tugged up into a slight smile, and if Peter wasn’t trying his damndest to stay cool, he was sure his jaw would have dropped straight to the grass. This was Magneto, he didn’t just smile at shitty puns, even ones that he made himself, the world must be turning upside down.
Not knowing what to say, Peter raised his beer to his lips and took a long swig, making Erik knit his eyebrows together.
“Are you drinking?”
“I am an adult, we’re legally allowed to do that.”
“Don’t get smart with me, young man,” Erik said, raising one eyebrow and giving Peter a small smile again, seriously, what were the odds? He stuck his hand out. “May I?”
“Go nuts, old man,” Peter quipped in return, and handed his father the bottle.
“I’m only forty-seven, Peter, I’m not old.”
Forty-seven? Which mean Erik was young when he and Peter’s mom… Ugh. Peter really didn’t want to think about that. “Hey, if you’re allowed to call me ‘young man’, then I’m allowed to call you ‘old man’. That’s just equality.”
“You are a young man, Peter. It’s not nearly the same.”
“It’s close enough, dude. And hey, if you don’t like it, I can always just take my beer back.”
“Has anyone told you that you’re too stubborn for your own good?”
“Many a time.”
“Well, they’re not wrong,” Erik chuckled. Chuckled! A sound resembling a laugh actually came out of Erik Lehnsherr, his dad, his dad, his dad, this was too much. “It really is late, Peter. You ought to try and get as much sleep as you can.”
“I will if you will.”
“That’s fair. Very well, then, let’s head back in.”
Peter grabbed his crutches, and Erik helped pull him up to his feet. Together, they walked (Well, Erik walked, Peter hobbled, did he mention how much he really hated this cast? Because he hated it more than he hated anything right now, it was the most irritating thing and he had to deal with it every second of every day) back into the mansion, and when it was time for them to go their separate ways, Erik gave Peter a little nod.
“Good night, Peter.”
“Good night,” Peter replied. Dad.
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One of the best things about the mansion was the movie room. Peter wasn’t usually one for sitting still, let alone sitting still for two hours, but showing Kurt the classic that was Star Wars was totally worth it. When Peter found out that Scott, Jean, and Jubilee had taken Kurt to see Return of the Jedi without showing him the first two movies, he was outraged. So when the weekend came around, he made plans with all four of them (along with Ororo, Raven, and Hank, who he couldn’t leave out without feeling at least a little guilty) to get together Saturday night in the movie room and watch the first two films.
“It’s an X-Men movie night!’ Jubilee announced, grinning, as she flopped down into one of the armchairs.
“You’re not an X-Man,” Scott smirked, grabbing a bowl of popcorn and getting comfortable on the couch.
“Shut up, Scott. I’m close enough.”
Peter chuckled as he sat between Scott’s popcorn bowl and Ororo, and flicked the TV on. “Everybody be quiet, I’m startin’ the movie.”
A New Hope went off without a hitch, although Kurt did ask the occasional question. It was only when The Empire Strikes Back finished that Peter was officially screwed.
The credits were rolling, and Peter grabbed the empty popcorn bowl from between him and Scott, placing it on his head like a helmet.
“Peter,” he announced with the worst accent he could muster, turning to Scott. “I am your father.”
Everyone laughed, and Scott grabbed Peter’s goggles, pulling them onto his forehead. “NOOOOOOOO!” He shouted, raising one fist in the air.
“I think you mean MAGNETOOOO,” Raven joked, leading to another round of laughter.
Which was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind the couch. Everyone turned to face the sound, and were greeted with the crossed arms and raised eyebrows of one Professor Charles Xavier, glaring at them from the doorway of the movie room. “Peter,” he announced, “May I speak with you?”
Peter’s mind was racing a mile a minute. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he knows, you fucking idiot, he knows Erik’s your dad, no, shut up, don’t think about that in front of him, fuck, you’re screwed, oh my god, what are you going to do, he knows, he knows, he knows, what if he tells Erik, fuck.
“You can calm down, Peter, I’m not going to tell Erik.”
A long sigh escaped Peter as he joined the Professor in the hallway.
“But you ought to.”
“Yeah, I know, I’ve heard it from Raven too. I’m just not ready right now.”
“Why aren’t you ready?”
“I don’t know, Charles, I just… I can’t tell him yet.”
“Are you worried he’s going to disappoint you?”
“What-”
“Because he will. And so will I, and so will Raven, and Hank, and your mother, and everyone else you meet. We’re all human, we’re not perfect. Erik isn’t either. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t tell him.”
“Yeah, I know. I don’t care if he disappoints me.”
Charles let out a breath, almost like a long “Oh.”
“Just… What if I’m not… What if he thinks I’m trying to replace his wife and daughter, or… Or what if he’s too far gone to care? What if he doesn’t deserve to know?”
“Peter,” Charles shook his head, smiling, “If anyone will fight for their right to deserve being your father, I promise it is Erik. And oftentimes we don’t deserve the things that we need.”
“You’re saying Erik needs me to tell him.”
“I’m saying, Peter, that you are all he has left. Raven and I are his family as well, in a way, but it isn’t nearly the same.”
“Okay. Thanks, Charles.”
“You are welcome. And don’t worry. I won’t say a word.”
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The day Peter got his cast of was almost certainly the best day of his adult life. If he lived anywhere else, he would have needed to be driven down to the nearest hospital, but this was the X-Mansion (Another cheesy name Raven came up with, it was like she had this obsessive need to give nicknames to everything, he didn’t understand it at all). Charles had four doctorates and a master’s degree, and Hank was a certified medical genius. Needless to say, he was pretty comfortable just getting his cast off here. Besides, a hospital wouldn’t exactly have the dozens of acres of yard space that the school had, and Peter wanted nothing more than to head out into the grass and run until his legs gave out.
All the X-Men, plus Charles and Jubilee (who really ought to be given a spot on the team already, she was powerful enough, and she spent enough time with the team that it already felt like she was a part of the group), had gathered together in the clinic, or infirmary, or doctor’s office, or whatever the hell it was called, and Hank had this weird saw-looking thing that was slowly cutting Peter’s cast open, and it was taking all of Peter’s willpower to not laugh, ‘cause damn, that thing tickled.
“Now, it’s going to take some time for your leg to get back to normal. Your muscles will have atrophied a bit from lack of use.”
“I got no idea what that means,” Peter admitted, unable to keep himself from grinning.
“It means your leg will be a bit smaller and weaker than it was before it was broken. You’re going to need to train if you want it to return to what it used to be.”
“Ah, that’ll be easy.”
“Still, you’re going to have to take it slow at first.”
Yeah, right, Peter thought, and he didn’t even care if the Professor heard him, there was no way anyone was stopping him from bolting first thing out of the school and taking full advantage of that lawn. Peter needed to run like he needed oxygen.
When his cast was fully split open, Hank gently pulled it off Peter’s leg, and he swung his legs off of the bed, resting both feet firmly on the ground. He let out a little giggle, and stood up, albeit shakily. He had to hold on to Ororo’s shoulder briefly to get his balance back, but once he did, he rolled his shoulders and looked at everyone else. They were all smiling at him, even Scott, and he flashed them the widest grin he could.
But he refused to stay in that room and standing still any longer than he had to, and so he wiggled his eyebrows and announced, “Later, losers!”
Hank put out a hand and told Peter to wait, but before he could grab onto the back of Peter’s shirt, time slowed down, and Peter let his first foot step forward as his back foot lifted, and then he brought it forward, and it fell, and he repeated the steps, and then he was running, he was running, God Above, Peter missed running like nothing else, and he was down through the hallway before anyone would have been able to stop him, and then he came to the doorway to the school’s entrance, and as he flung the doors open and was about to run out onto the lawn, his second foot hooked behind his first and he lost balance. He was falling, and time sped back up to normal, and he went to stick his hands out to catch himself, but someone grabbed onto his bicep and kept him from crashing.
“Careful there,” warned Erik, a smirk tugging at one side of his mouth.
“Oh, shit, sorry,” Peter fumbled, pulling himself back up straight, and Erik let go of his arm. “Thanks for grabbing me.”
“Any time. Although you really shouldn’t be running right after getting your cast removed.”
“Dude, I have been stuck hobbling around for nearly a month. Now there are like a hundred or some acres of lawn out there, and I am dying to get a run in. Ain’t nobody is going to stop me.”
Erik’s smirk turned into a small smile of understanding, and he nodded slightly. “Well, who am I to say otherwise?”
Oh, nobody important, just my dad, my dad who is right here smiling at me and letting me go run, no big deal, nobody at all.
Peter couldn’t keep himself from grinning. “See ya,” he said, turning on his Walkman to The Ocean, and bolting out of the door. He ran on the lawn, his feet hitting the ground in time with John Bonham’s drumming, probably leaving streaks in the grass behind him, but he didn’t care, it had been almost a month, and he was finally running.
He ran laps around the house, and noticed that the X-Men, Jubilee, and Charles had all joined Erik in watching him from just outside the doors, as he whizzed past. In the middle of one lap, he gingerly slipped off Hank’s glasses and put them on Raven, and then he was off again. When he looped back around, Hank was trying to put his glasses back on and Raven had her middle finger out in the air for Peter to see, and he just cackled.
The song started to fade out, and Peter ran up to the roof of the mansion, slowing down and letting out a drawn-out whoop as Jimmy Page struck his final chord.
He looked down to see everyone staring up at him. Ororo had both of her thumbs up, Hank was shaking his head but still smiling, Raven had her tongue stuck out at him, and Erik’s face was stretched out in a smile so wide he looked like he might be part shark (if Erik was part shark, did that mean Peter was part shark too? Did he have some sort of distant shark ancestor that was in his DNA? Because that would be incredibly awesome). And yeah, getting his cast off felt like a million bucks. But that shark grin his dad was giving him? That was priceless.
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Now that Peter was officially cast-free, and now that Hank had determined him fit for proper X-Men training, it was time for their first real session in the Danger Room. Raven had even gotten them uniforms and everything for the occasion (seriously, could she get any more cheesy?). He had to admit, Kurt’s red accents were pretty damn cool, and Ororo’s cape was definitely badass, but Peter didn’t actually dislike his uniform.
Raven was facing all of them, and giving them some sort of speech about responsibility and growing up and whatever, but Peter wasn’t really paying attention to that. Like, at all. He was focused on the hallway outside the Danger Room, where Charles and Erik were talking, and Erik was in a nice suit and a turtleneck like he was going somewhere important, and Peter’s first thought was Oh God, what if he’s leaving, what if he leaves and I don’t see him for another 10 years, and what if he tries to destroy the world again and I’m too late to tell him, but he brushed it off, because that was crazy. Where would Erik go? There wasn’t anywhere but here where he could be with people like him, and people that loved him, and surely Erik wasn’t stupid enough to leave that behind, right?
But then Erik and Charles were shaking hands, and Erik was walking to the elevator, and Erik was opening the elevator, and Erik was getting into the elevator, and Peter’s stomach twisted into a knot and his mind started racing, and he tried to project his thoughts as loudly as he was able toward the Professor. Is he leaving, is he leaving, Charles, why are you letting him go, Professor, Charles, is he leaving, he can’t, I haven’t told him yet, please no, is he leaving?
And Charles replied with only one word. Go.
Peter looked towards Raven, and she smiled ever so slightly at him and nodded, and Peter took off, and it was killing him waiting for this stupid fucking elevator. If he missed his Dad because this elevator took too long coming down, Peter was going to make sure it never worked again, and there would be no way he would ever ride an elevator again in his life, no sirree.
When he got to the first floor, finally, he raced through the halls and towards the doorway, having to dodge God-knows-how-many students and pieces of furniture, and he flung the doors open with absolutely no regard to the hinges, because fuck the doors, he couldn’t let his dad leave.
Erik had the driver’s side door open, one foot in the car, when Peter shouted his dad’s name as loud as he could without screaming, and the “Erik!” exploded out of him like one of Jubilee’s fireworks.
Erik looked up so slowly that Peter felt like he was going to die, and his eyebrows were knit together in what Peter thought was confusion, and he blinked a couple times before he spoke, and the wait was killing Peter, why couldn’t Erik just say something.
“Peter?” He asked, and Peter couldn’t tell if he sounded confused or welcoming, maybe it’s both? Peter wasn’t sure.
And Peter couldn’t get the words out. His stomach felt like it was inside-out, and he wanted to vomit, but nothing was coming up, and he couldn’t stop staring at his dad, and he couldn’t make coherent sentences out of his thoughts, so he just blurted out whatever came to the front of his mouth first. “September 1956,” he said, and his voice felt so, so, small, he wanted to die, but he had to get this out or his dad was going to leave, “You were in Romania. You spent a week and a half with a woman named Magda Eisenhardt.”
Erik’s eyebrows stayed knitted together, but his mouth fell open ever so slightly. “How do you know that?”
Peter swallowed his fear, and fuck, was it hard to swallow, but he did it anyways. “Magda Eisenhardt is my mom. Well, she’s Magda Maximoff now, but that’s not really important… And…” God, he can’t fucking get it out, he can’t get it out, why the hell won’t he say it, he needs to say it. “I was born in June. 1957.”
Erik was quiet, so, so quiet, Peter didn’t even think he was breathing. His eyes felt like they were drilling holes into Peter’s skull, and Peter couldn’t stand the silence, so he let out the thing he had been wanting to say since he found out that day when his mom first saw Erik on TV.
“I’m your son,” he told Erik, and it was barely even a whisper, but he said it, and Erik was still just standing there and not saying anything, and even though Peter was no telepath, Erik was so quiet that it seemed like he wasn't thinking anything either, and he didn’t move an inch, he didn’t shake or blink or breathe, and Peter couldn’t fucking take the stillness, so he chuckled nervously and said, “Well, I’m going to go throw myself off a cliff now,” and he was off before he could hear Erik shout for him to wait.
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Raven was just in the middle of leading the kids through an exercise in the Danger Room, with Charles observing, when the door slid open, and there, back in the mansion, without Peter, was Erik Lehnsherr.
When he stepped into the room, Raven was the first one to speak. “I’m guessing he told you.”
“Yes, he-” Erik replied, before cutting himself off. “Hold on. You knew?”
She glanced around to all the kids, and Hank, and Charles, and decided it was better to not tell Erik that everyone here knew about his son before he did, and just rolled her eyes and smiled. “Yeah. I knew. Speaking of which, where is he?”
“He ran. I tried to get him to stop, but he’s too fast for me to catch.”
“Yeah, well, you’re gonna have to get used to that.”
“Charles,” Erik asked, turning to the Professor, “Can you find him?”
“I’m sure I can,” Charles replied, and motioned for everyone to come with him. They all followed him to Cerebro, and on the way, the Professor whispered something into Kurt’s ear, and the kid teleported away in a puff of blue smoke. When they reached Cerebro, Hank fitted the helmet snugly of Charles’ head.
“Peter,” he said, closing his eyes, “Can you come back to the school, please?”
Peter’s voice was small and shaky when it came through the machine, and Raven was pretty sure that was because of the kid himself and not Cerebro. “Sorry, Prof, no can do. I’m a little busy finding a cliff to hurl myself off of. It’s a lot harder in Westchester than you’d think.”
“Peter,“ the Professor said, putting particular emphasis on his name, “You’re being overdramatic.”
“Charles, overdramatic is my signature flavor.” Peter’s voice turned small again, and Raven was sure she had never heard the speedster so terrified. “Besides, you didn’t see the way he was looking at me.”
Raven took a glance over at Erik, and if there was ever an expression that was a mix between shame, offense, and pleading, then Erik was modelling it wonderfully.
Charles hesitated for a moment before speaking again, and Raven could tell he was looking at Erik too. “What did he say?”
“He didn’t say anything. He just stood there staring.”
“Peter, I’m sure he just didn’t know what to say.”
“And you think I did?”
“No. But you’ve had years to think about this, Peter, and he’s had minutes. Seconds, really.”
“I know,” Peter insisted, and god, he sounded so broken. “I know, I know, I know! Jesus fuck, I knew this wasn’t going to be easy, I know I need to give him time. I’m trying, Charles, but patience really isn’t my strong suit, and for once in my life, I just need someone to be going the speed I’m going!”
And then there was a loud POOF, and Kurt appeared in the room, holding on tightly to Peter’s arm, and as Charles slipped his helmet off, Peter scrambled up off the ground.
“What-” He started to say, but Erik stepped forward, placing both of his hands on either side of Peter’s face. He looked into Peter’s almost-black eyes, unblinking, and his son’s eyes were wide with terror, and Raven felt like an intruder on such an intimate moment.
“Peter,” Erik whispered, wrapping one arm around his son’s shoulders, the other cradling the back of Peter’s head like a child. He held his son in a tight embrace, and there was a long moment of silence, until Erik whispered “Peter” again, with finality this time. Erik had lost everything, yet here he was, with his adult son in his arms, Peter’s face pressed into his father’s chest.
“I’m sorry,” Peter said, his voice muffled through Erik’s clothes. He repeated it as his arms wrapped around his father’s ribcage, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“There’s no need,” Erik replied, his fingers absentmindedly combing through Peter’s silver hair. “If anyone should apologize, it’s me.”
“Don’t apologize, old man,” Peter insisted, and Raven could tell his voice was thick with tears.
Erik just laughed at that, though Raven noted the thin streams of tears that shone on his cheeks as well. “Is that still your version of equality? Or am I your old man now?”
“No, that would make you my dad.”
Erik’s eyes widened at that. “Am I not?”
“Dad and Father are different,” Peter explained. “You’ll always be my father. But I know you want to leave, and… I don’t expect you to be my dad if that’s not what you need.”
Erik pulled Peter away from his chest and looked him square in the eyes. “Peter.”
“Erik.”
“You’re my son.”
“I’m aware.”
“Peter, I’m not going anywhere.”
Peter looked at his father, his dad, for a good long while, not blinking, not moving, not speaking, and Raven knew that Peter knew that for once, someone was going the speed that Peter was going. And he flung his arms around Erik’s neck, and screwed his eyes shut, and he hugged his father for as long as he could.
“Scott Summers,” he declared, still hugging Erik, still closing his eyes, “If you tell anybody that I cried, ever, so help me, I will sew your big mouth shut.”