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*** Peter slouches in his chair, arms folded, unimpressed by this intervention. The pretence of authority the senior X-Men demonstrate might be working on Dario, sitting in the chair adjacent to him. But Peter knows them better than the average student. He’s seen Hank in a strop after an experimental serum turned his fur green for a week. He’s seen Raven throw a tantrum after being double-crossed by a contact. And, of course, he’s seen Charles punch Erik in the face. “Do we have a problem, boys?” “They’re just harmless pranks, Professor,” Dario protests, a picture of earnestness. There’s no reason for the X-Men to disbelieve this. A trivial prank war is certainly what the situation looks like from the outside, mainly because everyone in the mansion assumes the banter between them is friendly. And their war has appeared to be benign. Peter, stashing Dario’s textbooks at the top of the tallest tree. Dario, cuffing Peter’s ankles together, right before he runs. Peter, dying all of Dario’s clothes hot pink. Dario, dumping a stock pot of chilled beetroot borscht over Peter, who retaliated by throwing a custard cream pie in his face. But this is the first time their ‘pranks’ have caused collateral damage to another student. Hence, this intervention. Peter’s going to stage his own intervention. Even Charles is unaware of their true motives. Dario’s always mirroring the Professor’s telepathy to shield his own thoughts, and Peter’s speed makes his mind difficult to read; Charles won’t do more than skim his surface thoughts without permission. “I already apologised to Jean,” Peter says, sullenly. Then, pointedly asks, “did Dario?” “Yes,” Dario retorts, because he’s a liar. “Even though it wasn’t my fault.” Peter says nothing. He doesn’t need to, when they’re all going to dig their own non-literal graves. Hank starts, preaching about safe practises in communal spaces; then Raven monologues about the importance of taking responsibility for one’s mistakes. Dario nods along, still kissing ass. “Punishments tailored to suit the crime.” Which is his way of saying Peter should be punished, since Dario is blameless in all this. “So, I’m being expelled,” Peter exaggerates glibly. Charles sighs. “No.” Raven is less gracious. “If you’re not taking this seriously, maybe that’s a conversation we’ll have to have with your parents.” This is a realistic possibility, because – unlike most of the other students – they actually have supportive family members, outside of the school. Dario’s father, a wealthy humanitarian, is happy to cultivate a positive relationship with Charles and Raven, to aid his philanthropic work. Of course, Charles and Hank have previously met Peter’s mother, when they met him. She’s understanding of Peter’s… everything. But Magda isn’t the parent Peter plans to involve in this. So, he’s honest. “None of you are capable of having an insult-free conversation with my parent.” “I’ve never insulted your family,” Dario is quick to deny, having no idea how oh so very wrong he is. “Some of us have more class than that.” He does this a lot, brag about his family’s wealth. Joke’s on him though. “I don’t need class,” Peter says nonchalantly. “I have a different sort of trust fund. My father has an extensive gold bullion collection.” This statement garners surprise, since this is the first time any of them is hearing about him having a father. Peter’s going to enjoy this. “Bullion?” Dario echoes, skeptical. His contrite façade wavers. “Forget a collection; you wouldn’t know what to do with one ingot.” He responds swiftly. “Throw it like a brick, at your face.” “That’s enough, please,” Charles says mildly, without a hint of telepathic pressure behind it, but they both fall silent anyway. “Now. I’d rather have you two resolve this yourselves. But if you’re going to be difficult, then perhaps we should involve your parents.” Dario bristles. “My father’s busy with his charity circuit.” But Peter couldn’t have asked for a better set up than this. He smirks. “My father’s available.” And conveniently close by, given Peter had already arranged to see him later. “Let me fetch him, right now.” Then, before anyone can respond, he follows through. *** From their perspective, Peter’s only gone for about five seconds. *** He returns, Erik in tow, and watches their realisations play out in slow motion. Incomprehension, becoming understanding; then the full gambit of shock; denial; dread; even, in some cases, grief. But most of all, helplessness against the impending doom. Fucking awesome. Relishing the expressions on their faces, Peter says, “you all know my father, of course.” Erik makes no attempt to pretend his measured calm is anything but a veneer, as he makes his assessment. “The situation must be serious, to warrant my presence.” Peter dramatically throws himself back into his chair, smirk still firmly in place. “They want to talk consequences, after Jean was struck with friendly fire.” It’s so satisfying, to watch the colour drain from their faces. Especially Dario, who doesn’t even know why this remark prompts the metal paperweight on the desk to crumple beneath invisible pressure. Erik’s hand settles on the back of Peter’s chair. “Was she hurt?” “She was upset.” He explains how Dario had fired paint bullets at him; when Peter had deflected them, they’d exploded in midair before splattering the walls with paint. The one which detonated all over Jean hadn’t actually hit her. “Luckily, she wasn’t injured.” He meets Charles’s gaze. “If she had been, I imagine my punishment would’ve been far more extreme than this intervention.” Silently, he adds, ‘a decade of solitary confinement and torture, maybe?’ Charles frowns. His gaze shifts to Erik, who doesn’t acknowledge this, his attention on Dario. “Peter has told me plenty about you already.” Erik tilts his head slightly. “Do we have a problem?” “I’m not scared of you, Magneto.” Yeah, he is. Peter discloses, “he thinks he can kill you. He said he was going to mirror my speed and not protect you from whiplash. Break your bones. Splatter you across a wall. That sort of thing.” “Oh, really?” The senior staff are quiet; probably trying to comprehend such stupidity. But their silence only emboldens Dario’s idiocy further. “Someone has to teach you a lesson in humility.” “Education is important,” Erik agrees. He grins, with all his teeth, deliberately antagonistic. “Try me.” Dario rises from his chair – “Out.” This time, Charles does use psychic pressure, just enough to make everyone feel the threat. “Now, Dario. You can report to Raven tomorrow, for your duty roster.” Begrudgingly, Dario relents. “Yes, Professor.” “Go cry to the rest of our classmates about how mean me and my dad were to you,” Peter needles him, already confident the entire school will know he’s Magneto’s son before the day’s over, one way or the other. Dario snarls wordlessly at him, then stalks out of the room, slamming the door. The ensuing silence lingers between the rest of them for several minutes. Neither Erik nor Peter says anything, so Raven speaks up. “You could’ve told us he was your father, you know.” “No,” Peter refutes wryly. “I really couldn’t have.” He gets to his feet. “You think I trusted any of you with that information?” At least they all have the decency to look guilty. Shoulders hunched, Hank cautiously infers, “if you still feel that way… why tell us?” “Because I’m leaving. I’m joining his Brotherhood.” It’s fun, watching them flounder, speechless at him. Charles is also having a crisis of concern, clearly worried about whether Peter’s decision has been prompted by something specific. It’s nice that he cares. Erik’s frowning, definitely thinking along the same lines. “You didn’t need me for this,” he says quietly. Which is technically true; Peter can handle himself. “Did something happen?” Peter scowls. “Did you miss the part where Dario wants you dead?” Erik takes a moment to understand that this is reason enough for Peter. “Okay.” He wraps an arm around Peter, easing him into a side hug. Peter hugs back tightly. Erik addresses Charles. “I’m leaving, with my son.” He pauses. “Will Peter still be welcome here, after this?” “Yes,” Charles insists, firmly. Then, more hesitantly, he adds, “perhaps you and I can meet again next week? Discuss this further?” After a long pause, Erik agrees. Peter smirks. Good. With Charles now talking to his father again, maybe Peter will gain an ally in his efforts to help Erik believe he’s worth the love his family have for him. ***