My G/t Blog

Simon continued to back away from Grace's hand, his body tense with those fins sticking straight up. His tail swished before stilling and curling in between his legs. Grace still couldn’t really tell what Simon was saying, but he looked pale and terribly shaky on his legs.

“Hey… I’m alright- Armando just gave me a little pinch; it's all I needed to keep my everything still working.”

Grace didn’t know why he was dumbing it down for Simon; it felt like an instinctive response to something so awfully small, looking so afraid. It reminded Grace of his pebbles back in his classroom. 

Simon just continued to back away, and now those little brown orbs stared up at him. The photophores on his face glowed and flickered their bright shade of off-white.

"You’re… se dēofol…” 

Just when Grace thought things couldn’t get worse, Simon bared his teeth at him now. The word at the end of Simon's sentence clicked in Grace's mind. That sounded way too close to his word for Devil, and he didn’t like the connotations of that, especially given he was just calling Grace an Angel not too long ago. 

Had him bleeding clicked something in Simon's mind?? Either way, Grace felt like he had to clear it up before things got worse. Especially given that Armando was already preparing what looked to be another dose of something for the acute radiation poisoning he was undergoing right now. Speaking of, that headache was truly starting to eat at Grace's mind. He felt nauseous too. What an awful mix of circumstances. 

“Alright, first of all, no. Not a devil,” 

He turned to Armando and looked at the robot, its other ‘hand’ now holding the prepared syringe. He stuck his arm out to the robot, not looking at it as he focused on Simon. Who now had gone from looking downright terrified to pissed. His sharp teeth were still bared at him. He really did not want to get bitten again; he pulled his other hand off the table completely now. 

“Second of all. You just spoke English, proper English.” 

Grace hadn’t missed it, and he was certain he wasn’t making it up either. The little guy could speak more proper English than what he was currently doing. He was understanding and comprehending Grace in a way that only someone could do if they had a baseline understanding of the language. 

He didn’t doubt that Simon could have picked up proper English from wherever he originated, but it still raised too many questions for Grace not to point out. 

That seemed to get a reaction out of the little man on his table. His face was paling even more as he now backed away a few steps. His back was bumping into the pillow because of the distance he had put between himself and Grace. 

Shoot. Was his tone too rough? He really hadn’t meant to scare him that badly. He felt himself take in a sharp inhale of breath as he felt the second needle stab into his wrist. Armando was usually careful about not hitting the same spot twice, but the extra stimuli clearing was not helping the robot with keeping a steady needle. 

Simon's chest shuddered as he took in shaky breaths, those gills on the side of his neck flaring as he did so. His expression was… Complicated. It was obvious to anyone who looked at him that he was scared, maybe even petrified. However, underlying all of that, he did seem genuinely angry. At what, Grace didn’t know. Being called out? So far, he hadn’t said anything, so Grace was beginning to think he grilled him for no reason. He internally berated himself for once again jumping the gun and getting frustrated with the little man.

“...I’m sorry. It just sounded-” 

“...Shut. ūp.” Grace's sentence stopped entirely when Simon had spoken. His accent was still terribly thick, and if Grace wasn’t intentionally listening for it, he may have missed it due to how softly he spoke.

He spoke with his teeth gritted together, Simon's hands now gripping the pillow behind him as he stared up at Grace. Those little claws now clutching the pillow so tightly Grace could’ve sworn he saw stuffing coming out. 

“You! You speak English!” His voice peaked once more before he could catch it. He was right! He was hiding something!

He pulled his other hand away from Armando, now pointing an accusatory finger at Simon. He knew it! He understood Grace too well and too fluently to not! So why was he speaking Old English?? Was it just to deter Grace from understanding him? 

When Grace pointed a finger at Simon, he hadn’t really thought about how the little man's body was clearly coiled tight like a spring ready to burst. His teeth were still gritted together, and he snapped his teeth in the general direction of Grace's finger. Making him jerk back. Noted. No touching

Simon pulled his head back after snapping his teeth. A small “Ne.” fell from his lips before he looked back at the table. Almost nervous.

Grace pulled his hand back and winced as pain shot through it again. He rested it on the table a little bit away from Simon. He purposefully made his voice softer; he was getting too loud, and honestly, at this point, he was just starting to feel frustrated. Both at himself, and at Simon.

The little man wasn’t making it easy to communicate with him, and he wasn’t eating. Grace was also trying exceptionally hard to be kind to him; he didn't understand why he was still hiding things and not talking to him. On top of all of those circumstances, Grace was running on about six hours of sleep and was beginning to feel nauseous from the radiation medicine he was given. 

He took a deep breath before continuing, taking off his glasses too to rub at the bridge of his nose. Annoyed. “Alright. You don’t speak English, sure. But you understand me, right?” 

Simon's expression was still guarded, but it was clear he understood him because of how his body untensed. His shoulders were drooping a little as Grace's tone was no longer as hostile as before. 

He licked his lips, preparing himself and forcing himself to speak. “...Englisc is.. Hard.” His voice wavered at the end, as if he were trying his hardest to convince Grace he wasn't lying.

All Grace could think was, Hard?? How could English be hard for someone like Simon? He clearly had all the necessary vocal cords for it; he wasn’t like Rocky. Grace's hand twitched, oh how he wished he could write this down. He didn’t want to scare Simon back into silence, so he hesitated and waited for him to continue.

When he didn’t speak for a good few moments, Grace decided to push him in the right direction of answering; he was a scientist at heart after all. 

“Hard?...” He continued, his hands falling from his face to grab for his pen on top of his notepad. If he could just write some of this down, it may be easier to remember for later…

Simon nodded and only briefly glanced at his hand, now unclenching his fists from where they gripped the pillow to motion with his own hands. His claws left little punctures in the pillow that Grace was definitely going to have to fix later. He really needed to learn how to sew for Simon's sake; those little claws were going to be the death of him.

“Gēse. Hard. min hals… Hm. Different.” He took a small, hesitant step closer so Grace could see better. The little man's tail nervously swished behind him all the while.

His hand now pressed flat to his neck. Tapping a few times to really get the point across. His neck was somehow different and was causing him discomfort. Odd.

Grace clicked his tongue and leaned closer, not even thinking about it until he saw Simon's chest stuttering again as he took two strides back. Shoot.

Grace continued with what he wanted to say regardless. "Your throat is different? Were you not born with it like that?" He tilted his head and idly tapped his pen, his tone far off as he kept himself from drifting into his own thoughts.

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say, as Simon's body tensed back up as his brows furrowed and he walked away from Grace. Visibly upset.He thwached his tail on the table as he turned his back on Grace, rude. Grace was truly starting to get a headache from how flippant he could be, and he had only just met him!

"forþæm þu ne understandest. deofol." He spat out as he seemed to be looking for something, the balls on this guy, honestly!

Grace felt his impatience mounting as Armando came back with another needle, enough. He was having enough of the attitude, and he was getting frustrated that Simon could clearly talk to him and wasn't doing it!

"Fine!" He shouted, swatting Armando's needle away before grabbing it himself. Intending on administering it himself after he calmed down. His arm went up in the air in frustration without thinking.

He failed notice how Simon's body quickly whipped back around as he staggered backward. His knees almost giving out entirely.

"You don't want help, that's fine! I didn't want to connect with you anyway and know what was going on. I didn't patch you up or anything. Nope!" He swiveled in his chair, now turning his own back to Simon as he pulled up his sleeve to give himself his medicine. This radiation was truly starting to hurt like a bitch…

He knew he was being immature, but gosh darn it he was frustrated!

As the needle went into his skin, his mind wandered. He bit his lips to stifle any unnecessary grumblings. He had already overreacted and knew he was going to have to apologize, figures. He was always pushed to a reaction and always had to apologize for it. Never the other way around.

The medicine only made the burning in his hand slightly better. Seriously, what type of radiation was on that sub??

Whatever metal Simon was encased in must have had to be strong to stifle off any… Radiation…

…

Oh god. It wasn't. Grace had broken into it with a stark amount of ease. Simon was enduring concerning amounts of Radiation for God knows how long if he was consistently using it. No wonder he couldn't speak properly; he was surprised he could speak at all!

The meekest of whispers came from behind Grace, right when he thought his guilt couldn't eat at him anymore. "…mīn gratiæ?" He sounded shaky and unsure, and alarmingly close to Grace's back.

As quickly as he could manage, he took the needle out of his arm and swivelled back around. Eyes wide as saucers as he went to haphazardly set the needle down on the counter.

What he saw made his stomach do flips, and he felt like he could be sick all over again.

There Simon stood, well, partially. He was kneeling, and his hands were clasped together. Those tiny hands that Grace could now see the same speckles of red underneath the skin. The same affliction as Grace, and he'd missed it entirely. Too swept up in his wonderment and now annoyance to notice.

"ic eom sēriġe for… Sorry. For. Misfaith-.." His voice was choppy as Simon cut himself off when he slipped back into that Old English again. Forcing himself to speak proper English only made him retch into his palm before quickly clasping it back together. He didn't even care that he was retching up his own blood. Much too concerned with consoling Grace of all people.

Grace felt like a grade-A asshole.

He didn't need to think twice about his next actions; he turned to Armando and spoke with urgency. "Run a calculation on how much Simon weighs. He needs medicine. The same as mine, if not stronger-…"

His hands almost immediately jutted out to scoop up Simon and bring him closer to Armando's station. He felt like he could be sick from how he came up from his kneeling and scrambled back.

"bidde! ic wille libban!- ic!-…" Grace felt his fingertips bump into Simon's back as he scooped him, not even thinking about how Simon's arms flew over his head to protect himself, as if he expected a blow from above.

He could worry about his mental state later; currently, he needed medication, and he needed it now.

He hushed him quietly, "Shh.. I'm not mad-… God, I'm so sorry-" His words were low as he gently pet Simon's arm with his thumb. Only drawing pathetic whimpers from the man.

Armando extended one of his arms, reaching for Simon, who was now almost entirely curled up inside of Grace's cupped palms. Grace pulled back. "A scale, Armando! What are you?…" While Grace's voice sounded unsure, Armando just shook his arm in the air. The little claw covered in silicone was clenching and unclenching.

"Place the object inside the weight measurer. Will measure the volume and-…" Grace almost short-circuited at the phrasing of 'the object'.

He supposed it made sense, to Armando, Simon wasn't registered as a person at all. He was so small that the robot probably even struggled to register him as a small animal at times; he wasn't built with the thought of having animals on the Hail Mary after all.

It still made Grace's blood boil slightly, especially as he felt Simon's little shaking form in his palms. His breathing was coming in terribly short bursts, and he was surprised the little guy wasn't passed out.

"Armando, override. Patient name: Simon. You are weighing Simon." He didn't hand Simon over to Armando yet; he knew this was probably the quickest way to weigh him, but it still felt wrong.

His voice was soft and gentle as he carefully brought Simon to his face, trying to get a better look, but the small man was curled up terribly tight with his knees to his chest. He was still muttering to himself. "Ic wille libban… Ic wille libban… Bidde… Bidde gratiē. engell…" His little tail was even curled around his knees.

"Affirmative. Patient Simon is to be weighed." Armando once more went to reach for him, and Grace hesitantly let him this time. Armando's silicone clasp wrapped around Simon's middle as the man let out another whimper that stabbed Grace right through the heart.

Armando lifted Simon, but before Simon could get fully out of Grace's hands, he did something he did not expect. He reached for his thumb, grappling onto it with his hands before being entirely handed off to Armando. Clinging to him. Those little claws poked into Grace's skin as Armando froze, not tugging on Simon.

"bid!-.. I can-t.. Don't. ne sende þū mē eft." His voice was now almost raw as he spoke through the blood gurgling in the back of his throat, and Grace felt his resolve shatter entirely. It didn't help either Simon sounded close to breaking down into sobs.

He practically yanked Simon back from Armando, gathering him up in his palms. The weight settled in the middle of his palm as Simon scrambled back into them this time. No longer curled up, he grabbed for Grace's thumb again and curled around it.

Grace could now feel his rapid heartbeat against his thumbpad. He could feel the way his chest was stuttering, and could make out the way his lungs struggled with taking in deep breaths. How long had Simon been in pain? How long had Grace ignored it or not even seen it?

He never took an X-ray of Simon, much too nervous about the radiation on his small body. Whoever sent him in that sub clearly did not have the same reservations as Grace, and it made him feel nauseous; and it wasn't from the medicine he was on this time around.

Armando's hand wavered in the air as Simon clutched Grace's thumb, shivering as he heard the mechanical whirring. Grace brought the smaller man to his chest before sitting back at the table.

"Armando, get a small counting scale, please. As well as a pipette and a liquid form of Vitamin E." He gently uncurled his hand and moved to set Simon down on the table, but he wasn't letting go anytime soon, it seemed. Not that Grace particularly minded.

Simon looked like he was about to pass out; his face was pale, and his little head kept bobbing down before shooting back up to scan his surroundings. He was clearly exhausted.

It would be much easier to weigh and get the proper medicine in Simon if he were asleep, but if he were asleep, he may very well lose all trust in Grace if he woke up to a needle in him…

"…gratiæ?" Simon's voice cut through his thoughts as he looked back down at the smaller man. His eyes softened as he saw the way his arms were slowly uncurling from his thumb. "Eart þu mann? neþe an engel?"

He spoke with his raspy voice, and again Grace wished he had his laptop so he could understand Simon. He sounded absolutely defeated. As if his very spirit was sucked out of him.

Grace hated to say it, but he preferred when Simon was lashing out at him and biting his fingers to this. He seemed absolutely exhausted and terrified, and Grace knew it was partially his fault.

He gathered Simon back up in his hand as he saw Armando whirring over with the tools he had requested; he didn't even feel Simon struggling. He spoke as softly as he could manage, biting his lip to fight back his own sadness and tears. This was about Simon.

He gently pressed his thumb to Simon's chest again, feeling those little hands gripping it as he spoke and pet his back with his other fingers. "…M'gonna get you fixed up, Simon, I promise. Then you can talk all you want, and I'll know what to say back, for now, though. Just relax.."

Simon didn't make any noises, and for a good few moments, the only noise in the lab was the faint whirring of Armando's arms as he set down the tools before backing away.

Grace was starting to get worried when he felt the rise and fall of Simon's chest getting slower. "…Simon?" He pulled his hand back away from his chest to peer down at him.

Much to Grace's relief, his eyes were closed, and he appeared to have fallen asleep. Good… He needed the rest, and Grace needed him still so he could get him properly treated.

Grace pulled Simon's pillow closer before depositing him onto it. When he went to pull his hand away, Simon's arms wouldn't unwrapt from his thumb. Matter of fact, he seemed to just grip him tighter when he tried to pull it back again.

It’s been an hour and a half, and you still cannot get your brain to shut down and fall asleep. You’ve been tossing and turning in bed, trying every position you can possibly think of in the hopes that one of them will be comfortable enough to knock you out. None of them have, and you’re finally at your wits’ end when you hear the telltale thumping of your giant friend’s footsteps. You watch him approach, his eyes locked onto you with amusement.

“I thought you were taking a nap?”

“…I can’t sleep,” you admit.

You watch him bend down to meet you at eye level, folding his arms at the edge of the table your bed sits on and resting his chin on them.

“Hmm, and why do you think that is?” he asks with a glint in his eyes, as if he already knows exactly why you can’t sleep.

You look away in defeat. You’d wanted to see if you could give him a break from holding you all the time, to finally use the bed he’d painstakingly made for you, but your efforts to fall asleep without him have been fruitless.

“I told you it wasn’t going to work.”

You huff in frustration, but it doesn’t last long as his hand reaches toward you, his index extending outward to brush over the top of your head, trailing down the side of your face before tilting your chin up toward him. You feel weak in the knees under his warm gaze.

“I know you think you bother me, but might I remind you that you’re only three and a half inches tall and barely fit in the palm of my hand? It’s really not that hard to take care of you.”

You find yourself cowed as he so intently reminds you of your size difference, looking down meekly when he pulls his hand back and hiding under your blanket. You hear him laugh softly.

“You’re such a dork, c’mere…”

You gasp when you feel his hand gently wrap around you, scooping you up in your blanket and lifting you to his chest.

“You keep focusing on how you think I feel, but you’re not taking the time to consider how I actually feel about this. You’re not a burden, and you need to stop treating yourself like one,” he gently scolds as he tucks you close to him, his thumb stroking over the little bundle in his hands as you continue to hide beneath your blanket.

He slowly walks from the bedroom to the living room, and you feel a moment of vertigo as he lowers himself onto the couch. You feel your weight now resting on his chest as he cuddles you close, holding you over his heart. His chest vibrates deeply as he speaks.

“Now then, do you know how I feel when I get to hold you like this all the time?”

You peek out of the blanket just enough to see his eyes watching you with warmth and love. He smiles as he sees you, and he carefully pulls the blanket back just enough to see you a little bit more. He strokes his thumb across the side of your face.

“I feel whole,” he starts with a smile. “I love holding you. I love the way you perfectly fit in one of my hands, or how small you look when you’re sleeping on my chest. I can’t get enough of it, and it worries me that you think holding you bothers me.”

You hide back under the blanket, feeling embarrassed that you had your thoughts on how he saw your relationship so blatantly incorrect. He takes a deep breath, continuing to idly stroke you as he talks quietly.

“Do you remember the first time we met, and how terrified you were?” he asks fondly.

You nod your head in response.

“Every time I hold you now, it’s a reminder of just how much you trust me, and how honored I am that I’ve earned that trust.”

You think back to that day yourself, having been cornered after what was by far the worst day of your life. You thought that once he found you, that was going to be the end, only to instead be treated not like a thing or a pest, but like the tiny person you are. You were carefully calmed down, scooped off of the floor, cradled in their hands, and he began to slowly coax you out of your survival mindset. Once you learned to trust him, you found out very quickly just how soothing it can be to be held by someone so many times bigger than you when you know you’re safe with them.

Just as you had then, you start to feel sleepy as his warmth surrounds you. His heart beating right beneath his chest lulls you into a state of deep calm. You curl inward, letting his massive hands cradle you as you snuggle up in your blanket, feeling his fingers gently tighten around you, making sure you feel protected and secure.

“I promise you, if you can’t sleep without me, then I’ll make sure you never have to. You just relax and let me take care of you.”

You feel his thumb move, sharply inhaling when you feel it gently resting on the side of your face. He carefully holds your head down, making sure you’re hearing his heartbeat loud and clear. You yawn as you soak in his attention and affection, and soon enough, you find yourself drifting off, feeling less guilty and more satisfied knowing that him holding you brings him so much joy and fulfillment.

Lowell to the rescue!

Things were quiet in the metallic castle Bobby and Pietro were now residing in on the island of Genosha. Too quiet? Possibly. But quiet meant peaceful, right? Bobby could only hope. All of the Magnus family under one roof felt like a recipe for disaster but things had been shockingly amicable thus far. Bobby knew Pietro had been holding his tongue however. He was aware of what it meant for them to have this place together. Somewhere safe. He was going to try and keep it that way as long as he could, but what was the cost of keeping the fragile bearings of a shaky foundation to knowing the truth? 

One thing that had been bothering Bobby was hearing no word of any kind of transportation for the anti-mutant terrorists they had taken prisoner on their ship to get there. Surely Magneto would have wanted to deal with the problem promptly and not keep them on the island that was meant to be a safe haven for mutantkind, but it had been 2 weeks already since their arrival. Was bringing it up worth the risk of that peace they had so sought after?... Bobby wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. The burden of them taking the lives of the other terrorists on that ship was already weighing down on him, even if they were acting in self-defense. Could he deal with more lives at stake? Even if they were terrible bigots? He thought of his parents and if he felt they deserved the same fate or not…

Bobby opened the door to their bedroom and saw Pietro standing out on the wide balcony, shrouded in the bright moonlight, his silver hair illuminated even more in contrast to the night. He joined him outside and wrapped his arms around the taller boy's waist and chest, bringing him into an embrace from behind as he kissed his cheek softly as a greeting.

Pietro sighed and Bobby could feel his body relax at his touch, “Hey, Bobby…”

“Hey, beautiful,” Bobby cooed, “Your hair looks like starlight, you know?”

Pietro laughed but blushed, “You're always so corny!”

“But it works, doesn't it?” he said with a cheeky smirk.

Pietro shoved him away playfully. This was the peace he wanted so badly to keep. Bobby laughed but with each passing thought, his smile faded away. He gazed quietly out onto the skyline from the balcony, stories above everything else. Pietro’s smile also faded.

“What’s wrong?”

Bobby was never one to be dishonest.

“It’s about the prisoners…” Pietro tensed, “I just thought your dad might have taken care of that by now, but I haven’t heard anything about them being shipped back to where they came from since.”

Pietro was a bit pale as he clenched his jaw and turned away from Bobby, “He did take care of that… The moment we handed them over to him.”

Bobby also paled, “You mean he… Pietro, did you know about this? The whole time?

Pietro sighed, “I didn’t know… for sure… but I had always assumed.” “You mean you knew he would do that since before we handed them over to him?! And you just let us hand them over to the slaughter?!”

Pietro bristled suddenly, “Do you really think it makes much of a difference after what we did to the rest of those terrorists?! What I had to do to them?! It was just extending the inevitable and they chose their fate getting involved!”

There was a pause and Pietro continued, “It’s not as hard for you when you weren’t the one who had to get their hands dirty…” “I understand that we didn’t have much of a choice then, but we had a choice when we had those survivors–”

“Did we? We went to Magneto island where Magneto is in charge and he has a zero tolerance for bigots who want to kill Magneto’s people. I think the choice was already made for us.”

“... You should have told me…”

“Again, what difference would it have made?... We both chose to keep our heads down.”

Pietro shivered suddenly. Bobby wasn’t sure if it was a natural chill, the tension in the air, or his own creeping angry aura manifesting. Maybe an accumulation of all three.

“Well, I’m not keeping my head down now. Taking their lives was wrong to do.”

“So am I wrong now too? For choosing to act when you were almost killed?! You even agreed at the time that it was our only option other than dying. Will you condemn me too?

Bobby spoke coldly, “So you’re gonna defend Magneto?”

“We did what had to be done.” “... You even sound like him…”

And just like that, the peace was gone. Bobby bit his tongue, but it was too late.

Pietro was someone who could think a million thoughts a second and retort whatever comeback in an instant, and yet, he was rendered speechless. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came. He vibrated in place momentarily where Bobby could hardly see him before his eyes and the next time he blinked he was storming out of the bedroom, already several feet taller. The door slammed behind him.

Bobby closed his eyes with a heavy sigh and put his hands up to his face. The balcony decorating itself in frozen fractals within his vicinity.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — 

Pietro was too livid to use his super speed and this fact only exasperated him more. He hadn’t figured out yet if he was able to use both powers at the same time, but his size shifting tended to take over more when he got too emotional, much to his chagrin, and the emotion he was feeling now was ANGER. Angry at what Bobby said. Angry about the situation at hand. Angry about how he could be… right? No! He wouldn’t accept it! Couldn’t! His frustration manifested into several more feet accumulating to his height. Thankfully the castle had high ceilings, but he was wanting to remove himself from it ASAP. He needed air. Away from the castle. Away from… everything.

But there was no escape from everything. They were on an island after all, and a small one at that. Both his powers only dwarfed it more; he just had to pick a poison: run the entire perimeter several times in a few seconds, or be tall enough to see the shoreline on every side. Either way, he was encumbered by a watery mass. He could run over the ocean, but the spaces in between land were too far in between; even with his speed, it was easy to get lost without a compass.

He had to face it with what he had at the moment, which was being roughly 12ft and pisssed off. He worked his way down all the many stairs due to not wanting to risk the elevator, but it only gave him more time to ruminate the conversation in his head and replay it a thousand times over already. His mind raced through the five stages of grief within seconds and then got stuck on loop. 

Outside. Finally. It took much longer than he would have liked. Although his giant form, unable to go at the speeds he originally could, was still faster than someone smaller was. He paced through the garden and found a somewhat more isolated spot on the outskirts of the castle, secluded by more metal walls and art pieces. There really was no escaping that they were in Magneto’s realm. Even outside. His metallic touch was practically rooted throughout the whole island and Pietro willingly went right into it. 

Was he defending him? Maybe. Why was he always making excuses for him? He didn’t deserve it. Did he? How was it that he felt right where he started again?... Was he also just as malleable to his father as the metal he bends to his will? Had trying to keep the peace only warped his mind further into falling back into old patterns? He’d like to think his father was maybe different now and why they could live together, though it didn’t change what he had done before, he was apparently willing to give things a chance if it meant he and Bobby could be safe. And now he’s faced with the worst possible outcome… Being compared to his father.

WHA-TANG!

Pietro’s fist slammed into the metal wall, bending it out of shape.

His breathing was shaky as he left his giant fist imprinted into the alloy before retracting it and shaking his hand. He still wasn’t quite big enough to have that not hurt as much…

Before he could start regretting it, almost as if he willed it, the metal suddenly reformed back into shape, as if never being struck! For a moment he questions his own capabilities before reaching the more reasonable conclusion: someone else in the family. It could have been one of two options, and he wasn’t sure which was worse: his father or his annoying younger half-sister. Although dealing with Lorna would be bothersome, dealing with his father would be–

“Trouble in paradise?” his father asked candidly, descending down from above.

He stayed at eye level with him hovering in the air. Pietro, never wanting to show his more extreme emotions in front of his father, straightened himself up instinctively and stuttered out,

“F-Forgive me, sir! I was… out of line…” He immediately cringed at himself. Like a trained dog that remembers its master.

“At ease, Pietro. What perturbs you? You can talk to me.”

Unsure of how to answer this loaded question, Pietro hesitated, “Can I talk to you?...”

“Yes, my son. I know things have been… strained between us before, but with us united now as a family, I would like our relationship to be… better. For the good of our people, if nothing else.”

Was it a good answer? Not really. Was it enough to make Pietro let his guard down enough in a moment of weakness?

“It’s just… Bobby and…” he hesitated again, “Questions of morality…”

“I see…”, Magneto puzzled. Was his father actually going to bother giving him advice on relationship troubles? It seemed so trivial for someone like him. 

He continued on with a distant look in his eyes, “Charles and I also had… similar troubles…”

“Do you mean… relationship problems or questions of morality?”

“Both.”

Pietro paused, “... Do you actually mean you guys were also in a similar relationship or…?”

“Yes.”

Pietro was stunned by the blunt answer but also somehow not shocked by this. Thinking back on what he knew of either of the two men, it all kind of clicked into place, and once again he was rendered speechless. His dad had many sins but at least being homophobic wasn’t one of them! Although he couldn’t help but feel a little disgusted picturing the two of them being intimate as his father and mentor. His face flushed. He’s glad he didn’t get to witness it.

“O-Oh, so… How did you guys work that out?...”

“We didn’t.” Magneto said flatly.

“Oh…” Pietro felt his soul crushing underneath the sentiment of him and Bobby also potentially falling apart. He gulped and steered the conversation back to his other dilemma, hoping he wouldn’t regret bringing it up, “W-Well, the problem was about the prisoners… The ones we brought from the ship?...”

Magneto went silent and tipped his chin upward, “What about them?”

“... Did… Did you kill them?”

He paused for a moment too long, probably also hoping he wouldn’t regret it, “Yes.”

Pietro heaved a heavy sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. The answer wasn’t a shock, but part of him was wishing it wasn’t the case, “I thought so…”

“And Bobby didn’t… I presume?”

“No. He didn’t…”

Magneto inhales deeply into his nose and exhales, “I suppose that could be expected… I also assume he didn’t take this well?”

“No, but… I don’t want this to come between us. I just… don’t know what to do or say… And now it seems like he’s mad about me taking out that ship of terrorists as well, and… I just don’t know if I did the right thing.”

His father rested an assured hand on his large shoulder and looked directly into his eyes. He stated very directly, “We did what had to be done.”

Pietro could have screamed at hearing those words repeated back at him. Like a damning echo that could tear him asunder. Bobby was right, he thought, and he could hardly bear to live with the truth of the matter. It felt like he was cracking in two, but instead he grew several more feet.

Magneto took note of his son's slight growth spurt and gave him a bit more space but continued, “We can't change what's been done. Only live with the decisions we've made.” He paused thoughtfully, “Do you love this boy?”

Pietro snapped back to reality at the question and stammered out, “Y-Yes! More… More than anything!...” He looked away sadly as his sentence tapered off. This vulnerability was killing him. Yet he felt compelled to continue, even in front of his father.

Magneto's expression softened more than Pietro had ever recalled seeing, “Then I recommend you mend things before it's too late… If they can be saved. He appears to care about you a lot as well if he came all this way with you. Cherish what feelings he's brought you and don't dwell on the turmoil that could tear you apart. Remind him of this.”

Pietro never thought he'd ever be getting love advice from his dad, let alone sound love advice. The whole thing just left his head spinning to be honest.

“I suppose I'll leave you to that then.” His father spoke and without another word, flew upward, scaling the castle.

Pietro now left back with his own rapid moving mind again. How many more times could he run the conversations through his head without giving himself a headache, he wondered. His head already felt like it was throbbing from the stress. He thought about what his father said. What Bobby said. He felt like he could throw up. Why did Magneto have to be right? Why did Bobby also have to be right? And why did he always have to seem like the asshole in the end? 

He kicked at the ground lightly, “Goddammit…”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — 

Bobby had just gotten back to the castle grounds after taking an air ride on an ice bridge. Felt like he had to get out for a while too. The chilling air of the night unfazed him, but the metaphorical chill of the night left him shaking. He had gone up as high as he could to look over the small city to clear his head, but being up high just made him think of Pietro… Maybe thinking if he could share his perspective literally, perhaps he could figuratively too…

He regretted ever saying such a thing to him. To his love. The light of his life that he snuffed out with a careless phrase of a debilitating magnitude. He of all people should have known the repercussions. How could he be so harsh? He spoke in anger and he spoke too soon, before he could bear the weight of his words. Risking the peace they worked so hard for. Yet he knew there was some truth to them and why it hurt more. He didn't want this to ever be something he could even bring up, but he's certain it hurt Pietro more than it could hurt him… 

Bobby sighed as he dragged his body to the elevator, wondering if he'd even see Pietro again for the evening. Maybe he should do them both a favor and sleep on the couch for his sins? But the night was late and the day was long, and he so craved the comfort of their bed… 

Arriving on their floor, he cautiously creaked the bedroom door open, not sure what to expect. He shouldn't have been surprised at this point to see Pietro laying curled up with his head on the bed in the dark while roughly 40ft tall, but it still did. He thought maybe he'd still be out or at least not want to be around anywhere near where Bobby would be.

He took a hesitant step forward, unsure if Pietro was sleeping, when he heard a loud sniffle and sob. Goddammit. He made him cry. Pietro was never one to cry easily, and Bobby had made him cry. He didn't want to make things worse with his presence, but everything in him screamed out to comfort him.

“Pietro? I'm sorry… Am I allowed to come in?”

Pietro raised his head from the bed to look at him, his sleeked hair frazzled. The mattress creaked from the substantial weight being lifted from it, his eminence permeating the room despite the high ceilings. The sheer size of him up close always sent a shudder up Bobby's spine, although this was hardly even the biggest he'd ever seen him. But still, being in his presence when he was relatively large was always something to behold. Even when he looked at him with pleading sopping wet eyes and a quivering lip.

Pietro's voice echoed as it quaked, he spoke honestly and truly, “I don't (hic) want us to be (hic) mad at each other…”

Bobby crumbled immediately, tears welling in his eyes too, “Oh, Petey… Starlight… I don't want us to be mad either… I'm sorry about what I said earlier, I–”

Pietro practically wailed, devastated, “But you were right! I even (hic) talked to my father about it and he said the same. Fucking. Thing! God! I'm just like him…” He buried his face back into the bed as if it were a pillow. 

Bobby strode over to his large boyfriend with purpose, crawled onto the bed to reach his spacious face and lifted it up, “No! You're NOT like him! You're thoughtful, and kind, and always trying your best to do the right thing! Even if he seems like he's turned over a new leaf, Magneto wishes he could!”

Pietro hung his head pathetically, averting his eyes, not fully believing what Bobby had to say, but he continued.

“From what I know, I wouldn't have fallen in love with someone like your father…”

Bobby caressed Pietro's cheek, soaking his hand in his waterfall of tears, but he didn't care. Just as long as he could be his rock (or maybe pebble in this instance). Pietro wanted to lean into his touch but didn't want his weight to push him over. He kissed his small hand and put his king-sized head back onto the king-sized bed as it groaned in protest.

Pietro softened briefly and sniffed, “I guess when you put it that way…” Then he hardened again with a stern expression, “But it still doesn't change the fact that I killed those people…”

Bobby sat himself onto the bed next to Pietro's face and sighed, “It doesn't. But the fact of the matter is that you also saved all of us too. And then dragging our shipwreck all the way here to boot. We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for what you did. I am grateful for what you did anyway… As complicated as it is…You're still my big hero.”

Pietro wiped his tears away and just laid quiet for a bit.

“Yeah?...” He finally said.

“Yeah.” Said Bobby.

“Are you sure you still wanna be with someone like me?” Pietro asked hesitantly, as if scared of the answer, only to have Bobby go,

“Uh. Duh! You're stuck with me.” he said with a smirk, “Now are you gonna shrink down so I can cuddle with you properly, or do I need to get big too to hold you?”

Pietro looked concerned, “Do you actually want to try getting big again after what happened last time?”

“I think I can handle a bit of it while lying down. But if you don't want me to risk it I won't. I just really want to hold you right now and I think you need it.”

The gargantuan white-haired boy pulled himself up a bit as he tried to focus, steadily becoming less gargantuan. He exhaled heavily as if he had held his breath. He was now small enough to crawl onto the bed but still large enough to dwarf his frosty boyfriend.

“Is this small enough?” Pietro asked as he towered over top of Bobby, his palms pressing heavily into the bed on either side.

“It's just right!”

Bobby practically leapt up to wrap his arms around Pietro’s neck and pulled him down on top of him. All 400lbs and 10ft of him. Pietro gasped at the force and couldn't help but laugh at his gusto. Bobby really couldn't care less about his size and he always wanted him to know that. Something he had felt ever since they first properly met. And he was going to remind him now as well. This was the Pietro he had wanted to hear. This is the peace he wanted to make. To keep. And he wasn't going to let him go now that he was in his arms again.

“I love you.” Bobby made sure to say. Again and again. There weren't enough times he could say it. All between showering his body in kisses.

Pietro rolled over on his side so as to not crush Bobby and continued to giggle as he was assaulted by a continued onslaught of smooches.

Pietro grabbed Bobby's head with his oversized hands to stop him, “I love you too, okay?” 

And then met their mouths together in a passionate caress as their eyes closed.

Bobby’s eyes fluttered open again when he pulled away, “That's the best.”

Pietro snickered but rested his head onto Bobby's shoulder, “You're always so corny!...”

“But it works, doesn't it?...”