Warning for spoilers is currently required for prompts regarding Apocalypse (if the prompt is about something that wasn't in a trailer, then a warning is needed).
Re: FILL [SPOILER] [GEN] Erik, Pietro
anonymous
August 19 2014, 12:51:19 UTC
CONTINUED 2/3
“Not when you’re in this state Erik, no, but maybe in the morning if you’re still here.” There’s ice in Charles’ tone, well-deserved but a touch hypocritical too; Charles did spend a decade drunk after all. Erik glares at him and then puts his head in his hands. “I can’t believe I have a son,” he mumbles between fingers. “Are you sure?” Alex asks. “Cause, like, you never know. She may just have known a man who could move metal, but not you? Or ‘known’ mightn’t mean ‘slept with’?” Charles looks at Alex as if to say don’t get his hopes up, but Erik mumbles from behind his hands, “I went to see his mother. There isn’t an element of doubt.” Alex surreptitiously hands five bucks to Hank. They’d made a bet on the way upstairs whether or not Erik would have the balls to find out was he the baby-daddy or not. “I’m a terrible father!” Erik says, standing up, and then clearly thinking the better of it and sitting down again. “I’ve got to go and get Pietro like ten, eleven years worth of presents.” He stops and peers around suspiciously. “What age is the kid anyway?” “Closer to eighteen?” Hank says cautiously, afraid this will be an unacceptable answer. Erik looks up at him, his eyes fixating on Hank like the gospel itself was etched on his blue forehead. “Really? Eighteen? That’s great, I can drink with him in Europe now, we can bond”. “Perhaps we might refrain from drinking for a little while,” Charles suggests, a smile in his tone. “Perhaps,” Erik says, a little sadly. “I’ve got to, sober up, and like, assume my responsibility-” and then his face was changing and he was ineffectively jabbing a finger at Charles. “You! Why is my son at your school?” “Because he’s a mutant Erik, come on, you know this.” “But why do you get to raise him? He’s mine. I’m taking him to the Brotherhood right now before you brainwash him into your idealistic peaceful ways.”
Hank started laughing, and Alex had a fist shoved in his mouth to stop the giggles coming out. Only Charles it seemed, had the patience to reason with Erik when he was like this. “Erik, does your-,” and then he pauses. He’d probably been going for terrorist organisation but had evidently caught himself last minute. “Does the Brotherhood actually teach its members anything?” “Yes…” Erik says, looking around, probably for inspiration. “We do very important things Charles. Really, really important stuff.” “Top-secret?” Alex says with a smile. “Yes!” Erik says, latching onto that. “Yes, I’m terribly afraid that I can’t tell you, but it is just so secret. But I can tell Pietro, ‘cause he’s my son and I should trust him.” Erik was wavering again, and Hank quickly tried to think of something to say, but he wasn’t fast enough. “I’m not ready to have kids,” Erik mutters. “I know. I have about fifty under my care. It’s difficult,” Charles says sympathetically. “You never said you had fifty children!” Erik says, his eyes wild. “Students, Erik, I have fifty students, I don’t actually have any children-” Erik seems to consider this for a moment. “It’s probably best. Fifty is a lot. It’s a very big number. One child is probably enough between the two of us, isn’t it?”
Hank can’t help himself, and he breaks down laughing. Alex is in a similar state. Erik suddenly grabs his helmet and pulls it on, and then starts rhythmically pounding his head against the table. The helmet makes a dull thud each time. It is hypnotic. “Erik, stop that, you’ll give yourself another concussion,” Charles says. “Why don’t you ever call me Magneto, it’s so rude.” “Fine Magneto, could you take off the helmet?” “What, you want my son and my helmet? You’re so greedy Charles.”
“Not when you’re in this state Erik, no, but maybe in the morning if you’re still here.”
There’s ice in Charles’ tone, well-deserved but a touch hypocritical too; Charles did spend a decade drunk after all.
Erik glares at him and then puts his head in his hands. “I can’t believe I have a son,” he mumbles between fingers.
“Are you sure?” Alex asks. “Cause, like, you never know. She may just have known a man who could move metal, but not you? Or ‘known’ mightn’t mean ‘slept with’?”
Charles looks at Alex as if to say don’t get his hopes up, but Erik mumbles from behind his hands, “I went to see his mother. There isn’t an element of doubt.”
Alex surreptitiously hands five bucks to Hank. They’d made a bet on the way upstairs whether or not Erik would have the balls to find out was he the baby-daddy or not.
“I’m a terrible father!” Erik says, standing up, and then clearly thinking the better of it and sitting down again. “I’ve got to go and get Pietro like ten, eleven years worth of presents.” He stops and peers around suspiciously. “What age is the kid anyway?”
“Closer to eighteen?” Hank says cautiously, afraid this will be an unacceptable answer.
Erik looks up at him, his eyes fixating on Hank like the gospel itself was etched on his blue forehead. “Really? Eighteen? That’s great, I can drink with him in Europe now, we can bond”.
“Perhaps we might refrain from drinking for a little while,” Charles suggests, a smile in his tone.
“Perhaps,” Erik says, a little sadly. “I’ve got to, sober up, and like, assume my responsibility-” and then his face was changing and he was ineffectively jabbing a finger at Charles. “You! Why is my son at your school?”
“Because he’s a mutant Erik, come on, you know this.”
“But why do you get to raise him? He’s mine. I’m taking him to the Brotherhood right now before you brainwash him into your idealistic peaceful ways.”
Hank started laughing, and Alex had a fist shoved in his mouth to stop the giggles coming out. Only Charles it seemed, had the patience to reason with Erik when he was like this.
“Erik, does your-,” and then he pauses. He’d probably been going for terrorist organisation but had evidently caught himself last minute. “Does the Brotherhood actually teach its members anything?”
“Yes…” Erik says, looking around, probably for inspiration. “We do very important things Charles. Really, really important stuff.”
“Top-secret?” Alex says with a smile.
“Yes!” Erik says, latching onto that. “Yes, I’m terribly afraid that I can’t tell you, but it is just so secret. But I can tell Pietro, ‘cause he’s my son and I should trust him.”
Erik was wavering again, and Hank quickly tried to think of something to say, but he wasn’t fast enough. “I’m not ready to have kids,” Erik mutters.
“I know. I have about fifty under my care. It’s difficult,” Charles says sympathetically.
“You never said you had fifty children!” Erik says, his eyes wild.
“Students, Erik, I have fifty students, I don’t actually have any children-”
Erik seems to consider this for a moment. “It’s probably best. Fifty is a lot. It’s a very big number. One child is probably enough between the two of us, isn’t it?”
Hank can’t help himself, and he breaks down laughing. Alex is in a similar state.
Erik suddenly grabs his helmet and pulls it on, and then starts rhythmically pounding his head against the table. The helmet makes a dull thud each time. It is hypnotic.
“Erik, stop that, you’ll give yourself another concussion,” Charles says.
“Why don’t you ever call me Magneto, it’s so rude.”
“Fine Magneto, could you take off the helmet?”
“What, you want my son and my helmet? You’re so greedy Charles.”
Reply
Leave a comment