Disclaimer: Neocolai does not own Xmen or anything affiliated with the franchise.

Between damage control, pacifying the government, reestablishing himself among the mutants, and discussing blueprints for a new academy with Charles, Erik didn't chance upon Peter for two weeks. When he saw the flit of silver again, the kid was sporting a full-leg cast that was generously decorated with signatures, band titles, and a few less wholesome designs. He wobbled dangerously on one crutch, a box of girl scout cookies tucked under his free arm. Erik scoffed at the suspicious number of heart stickers plastered all over the package, wondering how many teens were trailing in the silver mutant's wake.

Peter swiveled at the sound and paused in the doorway, cookie crumbs trailing down his chin. Brown eyes looked flummoxed and embarrassed and strangely hopeful all at once.

"Doesn't Hank make you clean up after yourself?" Erik posed, raising an eyebrow at the snickerdoodle crumbles littering the hall.

Blanching like a guilty kindergartener, Peter scuffed his casted foot over the evidence, trying to sift it into the carpet. Without his impediment he probably would have found a broom in seconds. Erik blinked at the mental image and shook his head. The kid must have been a heck of a job for his mother.

"So…." Peter cleared his throat roughly, clenching the cookie box as he swayed on his good leg. "You're staying? Not here, I mean. The new academy. That's what they're planning, right? Another school for mutants? You'll be part of it, won't you?"

Erik waited until he was sure the stream of words was finished. "No."

Dismay mingled with resignation. "Oh." Breathing deeply, Peter tapped the box against his hip. "Okay..."

"I'll be here long enough to restore the building." Unnecessary details, but he felt like he owed the kid an explanation. (Even if the debt was leaning in his favor after saving the lives of half the X-Men, including the impertinent twit.)

"Mystique didn't tell you….." Another careful breath. "She didn't convince you otherwise?"

"Why would she persuade me?" Erik countered. "We both know our paths."

Peter crumbled the wrapping inside the box until Erik felt compelled to ask, "Why does it matter?"

Surely the boy wasn't expecting him to teach a school of squabbling teenagers. His talents were far more advantageous elsewhere.

"No, it's just – I mean that – I thought maybe…." Trailing off, Quicksilver fidgeted, his face pinching in concentration. At length he shrugged. "Just thought maybe you'd stick around."

He sounded defeated. Exasperated, Erik rolled his eyes. "Charles always convinces the youth to manage his cause."

"The professor didn't say anything to me," Peter said in an injured mutter.

Bemused, Erik cocked an eyebrow. What had he done to ruffle the boy's feelings this time? And to think his previous coworkers had wondered why he denounced responsibility for any children but his own.

He'd failed even her.

"I don't have time to discuss this," Erik said, waving the boy away. His hand may have been raised as a shield, but only Charles would be able to tell. Vexatious telepath knew everything.

Another crinkle of packaging and the boy was gone. Erik clapped a hand over his eyes. Foolish twit was going to destroy his own mutation if he kept trying to run on that leg.

"I assume that's why you're looking after him," Charles commented wryly.

"I didn't volunteer my assistance just to pacify your nestlings," Erik retorted.

"Really."

Huffing, Erik shook his head lightly to clear it, and returned his thoughts to the estimation of how much iron ore would be needed to repair the mansion. He paused at the end of the hallway and looked back.

Maybe he'd assign that blue-tailed menace to vacuum the entire second landing.