Dedicated to the Fat, from the Box and the Dumb. Happy belated birthday. It's been fun watching the X-Men movies together, bub.

One

"No."

Kurt shakes his head, black fringe falling into his eyes. He shifts his weight back and forth and glances through the window to where the cashier sits inside, painting her nails and chewing gum with her mouth open. Peter can almost hear the smacking from here, even over the buzz of the outdoor lights and neon gas price signs.

She hasn't noticed them yet, but if Kurt keeps it up, he'll be buying them one-way tickets to suspicious town.

"Stop doing the pee-pee dance. You'll draw attention." Peter tries to sound sincere over the impatience he can feel bubbling up inside him. Or maybe that's Mountain Dew. He leans back and lets it go as a burp.

He flexes his nose to get rid of the tingles. Definitely Mountain Dew.

Kurt makes a face but doesn't comment. "I'm not doing the pee-pee dance. And I always draw attention," he says, motioning to himself with his blue claws. His tail whips forth and bumps against the glass.

Peter's eyes widen. "Well, try to draw less of it!"

The cashier is watching them now, leaning to peer past the ads on the window, though only in an intrigued way. She locks eyes with Peter and he gives her a smile and wave. She's wearing a plaid blazer with those big shoulders. Must be Cindy, though she changed her hair color again.

She lifts her hand to return the wave, and it collides with the nail polish bottle. Peter flinches and would have darted in to catch it, if not for his crutches. The red polish dribbles out.

At least the counter is already red.

Peter fixes his crutches beneath his armpits and tilts his head to the side. "Go now, while she's distracted."

"I'm not scared that I'll get caught. I'm worried about, you know, Proverbs 15:3—He is watching whether we do good or evil."

Another bubble of impatience, and it definitely isn't Mountain Dew this time. "Look, I'm almost certain the Lord doesn't care about one little pack of Skittles. But this guy–" Peter hunches over his crutch to put a thumb to his chest, hoping it looks more emphatic than pathetic "–does, and he didn't bring any money, so if you could just poof, then…"

"I brought money." Kurt's claw reaches toward his back pocket.

Peter has Kurt's wrist in his hand before either of them have time to blink. The corner of Peter's mouth lifts. At least his reflexes aren't broken. "I don't want to owe you."

Kurt pulls his wrist free. "Peter, it would be much kinder to me if you'd let me pay for them. I would happily give them to you as a gift."

Peter ignores him. Inside, Cindy goes to the back to get more paper towels. "This is a good chance, Kurt." Peter imagines he's pushing him toward the Skittles with his words. "Maybe your last chance."

Kurt's tail whips to and fro and his toes curl up like big, blue caterpillars. Then, he goes almost scarily still, and his mouth widens into his toothful smile.

He has an idea, realizes Peter. He returns the smile, though the longer he looks at Kurt, the less certain he is that he's going to be on board with it.

"I will steal the Skittles–"

So far, so good.

"–if you tell Magneto you're his son."

Peter stares at Kurt, his mouth falling slack. "I never should have told you about that, should I?"

"Is that a no?"

Peter sticks his hands in his silver jacket pockets. "Remind me how that would be a fair trade for either of us?"

Kurt shrugs. "That girl will be back any second. Better choose."

Peter maintains a poker face, but his palms start to sweat inside his pockets and he clenches his fists. God, this thing is as clammy as wearing duct tape. But damn him if it didn't make him look-

He forces his train of thought back on track. Kurt's yellow eyes bore into him, and he can almost feel the Catholic guilt transferring between them.

How much do I want these Skittles? Peter asks himself.

How much do you want to tell Magneto? asks an uncalled-for thought. Shut up, he tells it, but he can't shake it.

Peter drops his head in defeat, but he doesn't unclench his fists. "Go ahead."

There's a black and blue cloud, then Kurt is back in the middle of it long enough to hand Peter the Skittles and let him grab hold of his arm.

They appear in what Peter assumes is the mansion, based on the wood paneling. It takes him a few blinks to adjust to the dim lighting and to see Magneto sitting up in bed across the room.

"His bedroom?" Peter hisses, constricting his grip on Kurt's arm.

"Autsch!" Kurt yanks his wrist free for the second time that night. If he'd been more cooperative he might have avoided Peter's fingernails entirely.

"Sorry, Magneto, uh, Mr. Lehnsherr…" says Peter, half-bowing, half painfully digging his crutches into his armpits. It dawns on him that if Magneto had stuck around, his last name might have been Lehnsherr.

Peter Lehnsherr. Huh.

Kurt bursts into blue and black shadow, leaving Peter alone in the room with Magneto.

"Hey, they have doors here, you know," calls Peter to the cloud, then winces at how loud his voice sounds.

Magneto barely reacts from where he sits. The lamp next to him silhouettes his stubble, and Peter remembers how his mom had been the one to teach him to shave. He had actually used women's razors and shaving cream for years without knowing any better. He doubts Magneto would have been much of a better teacher, though, with how unruly that stubble is getting. Although, it's kind of—

Magneto clears his throat, and Peter swears he could have had a heart attack right then and there. He cringes when he realizes he'd been grinning to himself like an idiot.

This is definitely not the right time.

Peter hobbles quickly to the door. "Sorry about Kurt again, he must have overshot or something," he says, trying to fill the silence as he fumbles with the doorknob, struggling not to drop his crutches. "Skittle?" he offers Magneto.

Magneto shakes his head.

A nervous chuckle escapes Peter's lips that continues until the door closes behind him. He then squeezes his eyes shut and leans his forehead against the wood, letting his goggles dig into his scalp. Real nice save there, champ.

Two bulky fingers slide the pack of Skittles out of his hand.

"Hey," Peter protests, straightening up to follow them with his eyes.

"I'm going to go pay for these," says Kurt matter-of-factly.

Peter fixes him with a cold look until he teleports away.