Disclaimer: Neocolai does not own X-Men or anything related to the franchise.

Have a little ditty for an early Father's Day shout-out.

"I can't believe this. I can not believe this." Repeated thuds followed Peter's muttering as Erik neared the silver mutant's room. He paused before reaching the open doorway.

"Why don't you just tell him?" Raven suggested. "Are you afraid of his response?"

"I can't believe you just said that," Peter moaned. "I've been trying for months. He just looks at me like Wanda does when I ask her to play Frisbee."

"Well, that in itself shouldn't surprise you," Raven drawled. Her tone softened, and Erik could picture the kid's mopey frown. "I'm sure you haven't tried everything."

"Short of quoting every cliché line in the film industry?" Another bemoaning sigh. "I think he's pretending I don't exist."

"Just give him the card," Raven suggested. "What could you lose at this point?"

"Only my shredded dignity and the hope of ever showing my face to him again," Peter intoned.

Ah, now he understood. Kid who only talked about his mom. Nail-biting anxiety. Cliché cards. Revelations of doom. Early summer occasions. Peering inside, Erik rapped on the doorframe and cleared his throat, ignoring the silver blur that bounded off the wall. The boy was going to hyperventilate if he breathed any faster.

"Month of June?" Erik said casually, nodding to Mystique.

Peter stammered voicelessly. Erik smiled thinly, wishing it was a day he could have celebrated as well.

"If I were a father, I'd be happy just to know I had a son." His voice cracked as he thought of dried petals and coloring pages and half-melted sweets pressed under his pillow. Fathers were commemorated on the twenty-third of June in Poland, but every day was celebrated in Nina's heart. This year, Erik would be alone.

Some other father would rejoice that he hadn't been forgotten.

"So you mean like this?" Peter exclaimed, and in a gust he was standing in front of Erik, holding out a folded piece of paper with two stick figures and the words "Your my dad love you" scrawled beneath.

Fighting skepticism, Erik tried to appreciate the taller stick figure with his hands on his hips, and the smaller figure with scribbled hair running towards him. He tried to appreciate the value of a handmade card.

Honestly, he would tell Mystique later (after she kicked in his heel) that he really tried.

"You might do better with a Hallmark," Erik suggested.

He couldn't understand why the kid looked like he'd been kicked out of the nest.

After all, even Nina knew how to spell better.