Science for Morons

Course 101: Physics

"A body in motion stays in motion."

The laws of science are unfairly rigid, as Pietro learns after a collision with the side of a building.

The whine could be heard from his room. It was reaching an octave that could break glass, and vaguely sounded like his name. He was not awake, and he was not going to deal with that jackass at five in the morning. A brown eye slipped open and caught the neon green numbers proclaiming it was seven-fifteen on the dot. Groan, roll over, put pillow over head. Repeat once the whining gets louder.

He wouldn't have much longer, he knew that. When it came to Pietro, that boy could whine for hours straight without batting an eye. It was even worse now, since the accident. Why the hell did Lance have to deal with him, huh? Because he was the most responsible? Because he was the team leader? Bullshit! Pietro always whined until he got his way anyway, Lance was more like a figurehead, forced to do whatever the hell his whiny queen demanded. The image of Pietro in a dramatically gaudy red-and-gold ensemble, bearing a jewel-encrusted crown and glass slippers was nearly too much for the earth-shaker. The floor rumbled with his snickers.

"Heyheyhey! I felt that! Get your ass down here! Laaaaaaance!"

Yes, that was Pietro all right. Fred would still be asleep for several more hours (unless Pietro's wails and demands for attention went unanswered, then he'd barge into Lance's room and put the rock-tumbler's head through the wall) and Todd usually hopped out of the house around this time to avoid Pietro's daily early-morning complaints. It hadn't been that long since the incident, but already they'd adopted a routine.

"Laaaaaance!"

"Ugh, fine. Fine. You win! Keep your pants on." Lance groaned loudly, knowing Pietro was straining downstairs to hear him, but not in the mood to raise his voice further. The speedster hated waiting; ironically he'd be doing a lot of waiting in the upcoming months. Yawning, Lance dragged himself out of bed, pulled on some pants that were still relatively clean and hadn't made their way into the over-flowing laundry basket yet, and headed downstairs. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, far enough away so Pietro couldn't see him yet. Another yawn, followed by stretching and cracking his knuckles, and Lance finally graced Quicksilver with his presence.

"About damn time! Do you know how long I had to wait for you? Huh? Do ya?! Too long, that's how long! I couldn't even keep track because the stupid clock's busted. Who the hell broke it? Todd? Nah, it was probably Blob. –Anyway! Why the hell didn't you get your ass down here sooner! I could have tried to move and killed myself, and how would that make you feel, huh Mister Responsible Team Leader?"

"Are you done yet?" Pietro's rambling involved a lot of hand motions which always amused Lance. Right now though, it made him tired to watch the other move around like a kid fed Pixie Stix. "Because I honestly don't want to listen to you right now." Well, no one ever said Lance wasn't honest.

He received an icy glare from his comrade, who now had his arms folded tightly over his chest. "Yeah, well, you're a douche." It was one of his better comebacks, he'd long since run out of them at the X-Geeks' manor weeks ago. Being on full-time Pietro Watch was more exhausting than Lance had figured. As soon as Pietro had healed, he was going to take a long nap.

"How long do you have left?"

"Forever," Pietro whined, a pout accompanying the accusation, "doctor Beast—that's a horrible name to go by, even for a mutant—said it would be like, two months or something."

"Two months?" Lance stared at the other mutant in disbelief. "How the hell can a broken leg heal in two months?"

A lightning-fast shrug, and Pietro launched into his explanation, "Mutant. Duh. I'm fast, therefore my body is fast. Therefore I heal quickly." He still didn't seem very pleased, and attempted to squirm into a more comfortable position on the couch. "I hate this! I can so walk! It's no big deal! C'mon, Rocky, pull me up!"

"No, especially not after that." Lance hated the nickname. Rock puns were his thing, not Pietro's. Even with the other's mingled pout-glare Lance made no attempt to move from the armchair he'd found himself in shortly after Pietro's rant started. The speedster had the couch to himself, seeing as how he couldn't possibly get upstairs on his own, and Lance had no intention of carrying the little bastard up and down stairs whenever he wished. He wanted to hand Pietro over to the X-Men actually, but that would be like backstabbing his best friend—yes, it was quite sad, to be best friends with such a brat, but Lance wasn't exactly the most popular guy anyway—and if there was one thing Lance refused to do, it was that. They were the Brotherhood after all, and he intended to keep the four of them together, even if that meant putting up with Todd's stench, Fred's eating habits, and Pietro's… well, Pietro-ness.

"Well, two months isn't that bad," Lance ventured slowly, watching as Pietro's glare deepened. How much longer until the speedster had glared a hole straight through the Responsible Team Leader? It was a rather amusing thought, and Lance couldn't help but chuckle.

"Oh sure, laugh all you want. I swear, the moment I'm back on my feet…!" Pietro couldn't even finish his threat, instead cutting himself off with a sigh. "Whatever. What-the-hell-ever." He squirmed again and let out a shout as his ankle hit the arm of the couch. "Ow! Oh holy god! Oww! Dammit!" His cusses shifted into Romanian and he clutched at the brace supporting his ankle on his non-broken leg.

Lance winced, though made no move to aid the other. "Serves you right for wiggling around like that. Once we get you a wheelchair you outta be fine."

That earned a wail from the speedster that finally woke Blob, as evidenced by the loud crashing sound from upstairs. Pietro's mournful cry immediately stopped, deciding not to tempt fate when it came to Blob's hurling-some-unlucky-mutant-bastard's-head-through-the-wall skills. It wasn't like he could run away anymore. "I hate you." He instead directed his anger at Lance, who merely shrugged in response.

"Not my fault. You're the one who thought it would be smart to attempt to scale a building."

"I could've done it, I just didn't get up to speed quick enough!"

"Uh huh. Now tell me you can walk on water."

"I can! Well, not walk, but I can run across water. I'll show ya sometime, Rocky." Lance's expression clearly stated that he didn't believe it. Not that he had any reason to, Pietro had never actually run across water, just like he'd never really run up the side of a building. It had seemed like a brilliant idea though, and it would have worked if only the glass windows hadn't been so thin, and the laws of physics weren't so damn brutal.

Their discussion was cut short by an intrusively loud ringing noise, coming from the direction of the Brotherhood Boarding House's only phone. It had been in Mystique's room for an awfully long time, but with her out of the house it was more convenient to keep it in the hallway. "I'll get it," Lance volunteered needlessly. It wasn't like Fred would get it, and Todd was still out. Pietro was shooting a glare at the phone, apparently blaming inanimate objects for his current position. He was over by the phone in a moment, and picked it up before it could reach the fourth ring (a new record, unless he was expecting a call from Kitty); "Hello?"

The voice on the other end of the phone certainly wasn't Kitty. "Hello, Lance," Professor X greeted, and Lance got a strange feeling that the Professor wasn't actually using a phone. Psychics freaked him out. "I was just calling to see if things are going okay over there. I trust that you're taking good care of Pietro, but if you need any help you can always come to the X-Men."

Groan, roll eyes, make a gagging motion in Pietro's direction. "Uh huh, sure Prof. I think I've got it pretty well covered." Lance didn't give him the chance to say anything else, instead dropping the phone on the receiver. "Talk about trust issues. He could have just read my mind, but no, he has to call and act like things are A-okay."

Pietro rolled his eyes in response. "That's the X-Dorks for you. They've always gotta rub it in our faces that they've got it better than us. Screw them."

"Yeah, screw them." Lance echoed, turning to look at the couch-bound speedster, who was once again attempting to squirm around to keep moving. It was almost funny, Pietro relied so heavily on his legs and to have one broken and a sprained ankle… Well, needless to say, Lance had spent the first few weeks laughing whenever he saw Pietro. Those first few weeks had been spent at the X-Dork Manor, since the Brotherhood couldn't exactly afford to pay for a doctor. Besides, no doctor would be able to help Pietro – not unless they knew a thing or two about mutants. At least Pietro would heal quickly.

"LanceLanceLanceLanceLaaaaance! Pay attention to me, dammit!"

But not quick enough.