xp_logs | Pietro and Wanda, birthday dinner

x-scarletwitch.livejournal.com posting in

Before Wanda goes out with her coworkers, she and Pietro have a birthday dinner together.

It was a shame that the governments good graces couldn't have been stretched until their birthdays, Wanda mused, saying hello to someone as they shouted out a greeting. But, then again, her brother had made the bed he was currently sleeping in. Considering the potential for cabin fever, she grinned knocking at his door carefully so as not to disturb the bottle in her hand, he was reaping the consequences of his actions.

"I come bearing presents and drink," she called out.

"The presents can come in, the drink can definitely come in, and I suppose you can stay if you really must," Pietro replied, opening the door with a grin. "Happy birthday, Wanda. I have cake--Dane brought it by, surprisingly enough--a telephone, a stack of delivery menus . . . and I might have a few other things as well, one never knows."

"You were always the impudent one," Wanda bemoaned, leaning over to give him a quick hug. "And happy birthday yourself. Imagine that, us sharing the same birthday." She grinned and went over to set her packages down. "And of course Lorna sent up a cake. After all, she is my almost sister. We bonded, you know. She's my almost sister, she saved me from drowning after I ripped an elder god from my soul...it works. And you might?"

There was a shake of her head before she accused, "You are almost as bad as my former roommate here, Jake. Though I doubt highly that you would hide my shoes in the sugar bin."

"That would explain her sending you a cake. I, on the other hand, am the one who waited until after she'd been made to kill people before helping with the rescue effort." Pietro shook his head sharply. "But that's no fit conversational topic for a birthday, mm? I would only hide your shoes in the sugar bin if they were too big to fit in the pot of honey. Which is, thinking about it, rather likely."

"As fast as you can go, brother dear, I can make your pants fall down and then kick you with my nicely sized feet." Spying the stack of menus, Wanda grabbed a few and started flipping through them, wandering towards the couch. "Hrm..."

"But I know all your ticklish spots." Pietro leaned over her shoulder as she sat down. "There's a rather good steak place that delivers in a reasonable amount of time. I haven't found anything that adequately resembles home yet closer than that place in Ohio, though."

"Who's credit card is this going on? Yours, mine or Xavier's?" Wanda asked slyly with a wink. "But yes, the steak place sounds fantastic. Here, I brought the good drinks, you place the orders while I putter around with glasses and pour."

"I could go relieve Xavier of his wallet if you want. It'd be just like old times." Pietro smirked and reached for the phone. "You're drawing a steady paycheck and I'm still feeling dinner at Le Bernardin, so I nominate your credit card."

She snorted. "Oh, you would." Wanda sighed in a put upon fashion. "Alright then. Toss me the phone while I make some orders while you go setting everything else up. And no peeking at the presents, or I'll hex all the fun bits off."

Pietro gasped as he handed the phone over. "Not the fun bits! Those are the bits that are the most fun!" He got up to locate glasses--well, mugs--and poured the drinks, tossing over his shoulder "So, do I get to meet this mysterious university professor of yours? I haven't had the chance to try it out yet, but I have a theory that this ex-terrorist reputation of mine would lend itself really well to the obligatory 'make my sister cry and they will never find all of your body' speech."

A pillow flew by his head as Wanda sighed once again. "We rarely get to see each other as it is," she pointed out, a shadow quickly crossing her face. "You will only meet him if I get a promise that you will be on your best behavior. I do enjoy my sex life and having my lover terrified does put a damper on things." She paused when the restaurant picked up and turned away from her brother, quickly filling them in on the order they wished to place.

"He's sleeping with you," Pietro retorted. "I'd think he'd be used to terror by now. Strong stomach, too, that goes without saying . . . oh, order me an extra baked potato, would you? I like the potatoes there."

"Well, if he was sleeping with you," she retorted when she was put on hold for a brief second, "I'd be more concerned. And you and your stomach." Though all things considering, Wanda had never been shy about food. Food and anything else. Her credit card wouldn't bat an eye at the bill but then again, she'd taken it shopping with the women from the mansion before.

"Yes, well, nobody's sleeping with me, so you can rest easy." Pietro smirked. "It's not as if I won't run off the calories, so I might as well enjoy myself."

When Wanda got off the phone, she had an evil sparkle in her eyes. Propping herself up on the couch arm, she told him, "I could always fix that, you know. I have not done match making in oh so very long. I seem to recall setting you up on a few things now and then." She smirked. "And they will be here in about forty minutes. Considering how much time I spend in the gym, food is never a great concern for me."

Pietro groaned. "You know, you should have just given me your credit card and let me order. They know I tip well enough to shave some time off their deliveries. Oh well." He gave her a very level look as he handed her a drink. "And no thank you. I'd hate to meet any poor girl you'd inflict me on, and anyway I'm doing just as well without. I'm rather allergic to distraction and vulnerability these days."

"My dear, vulnerable is something you do not find very often around here. Possession, yes, insanity quite right, but vulnerable?" Her face softened a bit in thought. "Well, perhaps, though often well hidden." Pushing herself up from the couch, she went over to where the drinks were set up. "But anyway, you never let me have any fun."

"Not theirs, mine," Pietro corrected absently. "Though you have another point, there--Xavier girls tend to be a little on the crazy side for my taste, decorative though they may be." He grinned suddenly. "And of course I don't let you have any fun. 'Older brother' translates to 'enemy of fun' in any number of forgotten dead languages, you know."

"Remind me to ask Doug about that one." She gave him a glare, easily falling into one of their oldest teases to date. "Older by a full couple of minutes, maybe. You always did want to be first in everything."

"I don't have to want to, I just am." Pietro spread his arms. "I'm afraid it's simply reality, Wanda, and I've always felt sorry for you that you can't just accept it."

The sound of her snort was just barely hidden by the pouring of drinks. Wanda eyed him for a second and then grinned. "Be as it may, Pietro, I am still prettier than you are."

Apparently the name "Maximoff" on the order was enough to warrant extra effort; the steaks arrived in less time than they'd been given to expect, and the twins settled into their meal. After a few bites, Pietro waved his fork around. "So . . . these people. You've been here longer than I have. Is the crazy perhaps on a cycle, and this is just a low point?"

"It ebbs and flows," Wanda responded after finishing a mouthful of simply to die for steak. "Trust me, this is nothing. The invasions have lessened over time--but the last time Ororo ended up stark naked in the fight since it took place at night. And then the children...the children are special. Like the time I caught some of the boys performing a raid on the girls underwear. The place is never dull, you can give them that much."

"I could use dull," Pietro grumped. "Three years as Oedipus Bourne, Secret Agent Man, were quite stressful enough, thank you. Retirement is supposed to be restful." He smiled reluctantly. "I wish I'd been here for the underwear raid--that's actually refreshingly normal. Eddie and I planned one of those third year, but he chickened out on me."

"Well, if I were to hear that you'd seen your fair share of underwear raids while working for our father, I would need a least a good two hours scrubbing out my brain. I doubt that Mystique even owns a scrap of underwear and the last thing I need is the mental image of Toad's." Wanda pointed the fork at him. "Eddie? Your flatmate from college, yes? And I can see him chickening out of something like that."

"She does, but only to wear for our father," Pietro replied with a malicious glint in his eye. "Speaking of mental images. I had to live with that one, so now I pass it on." He snorted. "Yes, that Eddie. I think the excuse he gave me was some sort of last-minute animal-rights rally, but he just lost his nerve. And since the whole plan hinged on getting his hamster inside to unlock the window for us, I spent my evening at the pub instead. And there was a darts tournament, so instead of shrieking college girls I got half-drunk middle-aged men in loud shirts."

Grimacing at the thought of that little, Wanda took a drink. "I will list that on the list of things I never needed to know, thank you. Hrmph, of course he would. More comfortable with the animals--and to this day, I swear the hamster was evil--then with women. I do not think he liked me very much."

"The hamster was not evil," Pietro protested. "The hamster made very strong coffee and changed the light bulbs without having to be asked. And I've never had a bathroom that clean since." He grinned. "You're right, though, Eddie never had much time for you. That's one reason we got along."

Wanda narrowed her eyes into slits. "Yes, a pair of royal brats you both were. At least I know somethings will never change." She slid her eyes to the boxes the food came in. "And how often did you order from this place, anyway? You would have thought they'd tapped into your super speed the way they got over here."

"It's not how often you order, it's how much you tip. I took the liberty of writing in a nice big one for you, just to keep things moving along." Pietro scraped some of the beef juice off his plate with a biscuit, and popped the whole into his mouth with a smile. "A good steak is worth cultivating, after all."

His only answer for a few minutes was a very unladylike snort. "My gift had better be worth it," she teased, poking him with her fork.

"Gift? Gift?" Pietro's eyes went mournful. "My presence in your life again isn't gift enough? My impending freedom means nothing?" Grinning suddenly, he brought a brightly-wrapped package out from underneath the table. "Well, I suppose if I must buy your love these days, I did happen to pick this up . . ."

"These days? Darling, you've always had to buy my love." Grinning, another present joined the first on the table, crowding the plates and glasses out of the way but not to the point where they fell off. "And, remember, neither of us can use their powers opening it. Mother would roll in her grave."

"I'm using my powers just to keep myself slow enough to interact with you peons," Pietro retorted loftily. "I'm afraid I've only been able to estimate the rate of inflation on your love, since it's been a few years, so let me know how I did. And watch your fingernails when you open it."

There would have been a response but Wanda was too preoccupied with opening the package. She enjoyed gifts probably a tad too much but it never bothered her. She crooned out an "Oohh" when she finally got the box open and saw what was inside. Several brightly colored scarfs lay nestled among two incredibly expensive looking map cases, the ones that rolled. There may have been a second or two when she petted them.

Pietro grinned at her. "I take it from your unhealthily mesmerized expression that I guessed fairly well right?"

"It is perfectly healthy," Wanda retorted. But she grinned and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I love them, thank you. You always manage to find the perfect present. Mother and I trained you well."

"The eighties were one long gift-giving boot camp. It wasn't so much a case of me learning as it was 'pick better gifts next time or we'll put the evil eye on you, you horrible horrible boy.'" Pietro crunched the last of his potato skin in a highly satisfied manner. "Your turn. And I'd better not find the fun bits hexed off."

"No, you are no longer in danger of having anything hexed off, fun bits or otherwise." She petted the map cases one more time before reluctantly putting the box to the side as she slide his gift over to him. "And Mother always was very good with those warnings, even at the end when she was threatening everyone with it."

"It didn't hurt that you actually can ill-wish people if you feel like it," Pietro replied, snatching the soft package. He unstuck the tape carefully, folding the ends under without tearing the paper, and blinked. "Socks? Wait." He held up one of the socks, rubbing the fabric between his fingers, stretching it gently, inspecting the seams, and when he finally looked back at Wanda his eyes were wide. "Kluge socks. These are Kluge socks. New ones. How the bloody hell did you find new Kluge socks? The old man died when we were nineteen, and that idiot who took over the shop didn't make them right!"

Wanda smirked as she propped her chin on her hand. "I happened to discovered," she said loftily, "that the old man's son came back, saw the shambles the place had turned into, and bought the place back. It is now back in the family, where it belongs, and has gone back to doing exactly what it used to do."

"Well, hats off to Kluge the Younger. I haven't had a decent pair of socks in over a decade." Pietro had his shoes off in an instant, and his feet nestled in a pair of the new socks in not too much longer. He wiggled his toes, a beatific expression on his face. "How they managed to design the perfect sock for super-speed travel I'll never know, but there's nothing like them anywhere in the world. Thank you, Wanda." He gave her a hopeful grin. "Contact information?"

"Oh, I suppose..." She was interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone. "Speaking of being in contact. Hrm, I wonder who it could be." Grabbing her purse, Wanda quickly pulled out the phone and grinned at the caller ID. "Perfect timing." Flipping it open, she winked at her brother and then answered, "I was wondering when you would be calling! Thank you, yes, we are having a wonderful time. I am doing well, keeping busy. No, I am not overworking myself and yes, I am eating properly. And, yes, yes he is here."

Grinning brightly, she passed over the phone. "Someone wants to talk to you."

Pietro took the phone with a puzzled expression. "Hello?"

Shock and joy and apprehension flickered over his face too quickly for anyone but Wanda to read, and he blinked hard to clear the sudden blurring of his vision. "Uncle Django," he murmured, then rallied, and in a stronger voice said "Uncle Django, you horrible old rogue, aren't you dead yet? Aunt Marya, how are you . . ." The voices kept coming--older, but still as familiar as breathing, so quickly that he thought the entire caravan must be crammed in around a single speaker phone. He didn't have time, between greeting everyone, to do more than meet Wanda's eyes. But they'd never needed any more than that to tell each other the important things.