Work Text:
Time spun a tale draped in lovely lines. An old tree aged in bark every year. The wrinkles of a smile or worry creased forever in a person's aging flesh — a story for how they lived. Of scars, some long gone and faded and other's still present like tattoos upon the skin.
Yet, here a man stood, even with a shock of silver hair, at 40 years old without wrinkles or scars.
In fact, he barely looked a day over twenty.
That was just a fact of life for Pietro Maximoff, but that doesn’t mean that he always knew about it though.
It makes a sick kind of sense when Pietro thinks about it, with his mutation literally dragging him outside of the present flow of time and his body moving (regenerating) faster than anyone else alive. If he wasn’t stuck unageing — his cells literally immortalized — then he would have died long ago. His body unable to keep up at the speed in which he lived, and he would have rapidly aged and died as soon as his X-gene activated.
Still, for all Pietro was thought of stupid and impulsive, his brain actually just moved incredibly fast — his thoughts moving at such a rapid speed that no telepath could enter without facing a mental whiplash and nosebleed — and thus allowed for him to think things through completely whilst he answers just as fast.
Thus, Pietro really should have connected the dots sooner, but alas denial is as strong a motivator as anything.
He just kept telling himself that he had good genes. Just look at his dadneto, he’s like seventy and he looks like he’s in his forties.
But eventually, things just kept stacking up. The x-men once full of reckless teens, were now starting to grow smile lines around their eyes and mouth and even starting to grow greys. They looked older. And Pietro simply didn’t.
Anytime the team went out to some bar to celebrate — despite alcohol doing nothing because of Pietro’s metabolism — only Pietro continuously got carded.
Oh, and don’t even get him started on the amount of old ladies who scolded him for being out of school. He’s forty, he passed high school more than twenty years ago! Even if he's still the same clean-shaven man as ever (he's never even had to learn to shave his facial hair, because it has never even come in).
The thing that really nagged the most though was how his own team joked that he never matured past being a teenager. How he’s still the same reckless fool as ever.
And sometimes Pietro has to look in the mirror and he still sees the same teen that broke his dad out of the pentagon all for the thrill of kleptomaniac heart. Sure, he’s grown since then, but part of him still longs for the comfort of his mom for his dad to be proud of him and it’s more than just wanting a parent’s love, but needing them in a way so he doesn’t feel so small.
Hell, even his x-men team complain about the new technology coming out — like computers are hard to figure out. They really aren’t, and Pietro finds himself relating to the new teen students more than the people who are his age. And even the old x-men are all younger than him.
It should have been an easy adjustment for Pietro. He’s just out of time as he’s always been — the odd one out of the group, but all of it feels so overwhelming.
He sees Jean and Scott get married and even have a kid (even if it’s technically with a clone. That was a whole Thing)!
He sees Ororo have a fling with the King of Wakanda, and Rogue and Gambit try and fail to make things work.
He sees everyone around him going out and finding someone — even if it doesn’t last.
And Pietro when he thinks of relationships — of going out with people his age in their thirties or forties. They all just feel so old. And people who look his age just feel all kinds of wrong. Because even if Pietro looks twenty and sometimes (mostly) acts it, he isn’t. And no one can relate to feeling so young, but having lived so long, for Pietro to feel comfortable in a relationship (at least a long-term one).
Pietro was just lucky with all the hippy and acceptance movements going on that he was allowed to figure out he was asexual and panromantic (to find a community and not feel like as much of a freak). So at the very least while he wants to find a romantic relationship and someone to connect to he doesn’t have to think about the messy and complicated sex issue. (Though that’s another problem for him all together).
Right now, though, Pietro is just content to be alone. It’s fine (it’s really not).
What really drove Pietro into this existential crisis though was Logan. Yeah, that’s right — the immortal claw dude.
Logan had the gall to drag the two of them to some seedy ass abandoned car dump and laid it all on him.
“You’re not aging bub.” Logan simply stated, and he is anything if not direct.
Pietro just stopped, stilling completely and scoffed, denial humming through his veins, “Nah, I just got good genes.”
But Logan just kept going — giving him all the facts, and Hank (that traitor), even compiled some dumb medical file of his cells and powers that Logan handed to him.
“You’re going to see everyone around you die, and you’ll still be kicking,” Logan went on to say, not holding back any punches, “I know it’s hard to accept, but the sooner you do the easier this’ll be.”
And like the totally mature adult Pietro was, he punched Logan.
Pietro didn’t know how long they fought. Neither caring for the wounds they gave when they healed seconds after. The days of broken bones needing a week to heal are long gone for Pietro (his powers already having grown exponentially since Apocalypse).
Eventually though when dawn began to break — the sun hallowing the two’s sweating bodies — did Pietro just allow himself to collapse. His body and mind completely numb.
Pietro didn’t know how he got back to the school. Logan probably had to carry him back. He just wasn’t ready to accept it. He still isn’t but…
He wants, no needs, to talk to someone. Someone that was familiar.
And so, Pietro found himself running across the water — his steps only leaving mere ripples as time moved a snail’s pace around him.
Who wants to live forever? Ooh
His trusty Walkman, like his clothes and shoes, surrounded in his own bubble of time, belted out in his ears. Trust Queen to be so relatable and so good at the same time, man.
Who dares to love forever
And, just as the thought came to him, about what he needed to do, he found himself standing upon the sandy beaches of Genosha.
Oh, when love must die?
Pietro sighs, fate really has a habit of playing with him, doesn’t it? He stopped his Walkman from playing, slipping the headphones around his belt loop.
Pietro dusted the nonexistent sand off of his silver jacket – the memorabilia now full of patchworked holes, but still trusty and staying together. Pietro would rue the day he has to part with his trusty jacket, but like everything (cept for him) time moves on mercilessly.
Pietro raced into the thriving mutant city and stopped as the larger-than-life statues of his father and Professor X greeted him into the city.
Pietro breathed in and let time move around him and he walked into the city.
While he could just enter — he’d rather not have the upgraded security of Genosha (sadly absolutely necessary since the practical genocide and extinction of the nation) have everyone panicking of an unknown having invaded the nation.
And so, the speedster waits in the thankfully short line of people (whether immigrants or tourists) going into Genosha.
Finally, Pietro reaches the front of the line, and a purple-skinned person greets him with a smile. They look maybe mid to late twenties, but kind of have an androgynous fae look that honestly makes them look ageless in a way. Their long black hair is tied back, with strands of their dark silky hair curling around their handsome face, “Welcome to Genosha my fellow mutantkind. I’m Ira and will help you today.” They spoke with a full smile, their fangs poking out as they spoke.
They continued, their voice in sweet-customer service mood, but was rich and soothing to Pietro’s ears, “Do you have any documentation for your identity? If not, so worries, we can just have you fill out some paperwork. And after all the documentation is certified, we’ll scan your biometrics in order to verify your identity and you’ll be able to go through.”
The silver-haired mutant rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, and smiled sheepishly at the person — Ira — startled by their eyes that seemed to swirl with galaxies — absolutely memorizing, and Pietro had to peel himself away, lest he lost himself in those eyes.
“Um, I forgot my visa, but I have been here enough before that my biometrics should be saved in the system.” Pietro offered to the pretty person, trying not to blush as they stood up (and wow they were tall) and led him into the framework for scanning his body and whatnot.
Ira winked as the scanner roamed down his body, and casually asked with a bit of a purr in their voice, “So, are you here for business or pleasure?”
Pietro choked, “Um…”
He really was not prepared to be flirted with today, and if Pietro wasn’t just drowning in his depression about being alone, he probably would have flirted back a little and at least went on a date.
Wow, way to be a bummer Pietro. It’s not like he’s dying (Cause that’s apparently the one thing he can’t do anymore!).
Then, Pietro was shaken out of his thoughts when a robotic voice said, “Welcome back Prince Pietro Maximoff.”
Pietro grimaced at the title. His dad is just so extra sometimes.
Ira gaped in shock and practically scrambled over themself to apologize, “I am so sorry I didn’t recognize you, my Prince! Oh, and I was so inappropriate!”
And there goes any chance of ever having a date in Genosha. Thanks dad!
Pietro, though, quickly interrupted Ira, “Hey, no worries. It’s not like I come here all that often anyways, and I don’t exactly like the media taking pictures of me. Not that they’re fast enough too.” Pietro winked at that.
Ira blushed, making their skin a pretty dark purple, “I-um-have a good day!”
“I mean follow me!” Ira said, holding a door open and blushing hard.
Pietro smiled despite himself, “Will do gorgeous.”
Then, they led Pietro out of the room, their eyes practically glowing with stars as they looked at him.
“Here,” Ira said, smiling shyly as they walked out back into the open air, “Welcome back to Genosha my Prince.”
Pietro sighed again at the title, “Thank you Ira.”
“You’re welcome!” They blurted back and squeaked as they headed back towards their post.
Pietro sighed but smiled as the vibrant city welcomed him back.
It was full of mutant’s smiling and unhidden — proud and free to live in their own skins.
Vendors left and right with spices and mouth-watering treats beckoned him over — his stomach already growling at him.
Alight, guess he should eat after running all this way huh?
After practically engorging himself on delicious street food, Pietro found himself racing off to the freaking palace.
God, his dad is really something. Sure, he’s king, but c’mon.
Pietro thought of letting the guards stationed around the palace do their thing, but his dad likely already got the alert when he first came to the island that he’s here.
Guess, Pietro should really just get this over with, huh?
Pietro zoomed around the palace, taking his time (which for him was maybe a minute at the most) to find his dad.
There! Time slowed to a standstill as Pietro observed his father.
The man stood, staring out of his room’s balcony. His white hair gleaming like freshly fallen snow as the sunlight cascaded down upon him. He was dressed in simple, yet extravagant, maroon and gold robes. Still, to Pietro’s hopeful heart, his dad, while wrinkles lined his face, looked much younger than the seventy something odd years he was.
Maybe if Pietro is forced to live forever, he won’t be so alone. Sure, there's Logan, but this is his family. His dad.
The boy breathed in, and time resumed, and sound returned to its proper waves like a soothing call to his ears.
“Hey Dad.” Pietro called out, his voice just above a whisper.
Magnus whipped around alert before softening upon seeing his son, his blue eyes more akin to the sky than ice now, and the man gave a small smile, “Mein Sohn.”
Pietro set the silence settle in the air like honey — sweet and coy until it trapped flies in its embrace, souring the taste.
God, it really shouldn’t be this hard. C’mon Pietro, just speak, tell him what’s been on your mind. Except the words die in Pietro’s throat as he looks at those familiar blue eyes — Pietro’s eyes.
It’s like looking in a distorted mirror — a mirror that Pietro will never be. Aged with wrinkles and lined with muscles. Pietro will never wrinkle, and he simply will never be able to build up anything but lean muscle — not that Pietro wants to look like a body-builder’s wet dream (ugh, why did he just have to think that. That’s his dad. Gross thoughts!).
Pietro shook his head, and it seemed that Magnus got closer without his noticing. His dad’s hand hovering just above his shoulder, unsure if it’s okay to touch.
Pietro just nodded his head, tears lining his eyes, and he held his head down. God, he’s a mess.
Magnus’s eyes softened as he grasped Pietro’s shoulder gently, but firmly. “Pietro, what woes you?”
Pietro looked up to his father, and like a damn that broke, it all just came rushing out, “Dad,” he practically sobbed, “I’m not aging. I-I’m stuck forever at t-twenty! I’mgoingtolive andeveryoneisgoingtodie!”
Tears streamed down Pietro’s face, sobs building and building until he was gasping for breath.
The boy found his face pressed against his father’s chest — the strong beating heart welcoming Pietro home like a calming symphony of drums. It was safe and warm.
Magnus gripped his son tightly — never thinking of letting go, and whispered words of comfort in his sohn’s ear, even if Pietro was too out of it to remember any of the words. Still, the deep rumble could be heard — steady and strong and familiar.
Pietro didn’t know how long they stood like that, but eventually all his tears dried up and he found himself slumping exhausted in his dad’s embrace.
Magnus released a steady breath, “Piet, my dear. I will always be here.”
Pietro scoffed, his face full of his dried tears, and leaned back, “You don’t get it.”
“No?” Magnus said, his voice firm and his hold on his sohn’s arm tightening (but never ever harming), “It isn’t only your powers that have grown, mein Schatz. Don’t you think there’s a reason I look much younger than all my years?”
Pietro blinked up at his dad, a kind of hesitant hope burning in his eyes like a match just set to burn, “Are you-?” He couldn’t finish the words (couldn’t bring himself to extinguish his hope).
Magnus, though, did it for him, “I will never leave you behind, not for age or illness, mein Sohn.” Then, the man smiled, a bit of mischief in his gaze, “Besides, who else would I ever trust to look after you and feed that black hole that you call a stomach?”
Pietro found himself laughing, a bit high and manic, but still it was freeing to all the cloying emotions that were weighing him down.
Pietro found himself teasing, his heart light for once, “Now, I just need everyone here to stop referring to me as Prince and everything will be perfect. I don’t need such an obnoxious title. Just no thanks, man.”
Magnus laughed back, “Ah, but I’m King, so that makes you my little Prince.”
Pietro made a face, and it must have been rather funny cause his dad burst out laughing.
“Oh, Sohn.” Magnus said fondly, “Come here.”
Pietro rolled his eyes and did and found himself caught in another hug.
Magnus ran his fingers gently through his hair, while Pietro fell into his dad’s embrace.
Magnus placed a kiss, featherlight and soft, on Pietro’s brow, and whispered — his words full of promise and love, “Ich werde dich für immer und ewig lieben, mein Kind.”
I’ll love you forever and always, my child.