Lance and Pietro, BH Party

[ax_brotherhood]

Lance discovers a new beer. Pietro throws down a challenge. Spoiler alert: happy ending implied >.>

Just because Pietro had hidden the Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale from everyone and was now bringing a bottle to Lance didn't mean that he'd gotten it specifically for Lance. He just didn't want these Xavier's losers to ruin his chances of introducing Lance to something a little finer than Budweiser or whatever crap that guy drank all the time. And Pietro had gone to a lot of trouble to find a happy medium between decent whisky and good beer. And this was it. Even he liked it, and it wasn't his kind of thing at all.

So that was all. It wasn't like Lance was special or anything. It was just a thing that Lance would like but the Xavier's Kids didn't deserve. Yeah. That.

"Hey." Pietro strolled up behind Lance and held out a bottle. He kept one for himself, even--a rare occurrence, to see him with a beer. Never hit hard enough. Made him have to pee too soon. Annoying all around. "Try this, Vestguy McHotAbs. It might change your life."

Lance knew Pietro's sass before he ever turned around, but he spent one more second surveying the room, mostly just to fuck with the speedster. When he turned around, he frowned at the sight of the bottle in Pietro's hand. "What the hell is this?"

Pietro knew what the jerk was doing, so stood tapping his foot. Then he said, "Beer, dumbass. Beer that actually tastes good. It's bourbon barrel aged."

Lance narrowed his eyes. "One of those fancy expensive kinds?"

"I promise it's not fruity or anything." Pietro rolled his eyes and held out the beer farther. "Just try it. You'll thank me. Profusely. Repeatedly."

"Isn't that usually you?" Lance taunted, but reached for the beer, knowing that Pietro wouldn't stop until he at least gave it a try.

"Yes, which is why I don't understand your dislike for fruity drinks," Pietro pointed out with a smirk. "You like me just fine. But hey."

Lance didn't answer that one, lifting the bottle to his lips. And fuck, he hated to admit that Pietro was right about anything, but it was good. Better than good, really. Still, he just rolled one shoulder and glanced back at the crowd. "It's alright."

Pietro moved to stand beside him, shoulder to shoulder. Casually, he slid a hand into one of Lance's back pockets--so no one in front of them would see, but Lance would certainly feel. It wasn't a PDA. It was a public grope. He sipped at his own beer and--for beer--it was fucking awesome, yes. That beautiful, bourbon nose on it. "You can do better than that."

"Well, it's not as good as you," Lance huffed under his breath.

"True." Pietro gave his ass a good squeeze and grinned. "I mean, nothing is, though. Still, if you're into that, you might like bourbon. You can drink that and still work the angry manly man angle."

"Who said I'm... what?" Lance asked, shooting a dark look at him. "What the fuck, Maximoff, are you kidding me? I'm angry, not a neanderthal. We can't all be lollipops and sparkles," he snorted.

"Okay, okay, don't get your panties in a twist." Pietro pulled his hand out of the pocket and smacked his ass. "And I'm not fruity I'm just fun. Look at us, talking about our inner selves."

Lance rolled his eyes. "Let's stop. Please. I already feel naked enough out here." Then he paused, realizing how that sounded, given his choice of attire. "I meant with us hosting the fucking school-kids."

Pietro looked Lance up and down with exaggerated slowness--for him. Smirking. "Yeah, they've seen more than enough of you already. Me, on the other hand... just you wait' til we get rid of these fools."

Lance’s lips twitched into a brief, smirking grin. Then he took another sip of the beer to wipe it off his face. “Can we get rid of them now?”

Pietro scanned the crowd again, considering. "No. But, I could probably help you relax a little. Make the next few hours more pleasant." He shot Lance a wicked look. "If you can beat me at jenga."

Yeah. This was one of those rare situations where Pietro wanted to lose. But that didn't mean he wasn't gonna cheat.

That earned him a sly look. A game where shit fell down? That was just asking to lose, around Lance. "You must really want your ass whipped tonight."

"Mmm, I'd consider it." Pietro looked Lance up and down one more time, as slowly as he could. "But not at Jenga."

Then he turned and walked, deliberately, normal-paced, to the huge Jenga set up.

Following, Lance took a sip of his beer and eyed the massive wood-pile. "It had to be neon, didn't it?"

"Uh, yeah, I didn't spend all this effort to coordinate the theme and style of this party just to let jenga, of all things, fuck it up. I'm soooo much better than that." Pietro grinned. Then he snapped to the side of the wooden tower and slipped out a piece from somewhere in the middle. He'd spent plenty of effort sanding these little wooden bitches to make that possible, too.

Then he snapped back to Lance's side and gave him a clandestine smack on the ass with the wood to get him moving. "Your turn!"

Lance paused, narrowing his eyes at Pietro. It had no heat behind it, though. If anything, he struggled to keep a small grin off of his lips. He loved seeing Pietro all competitive and happy. Shit had been so fucked up and tense at the club lately...this was a good break.

“Don’t you need to put your wood up top, Quickie?” He taunted the shorter teen with a smirk.

Within another flash, the wood was perched at the top of the stack and Pietro was back beside Lance, arms crossed over his chest, trying to repress a grin of his own and failing miserably.

Lance's lips twitched, but he put his beer down and swaggered toward the stack, taking his time. Let Pietro wait and watch. Eying the stack, he tilted his head, then pulled one of the planks from nearish the bottom, setting it on top to counterbalance.

Pietro enjoyed watching the swagger. Oh, he enjoyed it a lot. What he didn't enjoy was the part where Lance drew out his turn. He tapped his foot impatiently until the very moment Lance's piece settled on top of the tower, then he zipped up and chose his own from the middle again. As he set it on top, he said, "You would pick from the bottom."

"What's wrong with that?" Lance hummed, moving to take one from the middlish-bottom again.

"It speeds up utter destruction." Pietro watched with his hands on his hips, smirking slightly. "Almost like you can't wait to knock something over..."

"That's because I can't," Lance told him, pulling the brick and turning to give a smirk over his shoulder before placing it up top.

"Cant wait for me to knock it over? Or for you to?" Because if Lance knocked it over, Pietro wasn't giving him what he had in mind until after the party. He wasn't one to deny himself, but a challenge was a challenge...

He snapped to the tower, removed one from the middle, and set it on top. Thanks to Lance's nonsense, the thing was already getting a little wobbly. Pietro might have to make this a little harder...

"Let's be honest, it's always going to be me," Lance told him, letting the floor rumble just slightly beneath their feet.

"Because you're a cheater?" Pietro asked, well aware of the irony in that question. "Or because you're going to lose? Because if you lose, you know, you forfeit the winner's spoils..."

Lance paused, his beer halfway to his lips. "What are the winner's spoils?"

Pietro smiled sweetly. “Said I’d help you relax. Fifteen minutes in the nearest dark closet... I mean it won’t take that long but we might as well enjoy...” His gaze dropped to Lance’s abs. “Assuming you win.” His gaze dropped lower. The smile was no longer remotely sweet.

"Fucker," Lance cursed softly. Trust Pietro to try and make the stupid game intense. "How do I know you won't cheat?"

"Who me?" Pietro batted his eyelashes. "Orrrrr... we could just play mutant rules. Using your powers is fair game?"

It'd be easy for Lance to make him lose that way. Which was of course what he wanted. Even if he was pretending it wasn't.

So Pietro did want to lose. Powers could only help Lance in this situation. Speed was not necessarily a boon with a game like Jenga. He took another swallow of the (okay, really good) beer. "Sure? Why not." He'd been planning to, anyway.

Pietro gestured for Lance to make his move, smirking. "Then by all means. Show me what you got."

The tower was already looking a little dangerous. Lance eyed it carefully. He had to survive through this move if he wanted to kick Pietro out of it on his next turn. That meant making sure Pietro didn't fuck him up while he did. He gave a quick glance around to see if anyone was watching, then he squeezed a handful of the speedster's ass on his way to the tower. Maybe that would keep him distracted? No. Something else. "You got the closet picked out?" he asked, then moved to pull one of the blocks from the most stable middle section.

Pietro whizzed by, causing a stiff breeze that ruffled Lance's hair and... yep. The tower was swaying slightly. Then he whizzed back to appear at Lance's side. The tower swayed again. Lance's hair settled. Pietro said, still wearing that insufferable smirk. "Now I do. Buuuuut you gotta win first."

"Shit!" Lance cursed, watching the tower sway, the block still in his hands. He rolled his eyes at Pietro, then waited until it seemed to settle before carefully setting the block up top. "Oh, I'm gonna win."

“Are you tho?” Pietro cocked one eyebrow and as slowly as he could make himself, reached out to pluck a plank from the middle...

"You know I am," Lance grinned at him. And just as Pietro pulled the block free, the tower wobbled and shook a little, then slowly toppled sideways in a spray of neon logs.

Before the first piece of wood even hit the ground, Pietro had a whole list of things he was going to do to and for Lance in that broom closet. The fucking tower couldn't topple fast enough, but he stood there, hands on his hips, watching and smirking.

Then, finally, he looked at Lance with his best faux-innocent expression. "I guess you win." Ha, no. They both won. Obviously.

Pietro grabbed Lance's hand and tugged him toward the closet of choice.