Anyway... beginning of a really strange Lance/Pietro.
Here There Be Tygers
The room was quiet, deathly quiet, and the air was musty. Every surface of every piece of furniture was coated with a fine layer of silvery dust, the same dust that twirled its way from ceiling to floor, spotlighted gracefully by slivers of mid-afternoon sunlight trickling in through the blinds.
Lance Alvers disturbed the mausoleum-quiet with his heavy footsteps as he strode across creaking floorboards. "Beautiful," he murmured, gingerly lifting an old sheet off of an even older painting, "It's so-"
"Creepy." A voice intoned solemnly behind him. "This is just weird."
Lance didn't even turn around. "Don't be stupid. It's just an attic."
"Well, it's a creepy attic," Pietro Maximoff tiptoed behind Lance, placed a gentle hand on the elder boy's lower back, and pressed his face into the warm neck before him. He began to mutter to himself, words muffled by the collar of Lance's t-shirt. "Y'know, what if somebody died here? Or if there's some monster that lives in the corners and eats fish heads? I mean, Mystique had to have boarded up the door for a reason…"
"Yeah, and maybe it was one of those creepy, Mystique reasons like 'I don't want you damn kids going up there making a big, huge mess that I'd have to clean up'." Lance tossed a smile over his shoulder at Pietro, who glowered at him from the comfortable resting place of Lance's neck.
"Oh, would you relax?" Lance lifted an arm and put it affectionately around his lover's shoulder. The other boy snorted.
"Relax… that's a good one." But, despite his cynicism, Pietro allowed Lance to pull him into an embrace in front of the enigmatically covered portraiture. "I don't relax and you know it."
"Mmmmm," Lance hummed, lazily enjoying the warmth of another body against his own skin, "Just like a hummingbird."
"Yeah," Pietro rolled his eyes and shifted his weight from foot-to-foot, taking Lance with him. The movement caused the floor to creak ominously. "Exactly like a hummingbird. I live off of sugar water, did you know that?"
Lance smiled, eyes closed and chin resting on the crown of Pietro's head. "Well, I wouldn't be surprised…" The two swayed for a moment, close and secure. Lance opened one eye and stared thoughtfully into the oil painted eyes of a firm, grandmotherly noblewoman. "I've missed being alone with you…" he mused aloud.
Pietro raised his head and stole a glance at the picture. "Me or her?"
With a laugh, Lance took Pietro's hands in his own and spun them both around the room in a mockery of formal ballroom dancing. Around and around they went until, with a theatrical flourish, he gave the smaller boy a final turn and forced him into a low dip. "You, of course."
Stretching his head back so that he could get a good view of the room from an upside down position, Pietro smiled. "Of course." He let Lance pull him back into a standing position before allowing his grin to fade. "I've missed you, too."
"Well, everything's been… hectic," Lance's cheeks pinked slightly as Pietro's hands circled his waist and began a leisurely exploration. "What with school… a-and Tabby… and Mystique disappearing on us…"
"Shame on her," Pietro purred, lowering his eyelids so the tips of his lashes flirted with the peaks of his delicate cheekbones. Extending his neck and raising himself up onto his toes, he teasingly let his lips brush against Lance's. "Shame, shame, shame." Then, without warning, he tangled his wandering fingers in Lance's hair and forcefully pushed their lips together in a desperate kiss.