Kooks

Erik Lehnsherr was breathing into a paper bag outside the infirmary, head swimming with way too many thoughts.

Peter was his son.

Peter was his son!

He had a son!

Now the thought was in his head, Erik couldn't stop noticing things, like the fact that his and Peter's noses were similar, or the way Peter's grin looked like his father’s or the way Peter had the same fidgeting habit as his mother and so much more. The way Peter would wrinkle his nose was like Nina, the way he would start leaning on the person nearest to him when he was tired like Anya, and the way he got protective over his friends - even during small matters - that Erik recognized all too well.

The paper bag wasn't helping with his panic.

He felt like throwing up. Why hadn't he known? He should have realized!

And Peter was in the infirmary. Again. For an injury Erik could have prevented. AGAIN!

Hank stepped out of the infirmary.

"He's fine, just shaken."

Erik nodded, every cell in his body feeling relief and nothing but.

"He's asking for you." Hank said and walked off to get coffee or something else that Erik didn't care about.

He stumbled up and rushed into the room like a fussy mother goose.

“Peter!” he exclaimed, seeing his son – his SON – sitting up in bed.

“Hi.” Peter said quietly. And then: “Okay, so I totally told you that you’re my dad and that’s great because I wanted to tell you but not like that and I also don’t want you to feel pressured to be my dad because I am basically an adult and you didn’t know about our relation to each other and –“

Erik simply pulled him into a hug. He had a son. A living, breathing son with ten fingers and ten toes.

“Oh,” Peter said, hugging back almost robotically, still unsure. “This is nice.”

Erik let out a teary laugh, pulling his son closer to him, heart full of emotion.

“I thought you wouldn’t be happy.”

And if ever there were words that could break Erik’s heart right then and there, those could.

“Why would you think that?” Dad mode fully activated, Erik pulled back and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Well, I’m me.” Peter said.

Erik frowned.

“I talk all the time, dude! I never stop. I know it annoys the crap out of you. And I don’t really do homework. I started that because I thought you might like me more as an upstanding member of society. I don’t know why you’re still here honestly. It’s near impossible for me to get good grades because I can’t sit still. Oh yeah, that sucks too!” Peter said, listing off the negatives as if it was common knowledge. “And I skipped school for several years so I’m a fucking idiot. I can’t do most questions! And so many other things.”

He sighed, pulling his knees to his chest sullenly.

“Peter,” Erik said, “You’re not stupid. I never finished high school.”

“You had a good reason.” Peter muttered, and then realizing the adjective, “I mean terrible but-“

Erik shook his head, trying to dissuade any panic. “I understand. Why did you skip?”

Peter looked down and began to fidget. He muttered something unintelligible.

“What was that?” Erik asked.

“Bullies.” He sounded so small.

Another Dagger in Erik’s heart. Another thing he should have protected Peter from.

“That’s a perfectly valid reason to not want to go. I assume no one did anything to help you.”

Peter shook his head.

Erik sighed and continued, heart hurting.  “You’re a smart boy, Peter. You do talk a lot, but it’s rarely something uninteresting. And it gives everyone here something to cling to when they’re down. And it doesn’t annoy me when you speak. It makes me feel welcome. Like, there’s still a place for me in all this. Like, I can be your father. And for the record, I don’t care if you get good or bad grades as long as you try. I’ll be proud either way.”

“Like you would hang a report card full of F’s and D’s on the fridge.” Peter sniffled.

“I’m reserving a space on it as we speak.” Erik said, earnestly. He needed a fridge, but that was a minor detail.

Peter sniffed and chuckled weakly. “You actually want me?”

Erik nodded firmly. “You’re my son. Of course I want you.”

He had his arms full of sobbing teenager in less that point five seconds.

“You actually want to be my dad?” Peter asked, tears pouring down his cheeks and hopeful smile stretched across his face.

“More than anything.” Erik replied honestly, knowing he looked similar.

Peter clung to him, hiding his face in his father’s shoulder. Erik rubbed circles on his back.

“If you get C’s we can get ice cream.” Erik joked, between his tears of joy.

“Pardon,” Charles’ voice nearly interrupted the moment. “Is everything alright?”

Turning to face him with a big sharky grin on his face, Erik proudly said. “I have a son, Charles. This is my son!”

A few months later, there was a rather ugly fridge. There was nothing special about it. It was rather inconspicuous.

Noticeably however, there was a report card attached to it with numerous band magnets. It was full of C's and one B.

There was a small ice-cream stain on the left side.