This is just a fun little one-shot I was absolutely dying to write after watching DOFP. Hope you like it!

"Petey, who's that man on the TV?"

Peter Maximoff shifted his baby sister to his other knee as he sat cross-legged on the carpet in front of the television, fixated on the screen. "Just a second, Lorna."

As he watched, a dark-suited man whose face was recognizable all over the globe stumbled forward to face the mutant who'd just levitated a baseball stadium onto the White House lawn.

"Is that President Nixon, Petey?" Lorna tugged on his shirt. "Petey?"

"Yes, Lorna," he replied absentmindedly. He was (for once) one hundred percent focused, staring worriedly at the man in the helmet and cape. Magneto.

I just broke this guy out of the most secure facility in the world, and now he's going to kill the President in a freaking Superman costume.

Peter had seriously screwed up this time.

Suddenly, the President's form shimmered, and then a naked chick covered in what looked like blue body paint was standing in his place. Peter's eyes widened. "Holy sh-"

"Peter, language," a voice interrupted. It was his mother. She was hovering anxiously in the doorway to the kitchen, a mug of cold tea in her hands. She, too, had taken an uncharacteristic interest in the news today. "Could you take Lorna..."

Peter grabbed his little sister and, hugging her to his chest, bounded up the stairs and set her down next to her dollhouse, pausing only to grab a box of donuts on the way. Then he quickly resumed his spot on the floor. Fortunately, he hadn't missed anything, as he'd only been gone for a millisecond or so.

"...upstairs, please?" his mom finished.

Peter stuffed a few donuts in his mouth. "Done."

Ms. Maximoff set her mug down on the coffee table, looking apprehensive. "Thank you, dear. Now, why are you so concerned with that man on TV?"

Eyes glued to the screen, Peter didn't respond.

Suddenly his mother strode in front of him, hands on her hips. She angrily picked up the remote and switched off the television. "Peter! Pay attention when I'm talking to you, young man!"

"Oh. Sorry, mom." Having already emptied the box of donuts, he zipped down to the basement and rifled through his stash. Popping open a can of soda, he sped back to the living room before his mom could notice. "What were you saying?"

"I was just asking you - where did you get that soda?"

Peter quickly hid it behind his back. "What soda?"

"I could have sworn I saw... oh never mind." Ms. Maximoff shook her head, exasperated. She sat down on the couch and started to pat the spot next to her, but Peter was already there. Undeterred, she grasped his hand, effectively trapping him in place. "What do you know about the man on the news?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, I don't know anything about him," he said immediately. His mom appeared confused, a look he was used to getting, so he repeated himself as slowly as he could bear: "I... don't... know... anything." One leg bounced up and down nervously.

Why did people always need everything to be so painfully slowed down? It was horribly boring. Peter had learned from experience that it took adults ages to process anything, whether it was the latest celebrity scandal or an impending mutant apocalypse.

His mother sighed. "I know something's up. This is the first time I've seen you concentrate on anything for longer than a couple seconds, other than when you caught your sister with her boyfriend."

"When I kicked him out of the house, you mean? Come on, Wanda can do better than that asshole-"

"Language!" Ms. Maximoff reprimanded.

"Did someone say my name?" His twin was at the top of the staircase, peering over the railing in rumpled pajama shorts and bunny slippers. "Pete, if you're teasing Jimmy again, you'll have bad luck for a week."

"Wanda, dear, we never use our gifts on family!" his mother admonished, while Peter rolled his eyes.

"Don't tell me you're still sore about that."

Wanda stalked down the stairs, tossing her thick tangle of hair over her shoulder. "You tied his shoelaces together. How could I forget?"

"Anyway," his mother said loudly. "Peter, answer my question, please."

He fidgeted awkwardly with his Walkman. "Okay, fine, so I've seen him before. Me and a few friends, we, uh, ran into him a while ago."

"You don't have any friends," his sister commented, raising an eyebrow.

He glared at her. "I made new ones."

His mom looked skeptical as well. "The anchorman said that this man has been in prison for the past several years."

"Yeah. We ran into him... in prison."

Wanda snorted out loud.

"Okay, okay!" Peter ran a hand through his hair. "I might have maybe helped with his current, not-in-prison situation."

His mother gasped. "Peter!"

"Aw, come on, Mom! It was a chance to break into the Pentagon! Who could turn that down?"

Wanda almost choked on her bubblegum. "You broke into the freaking Pentagon and you didn't tell me?" She punched him on the shoulder. "But Petey, you know I would've wanted to come!"

"Wanda! Don't encourage him!"

"I only did it because the people who asked me to help - you know, that British guy with his nerd friend and the bodybuilder on steroids - they're like us!" He paused, then amended, "Well, not exactly. The stuff we can do is a million times cooler. But the buff dude, he has these freaky retractable claws coming out of his hands. And the British guy, Charles-"

Ms. Maximoff waved a hand. "That's beside the point. You freed a dangerous terrorist from prison! Peter, this is far more serious than stealing a couple hundred Twinkies from the grocery store!"

"I didn't know he was dangerous!" Well, Magneto had supposedly killed President Kennedy, but Peter only learned that after he broke him out of his cell. "He seemed totally chill, Mom. He can control metal, just like that guy you used to know."

At this, his mother's face blanched, and she let go of his hand. Relieved, Peter leaped up from the couch, but before he could take a lap around the block to let off some steam, Wanda grabbed his shoulder. "Preventative action," she whispered with a shrug when he scowled at her.

"I'm aware of his abilities, actually." Ms. Maximoff wrung her apron in her hands, looking even more anxious than usual. "But Peter... what if the police find out? The sheriff is already looking for a reason to turn us all in."

"That's Wanda's fault, not mine," he said immediately. "She was the one who kept making his car keys disappear after he busted me for egging Principal Mackey's house."

His twin opened her mouth to object, but his mother held up a hand. "All I want to say is, next time you get the urge to do something illegal, please ask permission first."

Peter grinned, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. "Got it. Can I go now?" This conversation was taking way too long. He probably could have traveled to DC and back in this amount of time, even if he took a break in the middle to tour all seventeen or so Smithsonian museums and steal the Declaration of Independence.

Hmm. That would look quite nice on his bedroom wall, actually.

"Wait." Wanda's grip on his shoulder tightened. "Mom, what aren't you telling us?"

His mother got even paler. "I don't know what you mean, dear."

"Yeah, what are you talking about?" Peter muttered in her ear.

Wanda didn't ask him to repeat himself, and he loved that about her. She was the only one who understood him even when he spoke at what his seventy-year-old French teacher considered a "downright unholy speed, mon dieu."

Pulling Peter closer to her, Wanda hissed back, "She's totally hiding something. Can't you tell?" Then she pasted a bright smile on her face and slung an arm around his shoulders. "Come on, Mom. Whatever it is, you can trust us. We're practically adults now."

Their mother let out a pained sigh. "This wasn't the way I planned on telling you..." She glanced back at the television set. "Well, I suppose circumstances have changed a bit. Maybe everyone should sit down."

"Good idea!" Wanda dragged a protesting Ms. Maximoff into the kitchen and perched on the edge of the counter. "Should someone fetch..."

"Lorna?" Peter reappeared with his baby sister tucked under one arm, still clutching a Barbie doll. "I've got her."

Wanda hoisted Lorna into her lap, and Ms. Maximoff settled onto a chair. Peter hovered next to them, trying his best not to fidget.

"Well," their mother began. "You know that man I told you about once, who can manipulate magnetic fields? The person on TV... well, it's... it's the same..." Flustered, she ran a hand through her hair. "Let me start over. You see, I never did tell you much about our, um, family history, and I dare say it's about time that I... Oh, I should never have agreed to this!" She stood up suddenly, sending the chair toppling back. Peter easily caught it and righted it before it could hit the floor.

"Mother." Wanda gave her the kind of look that Peter suspected snobby teenage girls spent hours perfecting in the mirror. "If this is family related, we deserve to know."

Lorna, though she clearly had no idea what was going on, nodded vigorously in agreement, as did Malibu Barbie.

"Of course." Ms. Maximoff sat down again. "Okay. Well..."

"Just say it," Peter advised. "Like ripping off a band-aid."

"Right." She drew in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and said quickly, "Erik Lehnsherr is your father."

There was a brief moment of stunned disbelief.

Then it was as if everything else faded away. Peter dimly registered Wanda's gasp, Lorna's innocent question ("Our daddy is the man on the TV?"), and his mother holding her head in her hands.

Erik Lehnsherr is your father.

Anger, elation, shock, panic, a sense of betrayal, more anger. There was only one way to sum up the situation. "Holy shit."

A long silence passed.

Then his mother said timidly, "Language, dear."