A Dark and Stormy Night

A Dark and Stormy Night Chapter Eight (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N I know, I know… I suck. It’s been too long. *kicks RL* Foxy is the Princess of Chopsticks, lol, and Uberbeta extraordinaire! Readers/Reviewers: *blush* I’m a bad, bad wickedy witch. Mea maxima culpa.

Wanda knew Pietro had done something, but for the life of her she could not figure out what it was. She found no amphibians in her dresser drawers, her food had a reasonable amount of salt in it and none of her drinks fizzed suspiciously. All of her paperwork for her lessons was in order with no lewd footnotes added while her back was turned and the cats that lived under the boxwood had all of their whiskers and fur and seemed untraumatized. For the life of her, Wanda could not figure out why Pietro was acting so smugly cagey. It was not until she was getting ready for bed, getting ready to pretend to go to bed, rather, before sneaking down the hall to Kurt’s room, did she realize just what was different. Tying her diaphanous robe as she practically flew down the hall, her short hair a halo of spikes and curls about her head from her hasty, distracted brushing, she pounded on her brother’s door, not giving him a chance to open it before storming in. “Where’s Kurt?”
“Huh?” Pietro was the picture of spoiled elegance, laying on the silk chaise set beneath the old fashioned Gothic revival window overlooking the expanse of lawn leading to the riverbank. The book dangling between his fingers, Wanda was willing to bet, was little more than a prop and he would not be able to tell her the first thing about it should she have been calm enough to quiz him. “Kurt?”
“You know who I mean. Don’t play dumb with me!” She grabbed the book from his long fingers and threw it across the room so that it knocked the art deco lamp to the floor, shattering the topless pastel mermaid. “Where is he?”
“I have no idea,” he answered honestly, smirking only slightly. “Why does it matter? Isn’t it curfew for you anyway, darling sister?”
Wanda growled, an honest to goodness guttural expression of outrage and anger from the depths of her being emanating as a low, dangerous sound that made Pietro’s eyes widen for the briefest moment, showing his fear, before narrowing again to studied indifference. “I swear to God, Pietro, if he’s hurt or…or…” she swallowed before saying it, “dead, I will skin you alive!”
Pietro moved then, quick and lithe as one of the cats outside. “Now, now… how would daddy dearest like it if he knew why you were so upset? Not because fuzz butt is missing but because your fuck buddy is missing.” He pushed his finger against Wanda’s collar bone, relishing the absolutely startled expression on her face. “Yeah, I know. I saw it all, you sick freak. Fucking someone who may as well be your brother… you were fucking raised with him, you disgusting…” Wanda’s punch caught him off guard, knocking him back several feet, making him stagger.
“He’s not my brother. He means more to me than my own brother ever would,” she spat, turning on her heel with the shards of her dignity at her feet as she strode to the door. “Mark my words, Pietro, when Father finds out…”
“What,” he growled, dabbing at the blood at the corner of his lips, “makes you think he doesn’t already know?”
Wanda was taken aback. “You lie,” she accused, trembling slightly. The moonlight spun silver webs through Pietro’s golden hair, making him seem almost angelic as he stared back at her, his expression inscrutable. “You’re the sick one! You’re the one who’s so jealous you can’t stand to see him happy!” She turned her back on him pointedly, trying to maintain a semblance of calm as she once again headed for the door. “You can’t hide the truth forever, Pietro. It’ll come out.”
He grinned. “Yeah, but it’s not gonna help anyone.”