It didn’t take long for Erik Lehnsherr to adjust to Atlantis, to family, to certain mutants and their peculiar living situation. He may have been wearing a tracking bracelet but he was, inescapably, adaptable. Perhaps that was why he walked into Billy’s bar with the air of someone who had frequented the establishment and understood the codified rules of the place.
Sliding into a corner stool, he watched carefully for the boy to appear. While he hadn’t approached with the blatancy of Polaris or some of the other network commenters, he did seem familiar in that same familial sort of sense. And if Logan was to, at all those times, be believed? There were many timelines with him at different points of his life. It made sense to have children and even, he supposed, grandchildren.
What he wanted, more than anything, was a drink. With a raised hand he attempted to flag a bartender over.
“Gin.”
Billy slid his latest cocktail creation -- a mojito with green smoke -- across the bar to a boy with very, very green hair. "Really, really love the hair," he said, before moving on down the bar. As he pulled out a cider for another boy, he saw Erik at the corner of the bar, looking for all the world like he belonged there. Billy paused and almost turned in the opposite direction. He had forgotten that he'd invited the older man to his work, to a gay bar of all places. He'd forgotten, too, to maybe mention that they were family, sort of. Why did his life have to be so damn complicated?
What he wanted more than anything was for his life to maybe, maybe make sense for once. Not that that was an explicit wish that he was willing to make. He knew how those things usually turned out for him.
"Gin, was it?" he asked, pulling down a middle-range bottle and pouring out three fingers worth. He slid the glass across the bar, adding a few signature sparkles as he did so. "I didn't think you'd come." Way to be awkward, Kaplan. "I mean, not that it's weird that you are here or anything."
Erik caught the glass handily and let his arched brow illustrate his curiosity. “The Erik you know. He’s less domesticated, I assume?” From Billy’s brief interaction he had sussed out that it was likely very weird that he was here. And he wanted to follow the line of questioning further, but instead it made better sense to learn more about the young man in front of him.
“Nevermind that. So you’re Billy.”
"Domesticated is one word for it." Billy leaned an elbow on the bar, keeping one eye out on the rest of his customers. "I haven't seen other you in awhile. Last I heard, he was working with the X-Men." He kept his voice neutral. Billy didn't have much love for the X-Men, not after the whole 'no more mutants' issue (thanks, Mom), but he didn't want to press the issue further. He didn't know this version of Magneto, but he knew well enough that he didn't want to discuss mutant politics with any Magneto at work.
He sighed melodramatically. "That's me. How much backstory have you got since being here?"
Erik let his lips thin briefly -- “Yes. I suppose we both have an affinity to dance along that hyphen.” Then, leaning forward, he took a quick sip of his gin and smiled. Strong, botanical, just the right amount of edge. Billy’s next question intrigued him, though. There was something (relatively large) the young man seemed to be leaving out.
“You’re with Teddy. There is a connection to Ms. Maximoff. That’s where I am.”
"Ah," Billy paused, tracing circles with condensation on the bar, "Ms. Maximoff is my mom." The words came out all in a rush, as though he had to say them before he lost his nerve. Way to play it cool,, he thought. "I mean, not this universe's Ms. Maximoff. It's -- complicated. Just like you're not my world's Ma -- um, Erik. Do you want me to call you Erik? This is weird." He looked up at the older man, wondering if spontaneous combustion were a thing -- like, a thing that he could do right now.
Erik smiled. “If it’s easier to call me Magneto, I don’t mind. It’s just …” He wasn’t sure if he’d need the persona yet. In being diplomatic he thought his birth name would be more palatable to non-Mutant ears. But his mind started catching up to what Billy was saying. So much so, that he leaned forward and caught him by the wrist.
“You’re … you’re my grandson.” In another universe. But still.
"I don't know if it's easier. You're kind of…" He didn't know how to say supervillain without saying supervillain. "Let's go with Erik, okay?" As he said this, Billy almost pulled his wrist back at the contact. "Um, yes, sort of. You're like my alternate reality grandpa…" He smiled slowly. "This is weird, right?"
“It isn’t that weird,” he said slowly. Erik had understood that his timeline had been redirected, understood the multiverse and had accepted that there were other hims in other universes. He was just fascinated enough to smile and lean forward on his elbows. There was the general bloviation about all mutants being family of some kind.
“You admit this to me and realise I’m going to expect regular time with you.” He paused. “Which can, I know, be fraught.”
"Right." Billy paused. This was definitely weird. He had been across the multiverse, created his own universe, and now this. Nothing really prepared you for this. "I don't think that'll be a problem. I've dealt with much, much worse than enforced family time." He picked up a glass, wiping it clean, so that he could do something, anything with his hands. "I should point out that our family history definitely requires, like, a flowchart."
“I’m comfortable with flowcharts and tenuous connections,” he admitted and leaned his weight upon his elbows. He thought briefly of Nina and Magda; his lost family and then, his chosen family. Why should this boy not be an easy addition to the collection that was his?
“ … however graphically you might like to organize it.”
"Ah, well, in that case -" he raised the empty glass - "cheers to complicated family, um, gramps?" He grimaced at the attempted nickname. "Okay, you're definitely not old enough to be a gramps. I think I'll stick with Erik."
Erik smiled and raised his glass in salute. “Cheers.” He felt older than his years; he tried to remember the two (three?) realities he’d crossed. He couldn’t imagine the breadth and depth of Billy’s timeline.
“Erik will be fine.”
"Good, because calling you grandpa would be really weird." He smiled. "How about another round gin on the house? Family discount."