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FILL - The Kids Are Alright - 2a/?

[anonymous]

Belatedly anon realised this title could be suggestive of the film of the same name. Not so! (Not that that would be a bad thing) It is simply a terribly clichéd reference to The Who song.

“I’m a professor,” Charles said as they joined the two moving men at the piano.

“Sorry?” Erik asked. He wasn’t quite awake enough to follow Charles’ conversation leaps.

“You were, ah, probably wondering what brings me to Oxford,” Charles said. Erik wondered for a moment at the way Charles had edited himself mid-sentence before nodding his agreement.

“Aren’t you a little young?” Erik asked as Charles braced himself at one end of the piano.

“I’m terribly smart,” Charles said with a smile. He jerked his head to his left and Erik joined him, looking for good handholds.

“And modest?” Erik asked, unable to stop himself. Charles retorted with another smile. Erik had never seen someone so free with their smiles.

“That too,” Charles said, nodding to the movers.

The four of them bent their knees and raised the piano slowly. Then began the peculiarly shuffling walk of four men desperately trying not drop something that was probably worth more than they earned in a year.

“My field is genetics,” Charles continued as they made their way cautiously up the path. “The mutations thereof, to be specific, and how they apply to evolution. Evolutionary genetic mutation, I suppose, would be the best way to put it.”

“Right,” Erik said, adjusting his grip slightly as they neared the door. “You’d be working at the Wellcome, then?”

“I have been lucky enough to secure a position there, yes,” Charles nodded, a trace of surprise in his voice. As if it was possible to live in Oxford and not know anything about the University buildings.

“They gave me my own department,” Charles added. “You go through the door first, gentlemen, I’ll guide you.”

“That must be nice for you,” Erik said as they manoeuvred the piano through the wide doorway. Charles laughed.

“There’s no need to pretend interest, my friend,” Charles said, shaking his head. “A little to the left please. Your other left! Raven calls me a bore often enough for me to believe it.”

“No, no,” Erik said, determined not to make a false impression on this ridiculously attractive man. “I’m sure it’s fascinating - but it really is too early in the morning.”

“Well, I - thank you,” Charles said, suddenly flustered. He coughed and looked away from Erik. “Perhaps we could discuss it over a pint or five some time. I’m reliably informed I’m a good speaker.”

“I’m not surprised,” Erik said, mostly to himself, but Charles laughed again and nudged him companionably with a shoulder. Erik fought down a blush and focused on the house.

The hallway was a lot wider than his own, his footsteps echoing on dark wooden floorboards, but light and airy owing to a skylight far above them. Plush carpeted stairs climbed up to the first floor, bordered by an ornate carved banister.

“Through here please,” Charles said to the movers, indicating with his head the wide entrance of the front room. “Raven likes the idea of entertaining,” he added to Erik. “She’s a fine player but I fear if you’re looking for old-fashioned sentiments you need look no further than her concept of the professorial life. She watches too many films.”

Erik had half hoped Charles was the player, sparing a brief thought for those fingers caressing the keys, and in a way it surprised him that it was Raven.

“She gives off a studied air of energy,” Charles said as they set the piano in one corner of the room. “That will do, gentlemen, I’m sure Erik won’t mind helping me shift it when Raven eventually decides where she wants it.”

The movers returned to their lorry and Charles brushed a hand over the lid of the piano.

“The piano is one of the few things my sister allows herself to be patient about,” Charles said, tilting a half smile up at Erik. “You should hear her play sometime.”

“I’d like that,” Erik said, honestly.