Twice the telepath?
Characters: Les Charles groovy_mutation and excessivehubris
When: Late Friday Night/Early Saturday Morning
Where: X-House
What: Sometimes you need to hug yourself
Open or Closed? Open to inhabitants of X-House
Rating/Warnings G for OMG FLUFF
One problem in living in perpetual darkness with no clocks was an inability to have a universal period of wakefulness and sleep time.
Not that it really mattered to Charles; sleep had never been a loyal companion, fickle in its attentions. He noted that most of the minds in the house seemed to be asleep, which was a relief. Charles had actually tried coming over earlier but the pressure and weight of the others had been too much and he’d retreated.
He felt a momentary twinge of apology for the lateness of the hour, then cast out a deliberate tendril.
"Charles?"
He doesn't know how late it is, and honestly he'd stopped trying to figure it out, but Charles had managed to drift off. Aided by alcohol, as was usual for him back home, Charles had managed to sleep for a few hours before the mental touch woke him.
A sleepy little tendril in response is what he gives himself, as he sits up in bed, rubbing at his eyes.
"... yes? Is there something I can do for you, Charles?" It was strange at first to call each other the same name back and forth, but he'd gotten used to it by now.
It was more a feeling of apology for waking him, a jumble of why he was poking at him now instead of when everybody was awake. After considering and discarding a couple polite conversational gambits, Charles shoved his hands in his pockets and tilted his head at the door.
Talk?
It was why he was here and he felt little point in offering himself subterfuge. There was also a sense of dropping the pretense of appearance as there were no ‘proper’ words wrapped around the response.
Lonely? Yes it was a question, because he knows how it can be, Charles. All the people in the room and you might as well be sitting alone.
Sending reassurances that he's done nothing wrong, that it was alright, Charles will get up and pad through the 'house' to go let Charles in. He had no reason not to, and besides if he needed someone Charles felt that it was only right to give him that.
Perhaps they both needed it, they understood one another in that respect. The loneliness. Even with Raven around growing up, even going to school with everyone around him. It was easier to be alone, to not hear everything.
A little. Sometimes. He'll answer, and open the door, wearing draw string night pants, bare footed, blanket drapped around himself. There was no well put together Charles here right now, disheveled and tired, and even in the sleep he had gotten it had hardly been the best.
"Mm, shall we go sit?" A hand wave towards the 'living room', the couch and such things waited for them, but mostly the couch.
No worries, Charles. Charles had attempted to self sooth with a bath, changing accordingly into a t-shirt and sweat pants before he’d gone to crawl into bed. Only to crawl right out of it as he decided to come talk to himself and while he’d remembered socks on his feet, probably would have done better to put on shoes and he still needed to acquire a jacket.
Oh well, it doesn’t seem to bother him beyond having his hands in the pockets of his sweats as he gives himself an owlish blink. Charles doesn’t even bother with a verbal response at the moment; it seems like too much effort and tied to the idea of ‘putting on appearances’ which he’s not interested in. Talking, trying to distinguish between a thought and a spoken word is always a strain.
Instead he nods and slips past himself and into the lower level of the clock tower.
Such a small space, every emotion feels amplified and out of proper perspective, his mental touch a tumble of words but as if they were colored with emotions, in this case, the idea of too extreme. He moved to sit down on the couch, though he sat forward, as if expecting to be admonished, though his mind is open.
Makes keep a safe distance … exhausting. Not just talking about his wild telepathy here, self. He knows … how much energy goes into keeping up the dance of normalcy for those looking in. Those looking for the perfect Xavier family, unwilling to even entertain the idea that Sharon is falling down drunk most of the time. No, no, have to be perfect!
It always worried him, how Charles seemed to sometimes forget simple things. Like shoes. Or eating. Mostly the eating.
Watching himself sit on the couch, the way he sat, the thoughts brushing against his own mind... he wanted to protect him. To protect himself. He knew it was already too late to fix their childhood, to reverse the pain and suffering they went through. But all he can do is walk up to Charles, fingers brushing through his hair gently.
It's okay now. It's just us, Charles. We don't have to pretend to be anything for each other. Though the memories of his mother falling about drunkenly do make him frown a bit, before he'll sit down, watching himself. A hand brushes through his own hair, a mess, mused from tossing and turning in his sleep.
"Can't sleep?" A question he already knows the answer to, but he feels the need to ask it any way.
With the advent of River, Charles was genuinely trying to do better in terms of eating healthier; being generally more aware of the dangers of the city around him but it was so hard. The constant pressure of all the minds, the internal mental distractions he used to keep a sense of self, some days it took precedence over trivial matters like eating or remembering that it was cold out.
The touch to his hair and his mind had him glancing up and over with a small but warm smile and then a knowing eyebrow.
Neither of us do, he said, wrapping the words in a gentle blanket of easy acceptance. He wasn’t here looking for anything from Charles. Not in terms of wanting advice, direction or even answers to philosophical questions.
Reaching up he gave a little chuckle as he lightly brushed his fingers through Charles’ hair, hesitating instinctively at that spot which liked to knot and carefully unthreading the strands before stroking it back. Then he leaned his head down on Charles’ shoulder and curled an arm around his waist, one of those simple, uncomplicated embraces that were unknown in their childhood.
The thoughts ghosted around in his head but he wasn’t dwelling. It felt nice to not be trying to sort it all out or make sense of it.
So many thoughts, so little time. He offered, letting thoughts of anxious Eriks, unshielded River, shadows and presences, X-men he’s met and Burke float up to the surface of his mind. He laid them out, so that Charles could glance but not feel pressured to respond to any one thing. Simply sharing, not looking for answers.
The hand wrapped around Charles’ back brushed along his shoulder blade. A movement meant to sooth, how often had he wished Sharon would just … rub his back, his shoulder, tell him wordlessly that it would be all right.
And Charles will flip through these different instances, like pages in a book. Looking over them, he feels that it would be only right to let the other telepath see the same from him.
So much like laying cards out on a table, he'll lay out things for Charles. The problems with people judging Erik for a future that might not even become his, butting heads with Erik over mutants and humans, talk of organizing people together with Bucky... ugly sweaters and kissing Erik. The last one is put out reluctantly, as if he's not so sure he wants to share it, but then if he can't trust himself, who can he trust?
The hand on his shoulder has him looking at Charles for a moment, before he'll glance down at the couch, scoot over and lay back against the arm of it, against some nice pillows. Tugging on the other telepath's arm a bit he'll mean to pull him closer.
"Come here." Gentle, tired, he'll try to tug himself down, to have the other get comfortable against him if he will. To use him as a pillow, much like Raven has done many times over the years, apparently he made a good one.
Yeah what was with that anyway? It wasn’t as if either of them was overly soft but even his Raven, who was more used to the caretaker role, would make a pillow out of him when she was feeling down or overwhelmed.
Shifting back when Charles moved, there was a moment of concern before he waited a moment to let his other self sort himself comfortably onto the couch. There was a brief moment of hesitation but the thought of who can you trust… had him giving a small, boyish smile. Helping to sort out the blanket for them both, he folded himself up neatly and tucked across Charles.
There was close to thirty pounds difference between them, so he couldn’t be that heavy and it was definitely warmer like this. A flash of how cold the manor could get in the winter, how their -he’s assuming Charles had the same room- opulent bedroom could become as cool as the fridge.
Cold and alone.
It was an easy thing, to take on the images and snippets of moments as they were offered. The ugly sweaters got a small chuckle out of him as he lifted a hand to brush gently across Charles’ shoulder. Touching because there was just never enough of it when it was needed, was there?
At the awkward kissing, Charles returned gentle warmth and understanding.
He cares about you but is too scared to hope. Like when Mother would promise us skating on the lake, only to wind up too drunk to take us.
The sort of unique desolation that came when hope was offered and then torn away by the person you wanted to trust most in the world.
The warmth of himself cuddled against him under the blanket should be strange, but it's not. Almost like having a little brother who had nightmares and needed to come sleep in bed with you. Granted that had been more Raven's thing, but Charles did feel more like a sibling than just himself, so as weird as this could end up being, for him it wasn't so bad at all.
One hand rests on Charles' back, and slowly starts to rub through the blanket, before sneaking under, rubbing his back through his shirt. Trying to sooth his other self a bit. It was very cold in here, and while it did remind him of his room back home, Charles always found it strange how it felt that way. He had a fireplace in his room after all, but no matter how big the fire in his room was, as a child it never seemed to warm him up at night. Only make shadows that creeped around his room.
Erik is afraid I'll hurt him... and I cannot blame him, considering my record with people. I just hope with time he'll trust me when it comes to this. He didn't want to become his mother in that sense, didn't want to promise things and only lie in the end. He didn't want to push Erik away.
A quiet sigh leaves him, nose nuzzling into the other telepath's hair and he'll let his mind wander, thinking of things, and yet nothing at all. That wonderful thing the mind did when you just wanted to sleep.
It was getting warmer beneath the blanket, warmth that Charles had not enjoyed since before even coming here. He could feel Charles’ tiredness but rather than struggling against the feelings of another -since technically this was himself right?- he instead let it wash across his mind, soothing away the anxiety that had been plaguing him much of the week.
Rather than attempting to carry on a conversation, it seemed counter to the idea of falling asleep, Charles slid his hand up to the back of his counterpart’s nape. Gently, he massaged at that point where tension would gather, right up along the hair line, thumb moving in a gentle, circular pattern, while his fingers rubbed back and forth.
His mind was always chaotic when he slipped into twilight, when he gave up the conscious struggle against the thoughts, emotions and feelings of the city and simply let it all roll over him. Tonight it wasn’t so bad, with the X-House mostly quiet and himself there to focus on.
Shyly, rusty maybe, he began to let memories float between them, instead of words.
Memories of that old baseball bat and playing at ball in the garden. How the ball never went very far but that was never the point. Just hit the ball and then measure the angles; acute, obtuse, right, complimentary, supplementary, vertical, alternate interior…
The sensation of those fingers have him shivering a little, before it more has him feeling what he's certain a cat feels like when being pet behind the ears. A lazy good feeling. It certainly helps that drowsiness clouding his thoughts.
His mind seems to trail along with Charles', memories not entire his still feeling like his, melding and shaping into ones he could easily believe were. His own start to slide in as well, a shoddy half made tree house out in the woods around the estate, him and Raven had worked hard on it, even if it barely could count as a 'house'. But they had fun, pretending all the things up there, in the woods when Marko and his mother didn't care what they were up to.
It was a way to get away from everything and just pretend the world was a place they liked. Just for that time. Eyes slip shut and a warm smile tugs at lips. His hand still rubs, slowing a little as sleep starts to take him, and lips part to let out a soft breath of air as finally sleep comes. He'll sleep well for once, mind full of good memories both his own and Charles'.
No more tossing and turning, not this night.
[ooc: Blue = OU!Charles, Purple = AU!Charles]
When: Late Friday Night/Early Saturday Morning
Where: X-House
What: Sometimes you need to hug yourself
Open or Closed? Open to inhabitants of X-House
Rating/Warnings G for OMG FLUFF
One problem in living in perpetual darkness with no clocks was an inability to have a universal period of wakefulness and sleep time.
Not that it really mattered to Charles; sleep had never been a loyal companion, fickle in its attentions. He noted that most of the minds in the house seemed to be asleep, which was a relief. Charles had actually tried coming over earlier but the pressure and weight of the others had been too much and he’d retreated.
He felt a momentary twinge of apology for the lateness of the hour, then cast out a deliberate tendril.
"Charles?"
He doesn't know how late it is, and honestly he'd stopped trying to figure it out, but Charles had managed to drift off. Aided by alcohol, as was usual for him back home, Charles had managed to sleep for a few hours before the mental touch woke him.
A sleepy little tendril in response is what he gives himself, as he sits up in bed, rubbing at his eyes.
"... yes? Is there something I can do for you, Charles?" It was strange at first to call each other the same name back and forth, but he'd gotten used to it by now.
It was more a feeling of apology for waking him, a jumble of why he was poking at him now instead of when everybody was awake. After considering and discarding a couple polite conversational gambits, Charles shoved his hands in his pockets and tilted his head at the door.
Talk?
It was why he was here and he felt little point in offering himself subterfuge. There was also a sense of dropping the pretense of appearance as there were no ‘proper’ words wrapped around the response.
Lonely? Yes it was a question, because he knows how it can be, Charles. All the people in the room and you might as well be sitting alone.
Sending reassurances that he's done nothing wrong, that it was alright, Charles will get up and pad through the 'house' to go let Charles in. He had no reason not to, and besides if he needed someone Charles felt that it was only right to give him that.
Perhaps they both needed it, they understood one another in that respect. The loneliness. Even with Raven around growing up, even going to school with everyone around him. It was easier to be alone, to not hear everything.
A little. Sometimes. He'll answer, and open the door, wearing draw string night pants, bare footed, blanket drapped around himself. There was no well put together Charles here right now, disheveled and tired, and even in the sleep he had gotten it had hardly been the best.
"Mm, shall we go sit?" A hand wave towards the 'living room', the couch and such things waited for them, but mostly the couch.
No worries, Charles. Charles had attempted to self sooth with a bath, changing accordingly into a t-shirt and sweat pants before he’d gone to crawl into bed. Only to crawl right out of it as he decided to come talk to himself and while he’d remembered socks on his feet, probably would have done better to put on shoes and he still needed to acquire a jacket.
Oh well, it doesn’t seem to bother him beyond having his hands in the pockets of his sweats as he gives himself an owlish blink. Charles doesn’t even bother with a verbal response at the moment; it seems like too much effort and tied to the idea of ‘putting on appearances’ which he’s not interested in. Talking, trying to distinguish between a thought and a spoken word is always a strain.
Instead he nods and slips past himself and into the lower level of the clock tower.
Such a small space, every emotion feels amplified and out of proper perspective, his mental touch a tumble of words but as if they were colored with emotions, in this case, the idea of too extreme. He moved to sit down on the couch, though he sat forward, as if expecting to be admonished, though his mind is open.
Makes keep a safe distance … exhausting. Not just talking about his wild telepathy here, self. He knows … how much energy goes into keeping up the dance of normalcy for those looking in. Those looking for the perfect Xavier family, unwilling to even entertain the idea that Sharon is falling down drunk most of the time. No, no, have to be perfect!
It always worried him, how Charles seemed to sometimes forget simple things. Like shoes. Or eating. Mostly the eating.
Watching himself sit on the couch, the way he sat, the thoughts brushing against his own mind... he wanted to protect him. To protect himself. He knew it was already too late to fix their childhood, to reverse the pain and suffering they went through. But all he can do is walk up to Charles, fingers brushing through his hair gently.
It's okay now. It's just us, Charles. We don't have to pretend to be anything for each other. Though the memories of his mother falling about drunkenly do make him frown a bit, before he'll sit down, watching himself. A hand brushes through his own hair, a mess, mused from tossing and turning in his sleep.
"Can't sleep?" A question he already knows the answer to, but he feels the need to ask it any way.
With the advent of River, Charles was genuinely trying to do better in terms of eating healthier; being generally more aware of the dangers of the city around him but it was so hard. The constant pressure of all the minds, the internal mental distractions he used to keep a sense of self, some days it took precedence over trivial matters like eating or remembering that it was cold out.
The touch to his hair and his mind had him glancing up and over with a small but warm smile and then a knowing eyebrow.
Neither of us do, he said, wrapping the words in a gentle blanket of easy acceptance. He wasn’t here looking for anything from Charles. Not in terms of wanting advice, direction or even answers to philosophical questions.
Reaching up he gave a little chuckle as he lightly brushed his fingers through Charles’ hair, hesitating instinctively at that spot which liked to knot and carefully unthreading the strands before stroking it back. Then he leaned his head down on Charles’ shoulder and curled an arm around his waist, one of those simple, uncomplicated embraces that were unknown in their childhood.
The thoughts ghosted around in his head but he wasn’t dwelling. It felt nice to not be trying to sort it all out or make sense of it.
So many thoughts, so little time. He offered, letting thoughts of anxious Eriks, unshielded River, shadows and presences, X-men he’s met and Burke float up to the surface of his mind. He laid them out, so that Charles could glance but not feel pressured to respond to any one thing. Simply sharing, not looking for answers.
The hand wrapped around Charles’ back brushed along his shoulder blade. A movement meant to sooth, how often had he wished Sharon would just … rub his back, his shoulder, tell him wordlessly that it would be all right.
And Charles will flip through these different instances, like pages in a book. Looking over them, he feels that it would be only right to let the other telepath see the same from him.
So much like laying cards out on a table, he'll lay out things for Charles. The problems with people judging Erik for a future that might not even become his, butting heads with Erik over mutants and humans, talk of organizing people together with Bucky... ugly sweaters and kissing Erik. The last one is put out reluctantly, as if he's not so sure he wants to share it, but then if he can't trust himself, who can he trust?
The hand on his shoulder has him looking at Charles for a moment, before he'll glance down at the couch, scoot over and lay back against the arm of it, against some nice pillows. Tugging on the other telepath's arm a bit he'll mean to pull him closer.
"Come here." Gentle, tired, he'll try to tug himself down, to have the other get comfortable against him if he will. To use him as a pillow, much like Raven has done many times over the years, apparently he made a good one.
Yeah what was with that anyway? It wasn’t as if either of them was overly soft but even his Raven, who was more used to the caretaker role, would make a pillow out of him when she was feeling down or overwhelmed.
Shifting back when Charles moved, there was a moment of concern before he waited a moment to let his other self sort himself comfortably onto the couch. There was a brief moment of hesitation but the thought of who can you trust… had him giving a small, boyish smile. Helping to sort out the blanket for them both, he folded himself up neatly and tucked across Charles.
There was close to thirty pounds difference between them, so he couldn’t be that heavy and it was definitely warmer like this. A flash of how cold the manor could get in the winter, how their -he’s assuming Charles had the same room- opulent bedroom could become as cool as the fridge.
Cold and alone.
It was an easy thing, to take on the images and snippets of moments as they were offered. The ugly sweaters got a small chuckle out of him as he lifted a hand to brush gently across Charles’ shoulder. Touching because there was just never enough of it when it was needed, was there?
At the awkward kissing, Charles returned gentle warmth and understanding.
He cares about you but is too scared to hope. Like when Mother would promise us skating on the lake, only to wind up too drunk to take us.
The sort of unique desolation that came when hope was offered and then torn away by the person you wanted to trust most in the world.
The warmth of himself cuddled against him under the blanket should be strange, but it's not. Almost like having a little brother who had nightmares and needed to come sleep in bed with you. Granted that had been more Raven's thing, but Charles did feel more like a sibling than just himself, so as weird as this could end up being, for him it wasn't so bad at all.
One hand rests on Charles' back, and slowly starts to rub through the blanket, before sneaking under, rubbing his back through his shirt. Trying to sooth his other self a bit. It was very cold in here, and while it did remind him of his room back home, Charles always found it strange how it felt that way. He had a fireplace in his room after all, but no matter how big the fire in his room was, as a child it never seemed to warm him up at night. Only make shadows that creeped around his room.
Erik is afraid I'll hurt him... and I cannot blame him, considering my record with people. I just hope with time he'll trust me when it comes to this. He didn't want to become his mother in that sense, didn't want to promise things and only lie in the end. He didn't want to push Erik away.
A quiet sigh leaves him, nose nuzzling into the other telepath's hair and he'll let his mind wander, thinking of things, and yet nothing at all. That wonderful thing the mind did when you just wanted to sleep.
It was getting warmer beneath the blanket, warmth that Charles had not enjoyed since before even coming here. He could feel Charles’ tiredness but rather than struggling against the feelings of another -since technically this was himself right?- he instead let it wash across his mind, soothing away the anxiety that had been plaguing him much of the week.
Rather than attempting to carry on a conversation, it seemed counter to the idea of falling asleep, Charles slid his hand up to the back of his counterpart’s nape. Gently, he massaged at that point where tension would gather, right up along the hair line, thumb moving in a gentle, circular pattern, while his fingers rubbed back and forth.
His mind was always chaotic when he slipped into twilight, when he gave up the conscious struggle against the thoughts, emotions and feelings of the city and simply let it all roll over him. Tonight it wasn’t so bad, with the X-House mostly quiet and himself there to focus on.
Shyly, rusty maybe, he began to let memories float between them, instead of words.
Memories of that old baseball bat and playing at ball in the garden. How the ball never went very far but that was never the point. Just hit the ball and then measure the angles; acute, obtuse, right, complimentary, supplementary, vertical, alternate interior…
The sensation of those fingers have him shivering a little, before it more has him feeling what he's certain a cat feels like when being pet behind the ears. A lazy good feeling. It certainly helps that drowsiness clouding his thoughts.
His mind seems to trail along with Charles', memories not entire his still feeling like his, melding and shaping into ones he could easily believe were. His own start to slide in as well, a shoddy half made tree house out in the woods around the estate, him and Raven had worked hard on it, even if it barely could count as a 'house'. But they had fun, pretending all the things up there, in the woods when Marko and his mother didn't care what they were up to.
It was a way to get away from everything and just pretend the world was a place they liked. Just for that time. Eyes slip shut and a warm smile tugs at lips. His hand still rubs, slowing a little as sleep starts to take him, and lips part to let out a soft breath of air as finally sleep comes. He'll sleep well for once, mind full of good memories both his own and Charles'.
No more tossing and turning, not this night.
[ooc: Blue = OU!Charles, Purple = AU!Charles]