Old Habits
Title: Old Habits 7
Pairing: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Author: alanwolfmoon
Rating: Pg-13
Warnings: Not much.
Summary: Continuation of Erik's illness (sorry for the fail!summary on the last chapter, forgot to change it)
Disclaimer: MINE! ALL MINE!....uh, no. Not mine.
Feedback: Reviews and flames are welcome. (They make it look like I'm writing fast)
Notes: Fifth in a series of ten generally H/C themed ficlits following Charles and Erik for ~ fifteen years after First Class. Set around 8 years after FC.
Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6
Tea. He's miserable, and so dizzy he can't walk, and the only other person around is, while extremely well meaning, and, company-wise, about the only person he would want with him, also happens to not be able to walk himself, much less drag Erik along. And Charles brings him tea. Earl Grey with cream and sugar, and wets a washcloth, and gently wipes the sweat from his forehead with it, while he drinks the tea.
He leans against Charles's shins, a tiny bit bothered by the atrophy he could feel through the slacks. It was, just the tiniest bit, his fault. Not that Charles would ever blame him, or anyone. He groans, and puts his hand to his head, which really, honestly feels like its about to split right down the middle.
Charles started moving his fingertips in gentle circles over Erik's temples, "shhh. Just relax. If you can get back to the bed, I can help you more."
"I don't want you in my head, Charles."
"That's not what I meant."
He looked up at his friend, blinking miserably, "it's kind of moot."
"Can't make it?"
"Don't think I can even stand. Way too dizzy."
"I can help. Actually, you can help. You're powers are working, right?"
"I'd be kind of in trouble if they stopped working just because I had a cold."
"You don't have a cold, you have the flu, at the very least."
"Regardless, yes, they are working."
"Scoot forward."
Erik frowned, but did, missing the warmth of his friend at his back, even if the form made him feel a little sick in the pit of his stomach. Charles moved out of the chair, lifting himself down to the floor, and gripping Erik's shoulder, "okay. Just, climb up in there, and send it back when you're on the bed."
Erik stared at his friend. Earnest blue eyes, and a slightly receding hairline made less obvious by the slightly longer than average brown hair. But Charles would be more upset if they remained stuck in the bathroom, so he shakily crawled to the chair, gripped the edge of the seat. Charles braced himself against the wall, and pushed, Erik blinked, at the force with which he was propelled upwards. Charles was strong, quite a bit stronger than he'd been when Erik had met him.
He managed to get himself turned around properly in the seat, and look down at the other mutant. Charles sat against the wall, grinning, arms folded, "bit odd, that."
Miserable, and guilt-provoking, was more like it, but he forced a smile, and Charles had promised not to pry. He pushed against the magnetism in the air, forcing the wheels to turn-and promptly bumped into the doorway. Charles laughed, Erik glared, and tried again. When he was out of Charles's sight, he stopped, and looked down. He was too big, for one thing, the chair was the right size for Charles's smaller build. But he touched the metal grip, the smooth, polished surface cold against his hand.
He sort of crawled onto the bed, and sent the wheelchair back to the bathroom, though he couldn't see around the corner to send it through the doorway. Charles's head, and torso poked out, and he pushed himself up and into the chair with a quick, easy, practiced motion, then disappeared, and reappeared with a glass of water wedged between his legs, as he pushed himself over to the bed, "here. You're bound to be dehydrated."
Erik knew he'd felt worse, by a lot, but it had been a very long time, and this was still a pretty terrible feeling. He couldn't not admit that he loved Charles, he'd never said it out loud, but it had been rather clear from the start. And he was responsible, Charles had even said so. And, yes, he knew, Charles had said whatever he could think of to make Erik not kill McTaggert, that in all likelihood he had meant nothing of the sort, and in fact had said not moments later, that it was no-one's fault.
But if it were anyone's, it was definitely Erik's. And generally someone getting shot was someone's fault.
His vison was spinning, and blurring, he couldn't even make out his friend's face, as the other mutant gently held the cup to his lips, "easy, Erik. You're worked up, what's wrong? Are you in pain?"
He gripped the front of his friend's shirt, and pulled them together, hiding his face in Charles's shoulder, "I'm so sorry."
Charles gently pushed him off, "Erik, you aren't making any sense. There's nothing to apologize for. Are you alright? Can you understand what I'm saying?"
He couldn't respond, the whole world was swirling, confusing, he could barely make sense of Charles's words. He felt Charles's touch in his mind, did not have the forethought to say no. He was scared, and confused, and if he'd been thinking more clearly, he would have said no so Charles's wouldn't find the guilt.
But he wasn't, and before that even occurred to him, he'd let Charles in, and closed his eyes.
Dimmly, as he heard Charles calling for an ambulance, he realized that this really wasn't a logical time for this much guilt, that it had to be how sick he was, messing with how he was thinking. But the clarity required for that sort of introspection lasted only a brief moment, and the next thing he really knew, he was in an ambulance, and Charles was holding his hand. He closed his eyes, letting Charles know mentally that he was making more sense, before allowing himself to lose consciousness once more.
Pairing: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Author: alanwolfmoon
Rating: Pg-13
Warnings: Not much.
Summary: Continuation of Erik's illness (sorry for the fail!summary on the last chapter, forgot to change it)
Disclaimer: MINE! ALL MINE!....uh, no. Not mine.
Feedback: Reviews and flames are welcome. (They make it look like I'm writing fast)
Notes: Fifth in a series of ten generally H/C themed ficlits following Charles and Erik for ~ fifteen years after First Class. Set around 8 years after FC.
Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6
Tea. He's miserable, and so dizzy he can't walk, and the only other person around is, while extremely well meaning, and, company-wise, about the only person he would want with him, also happens to not be able to walk himself, much less drag Erik along. And Charles brings him tea. Earl Grey with cream and sugar, and wets a washcloth, and gently wipes the sweat from his forehead with it, while he drinks the tea.
He leans against Charles's shins, a tiny bit bothered by the atrophy he could feel through the slacks. It was, just the tiniest bit, his fault. Not that Charles would ever blame him, or anyone. He groans, and puts his hand to his head, which really, honestly feels like its about to split right down the middle.
Charles started moving his fingertips in gentle circles over Erik's temples, "shhh. Just relax. If you can get back to the bed, I can help you more."
"I don't want you in my head, Charles."
"That's not what I meant."
He looked up at his friend, blinking miserably, "it's kind of moot."
"Can't make it?"
"Don't think I can even stand. Way too dizzy."
"I can help. Actually, you can help. You're powers are working, right?"
"I'd be kind of in trouble if they stopped working just because I had a cold."
"You don't have a cold, you have the flu, at the very least."
"Regardless, yes, they are working."
"Scoot forward."
Erik frowned, but did, missing the warmth of his friend at his back, even if the form made him feel a little sick in the pit of his stomach. Charles moved out of the chair, lifting himself down to the floor, and gripping Erik's shoulder, "okay. Just, climb up in there, and send it back when you're on the bed."
Erik stared at his friend. Earnest blue eyes, and a slightly receding hairline made less obvious by the slightly longer than average brown hair. But Charles would be more upset if they remained stuck in the bathroom, so he shakily crawled to the chair, gripped the edge of the seat. Charles braced himself against the wall, and pushed, Erik blinked, at the force with which he was propelled upwards. Charles was strong, quite a bit stronger than he'd been when Erik had met him.
He managed to get himself turned around properly in the seat, and look down at the other mutant. Charles sat against the wall, grinning, arms folded, "bit odd, that."
Miserable, and guilt-provoking, was more like it, but he forced a smile, and Charles had promised not to pry. He pushed against the magnetism in the air, forcing the wheels to turn-and promptly bumped into the doorway. Charles laughed, Erik glared, and tried again. When he was out of Charles's sight, he stopped, and looked down. He was too big, for one thing, the chair was the right size for Charles's smaller build. But he touched the metal grip, the smooth, polished surface cold against his hand.
He sort of crawled onto the bed, and sent the wheelchair back to the bathroom, though he couldn't see around the corner to send it through the doorway. Charles's head, and torso poked out, and he pushed himself up and into the chair with a quick, easy, practiced motion, then disappeared, and reappeared with a glass of water wedged between his legs, as he pushed himself over to the bed, "here. You're bound to be dehydrated."
Erik knew he'd felt worse, by a lot, but it had been a very long time, and this was still a pretty terrible feeling. He couldn't not admit that he loved Charles, he'd never said it out loud, but it had been rather clear from the start. And he was responsible, Charles had even said so. And, yes, he knew, Charles had said whatever he could think of to make Erik not kill McTaggert, that in all likelihood he had meant nothing of the sort, and in fact had said not moments later, that it was no-one's fault.
But if it were anyone's, it was definitely Erik's. And generally someone getting shot was someone's fault.
His vison was spinning, and blurring, he couldn't even make out his friend's face, as the other mutant gently held the cup to his lips, "easy, Erik. You're worked up, what's wrong? Are you in pain?"
He gripped the front of his friend's shirt, and pulled them together, hiding his face in Charles's shoulder, "I'm so sorry."
Charles gently pushed him off, "Erik, you aren't making any sense. There's nothing to apologize for. Are you alright? Can you understand what I'm saying?"
He couldn't respond, the whole world was swirling, confusing, he could barely make sense of Charles's words. He felt Charles's touch in his mind, did not have the forethought to say no. He was scared, and confused, and if he'd been thinking more clearly, he would have said no so Charles's wouldn't find the guilt.
But he wasn't, and before that even occurred to him, he'd let Charles in, and closed his eyes.
Dimmly, as he heard Charles calling for an ambulance, he realized that this really wasn't a logical time for this much guilt, that it had to be how sick he was, messing with how he was thinking. But the clarity required for that sort of introspection lasted only a brief moment, and the next thing he really knew, he was in an ambulance, and Charles was holding his hand. He closed his eyes, letting Charles know mentally that he was making more sense, before allowing himself to lose consciousness once more.