The World Should Go On
Title: The World Should Go On Part 3
Author:cathat77
Rating: R
Word Count: 1441
Characters: Charles/Erik, Raven
Summary:In an alternate universe, Charles and Erik meet earlier. When Charles and Erik are recruited to find Shaw, they embark on a journey they never expected.
Warnings:not betaed, probably OOC, implicit sex, future mpreg
Disclaimer: In no way, shape, or form does X-Men First Class belong to this author. X-Men First Class is the property of Marvel, and this author is merely borrowing from the Marvel Universe.
Parts 1 and 2
Part 3:
From the Diary of Charles Francis Xavier: 1960
Im rally drunck right now, but a man hass got his arm rapped arownd me. Hes gorgeous. OH NO! Hes waking up. Im going to pratend Im asleep noww.
A note:
Charles,
Although we may have ended in bed last night, my original intentions were to speak to you about your research concerning mutations in the human genome. Whenever you get the chance, call my hotel. My room number's XXX. Call the hotel and ring anytime after 5:00PM. I'll be meeting with a few of my appointments today.
M.E.
Later that day:
Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT! My head is absolutely throbbing, and my ass feels like a train went through it. I'm glad Raven isn't home right now because I feel like absolute SHIT! My flat's an absolute mess! Lamps, my radio, my bed: all broken. I don't know what the hell happened last night, but when I find that bastard, I'm going to lay it into him. He was here. I remember he was here. Why did he leave? WHY DO THEY ALWAYS LEAVE? Just because I invite someone back does not give him the right to completely destroy my flat.
I think I need to have a burial for my bed. Rest in peace, bed. You lived a long life and did right by me. I don't know how I'll ever find a replacement for you. I want to find that man again and march up to him, demanding why on Earth my flat is completely destroyed! God, my head hurts; I must have been pissed last night. I think I'm going to crawl back to bed and sleep some more and then scream at that man later for killing my poor bed.
Later that day:
This is has to be the worst hangover in the history of all hangovers. It lasted nearly five hours with me hardly moving; I couldn't bear to because I felt like I was going to veer off of a steep cliff. Raven found me huddled on the floor in my own sick and woke me up by laughing until tears streamed down her eyes. She had the audacity to ask me where "my lover boy went off to" and "Ooh, Charles, did you scare him off with your shitty pick-up lines." I had to grit my teeth to not show her what I barely do remember from last night.
Here's what I do remember: this man, Mark or Max or something, approached me at the pub last night to talk? I honestly can't remember. His name rang false, but I was already pretty gone at that point. Somehow, he started kissing me, possibly after two glasses of scotch and possibly after an ocean of brandy; though honestly, why we were drinking that much alcohol I have no idea. Usually, I don't get hangovers; we must have imbibed quite a bit last night.
I know I invited him up to the flat. When we got in, he's pressed me up against the entrance, and later, I vaguely remember him pushing me onto a desk to have sex the first time that night. Moreover, I do remember that we eventually got to the bed.
However, that does not excuse the fact that all of my belongings are just strewn all over the place!
And, he didn't even leave me any contact information. Bastard.
Later that day:
Raven made me several cups of coffee despite my warning her that coffee wouldn't make me sober, just alert and drunk at the same time. I personally think that I woke up drunk sometime this morning, and my hangover started much later. I've been lounging in the flat all day while cleaning the mess. I've been in a rather sour mood I admit. Raven's been having the time of her life watching me though. Says it's hilarious.
Ha fucking ha.
Anyway, the reason I've been cleaning is that hopefully I'll find a sign or note of whoever that man was last night. It's around 18h now; I'd rather like to know whether he wants to see me again.
A few minutes later:
He wrote in here: I feel mortified enough as it is, so I might as well go see him. I have to admit that no one ever wants to hear about my research and to meet someone who does is ultimately intriguing. Raven only listens to it because of her chronic insomnia.
The next morning:
I knew I was not alone; Raven is clearly proof. But to meet someone like Erik! We met on false pretences, Erik and I. I scanned his mind briefly to see the events of two nights past: he introduced himself to me in the hopes that we would talk about genetics, and of course, drunk me began remarking about his groovy mutations: blue eyes, his height, his tendency to tan, which apparently got me onto a tangent that contrasted his skin with my own "milky-white skin." God, I shouldn't get that drunk ever again.
Apparently, my rather lengthy discussion on my own "flawless" skin drove Erik to challenge me to a drinking match because I was projecting images of myself to his mind, and he thought he was going mad, so why not get completely shit-faced? He thought he was already drunk.
I asked him more about our first meeting. I like to hear stories of my drunken endeavours rather than just plucking them out of peoples' minds. Apparently, it went a little something like this:
During our first meeting, I kept on flashing him with my mind about my aforementioned "milky-white" and "flawless" skin. And he said, "Fuck it." We got into a drinking match, which ended up with the two of us attacking each other, then getting thrown out of the pub, and then going back to my flat. And then, we had sex all over the flat: on my desk, on the floor, on my kitchen table, and eventually on my bed. He woke up sober as a judge, kissed my supposedly sleeping face, left me a note in what I deem a rather inappropriate place, and snuck out for "business." Lucky! He remembers that night; I don't. But, it does seem like something I would do.
He said that the note I had written before his note was cute and hilarious, and it was one of the reasons that he decided to leave any contact information with me at all.
But really, that's not the important part at all. Erik has the grooviest mutation: he can bend metal to suit his will. It's fascinating. It does explain why my bed collapsed and a lot of lamps were broken too. He introduced himself as Max Eisenhardt, but I quickly dispelled him of his falsehood. I knew his name was a lie, even if I didn't know his real name. He wanted to know how I knew, and I said that my mutation allows me to read his mind.
He had tears in his eyes. He thought he was alone. If I can be with him, he'll never be alone again. He wanted to know whether I saw everything about him, and upon my denial, he seemed relieved and introduced himself as Erik. Said that he wanted to talk to me, ask about my research.
I'm glad that drunken me can plan ahead. I have a feeling this is the start of a beautiful relationship.
Part 4
Author:cathat77
Rating: R
Word Count: 1441
Characters: Charles/Erik, Raven
Summary:In an alternate universe, Charles and Erik meet earlier. When Charles and Erik are recruited to find Shaw, they embark on a journey they never expected.
Warnings:not betaed, probably OOC, implicit sex, future mpreg
Disclaimer: In no way, shape, or form does X-Men First Class belong to this author. X-Men First Class is the property of Marvel, and this author is merely borrowing from the Marvel Universe.
Parts 1 and 2
Part 3:
From the Diary of Charles Francis Xavier: 1960
Im rally drunck right now, but a man hass got his arm rapped arownd me. Hes gorgeous. OH NO! Hes waking up. Im going to pratend Im asleep noww.
A note:
Charles,
Although we may have ended in bed last night, my original intentions were to speak to you about your research concerning mutations in the human genome. Whenever you get the chance, call my hotel. My room number's XXX. Call the hotel and ring anytime after 5:00PM. I'll be meeting with a few of my appointments today.
M.E.
Later that day:
Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT! My head is absolutely throbbing, and my ass feels like a train went through it. I'm glad Raven isn't home right now because I feel like absolute SHIT! My flat's an absolute mess! Lamps, my radio, my bed: all broken. I don't know what the hell happened last night, but when I find that bastard, I'm going to lay it into him. He was here. I remember he was here. Why did he leave? WHY DO THEY ALWAYS LEAVE? Just because I invite someone back does not give him the right to completely destroy my flat.
I think I need to have a burial for my bed. Rest in peace, bed. You lived a long life and did right by me. I don't know how I'll ever find a replacement for you. I want to find that man again and march up to him, demanding why on Earth my flat is completely destroyed! God, my head hurts; I must have been pissed last night. I think I'm going to crawl back to bed and sleep some more and then scream at that man later for killing my poor bed.
Later that day:
This is has to be the worst hangover in the history of all hangovers. It lasted nearly five hours with me hardly moving; I couldn't bear to because I felt like I was going to veer off of a steep cliff. Raven found me huddled on the floor in my own sick and woke me up by laughing until tears streamed down her eyes. She had the audacity to ask me where "my lover boy went off to" and "Ooh, Charles, did you scare him off with your shitty pick-up lines." I had to grit my teeth to not show her what I barely do remember from last night.
Here's what I do remember: this man, Mark or Max or something, approached me at the pub last night to talk? I honestly can't remember. His name rang false, but I was already pretty gone at that point. Somehow, he started kissing me, possibly after two glasses of scotch and possibly after an ocean of brandy; though honestly, why we were drinking that much alcohol I have no idea. Usually, I don't get hangovers; we must have imbibed quite a bit last night.
I know I invited him up to the flat. When we got in, he's pressed me up against the entrance, and later, I vaguely remember him pushing me onto a desk to have sex the first time that night. Moreover, I do remember that we eventually got to the bed.
However, that does not excuse the fact that all of my belongings are just strewn all over the place!
And, he didn't even leave me any contact information. Bastard.
Later that day:
Raven made me several cups of coffee despite my warning her that coffee wouldn't make me sober, just alert and drunk at the same time. I personally think that I woke up drunk sometime this morning, and my hangover started much later. I've been lounging in the flat all day while cleaning the mess. I've been in a rather sour mood I admit. Raven's been having the time of her life watching me though. Says it's hilarious.
Ha fucking ha.
Anyway, the reason I've been cleaning is that hopefully I'll find a sign or note of whoever that man was last night. It's around 18h now; I'd rather like to know whether he wants to see me again.
A few minutes later:
He wrote in here: I feel mortified enough as it is, so I might as well go see him. I have to admit that no one ever wants to hear about my research and to meet someone who does is ultimately intriguing. Raven only listens to it because of her chronic insomnia.
The next morning:
I knew I was not alone; Raven is clearly proof. But to meet someone like Erik! We met on false pretences, Erik and I. I scanned his mind briefly to see the events of two nights past: he introduced himself to me in the hopes that we would talk about genetics, and of course, drunk me began remarking about his groovy mutations: blue eyes, his height, his tendency to tan, which apparently got me onto a tangent that contrasted his skin with my own "milky-white skin." God, I shouldn't get that drunk ever again.
Apparently, my rather lengthy discussion on my own "flawless" skin drove Erik to challenge me to a drinking match because I was projecting images of myself to his mind, and he thought he was going mad, so why not get completely shit-faced? He thought he was already drunk.
I asked him more about our first meeting. I like to hear stories of my drunken endeavours rather than just plucking them out of peoples' minds. Apparently, it went a little something like this:
During our first meeting, I kept on flashing him with my mind about my aforementioned "milky-white" and "flawless" skin. And he said, "Fuck it." We got into a drinking match, which ended up with the two of us attacking each other, then getting thrown out of the pub, and then going back to my flat. And then, we had sex all over the flat: on my desk, on the floor, on my kitchen table, and eventually on my bed. He woke up sober as a judge, kissed my supposedly sleeping face, left me a note in what I deem a rather inappropriate place, and snuck out for "business." Lucky! He remembers that night; I don't. But, it does seem like something I would do.
He said that the note I had written before his note was cute and hilarious, and it was one of the reasons that he decided to leave any contact information with me at all.
But really, that's not the important part at all. Erik has the grooviest mutation: he can bend metal to suit his will. It's fascinating. It does explain why my bed collapsed and a lot of lamps were broken too. He introduced himself as Max Eisenhardt, but I quickly dispelled him of his falsehood. I knew his name was a lie, even if I didn't know his real name. He wanted to know how I knew, and I said that my mutation allows me to read his mind.
He had tears in his eyes. He thought he was alone. If I can be with him, he'll never be alone again. He wanted to know whether I saw everything about him, and upon my denial, he seemed relieved and introduced himself as Erik. Said that he wanted to talk to me, ask about my research.
I'm glad that drunken me can plan ahead. I have a feeling this is the start of a beautiful relationship.
Part 4