The World Should Go On
Title: The World Should Go On Part 4
Author:cathat77
Rating: R
Word Count: 2238
Characters: Charles/Erik, Alex, Angel, mentions of Darwin
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.
Unfortunately, this is mostly filler and probably a bit awkward.
Part 3
Part 4:
Eyelids fluttering, Charles knows he is in a dream. He knows that the things crawling on him cannot be real because why would Erik ever let bugs scamper over him. Though what if he's dead? What if his mind has disassociated from his body? Charles has always restrained himself from furthering his powers too much. What he can do now has him worrying enough as it is.
Charles feels a sting of pain, and now, he's not so sure he is in a dream. Are humans supposed to feel pain in a dream? Isn't that inherently wrong? A voice snickers in the back of his mind, whispering, "But, you're not human, are you now?" The voice hovers behind his right ear, feeding the word freak into his mind over and over and over. Charles thinks he can even feel a puff of hot air on the side of his head every single time the word is said.
In the dimly lit room, Charles sees a man hover over him, and he follows the man's hands to his own arm where the man has put an IV into him. That explained the pain. But, where is that voice coming from? Charles's eyelids feel heavy, and the man is watching him, his hand reaching out to caress Charles's face. Instead, the man slaps him.
Charles is wide awake.
He shudders out the bed sheets covering him, and he sees Erik lying next to him sound asleep. Charles wants to turn to Erik and hold Erik in his arms while he tries to forget about the strange dreams that have plagued him since Erik announced his intentions to kill Shaw. But, Erik has never liked touch, especially not during sleep, and though, Erik was affectionate while awake, Charles didn't want to risk the chance of death if he accidentally woke Erik.
Erik had enough to worry about anyway. Charles knew that Erik wanted to find Shaw, and Erik had accused Charles of purposely impeding his ultimate goal. Their recruiting missions hadn't gone as well as planned, and they had more arguments in the last few weeks than in the two years that they had known each other. Only a taxi driver had agreed to their cause, and Charles could sense his hesitation. They had to visit a strip club tonight, and Charles was not relishing the idea of sitting there with Erik while girls pranced naked around him. Though the girls had painted-on smiles, Charles knew that he would soak in their misery like a sponge.
Erik thought that every time Charles opened his mouth to convince a mutant to join their cause was only an impediment. Erik felt that touting idealism was a sure-fire way to get a rejection. Charles nervously gathered his clothing, but he continually dropped everything that he could get his hands on. The dream stayed in the forefront of Charles's mind, threatening to stain his entire day with a tinge of fear.
Charles drew in deep breaths through his nose out of his mouth. He concentrated on how he breathed, feeling his belly expand and withdraw with every inhale and exhale. Looking in the mirror, he noted the wan quality of his face and the deep purple bags underneath his eyes. Though Charles was unsure if the two mutants they planned to visit today, Erik had insisted on the visits when the two of them had gone over the potential members of their team. Those mutants who had the most to gain and more destructive powers would have to be targeted now that Charles's plan of recruiting mutants who had stable homes had failed.
Charles heard the faint grumblings of a tired man wanting coffee, and he went to prepare some coffee for Erik while he drank his own tea. Charles could only feel his headache getting worse as the pungent smell of coffee wafted throughout the room. Erik sidled up to him, yawning and shirtless, and hugged Charles before staring straight at the coffee maker while it did its magic.
Erik's mussed hair caused nothing short of arousal, and though Charles would love a great morning kiss, he needed to keep his hands busy before he started projecting his anxiety all over the room. Not that he can really hide his tension all too well because Erik slings an arm around Charles's waist, coffee cup in hand, and begins to leave a trail of kisses down Charles's jaw line to his collar bone. He leaves open-mouthed kisses up and down Charles's neck before firmly worrying the skin on the back of Charles's neck right at the axis. He gives the reddening mark a last kiss before gulping down the rest of his coffee, some of which had sloshed down the sides of the cup.
Erik can tell that Charles is worried and that even if Charles is a mind reader and Erik emphatically is not a mind reader, when Charles is worried, Erik is worried. Despite their more recent arguments, Erik still cares for Charles, and despite Charles's many protests, Erik still treats him like something precious needing protection. He is often reminded of a small shivering kitten when looking at Charles.
But, Erik knows that Charles does not want to talk. Erik knew when he feigned sleep this morning, and Charles didn't even pounce on him, proclaiming Erik to be "lazybones." Charles had twisted in their sheets all night long, and while Erik couldn't claim to be a stranger to night terrors, Charles had strong enough mental shields that Charles rarely ever had them at all.
Erik sat firmly on the bed, and when he felt Charles's inquisitive look rake over him, he simply gestured to the bed. Charles walked over to him, and Erik pressed his head into Charles's middle, wrapping his arms around him.
"Tell me what troubles you, Charles," Erik said. Though Charles tried to suppress it, Erik could still feel the trembles wracking Charles's body. Erik ran a hand up Charles's arm and pulled Charles to his chest, wrapping the other man in warmth. He interlaced his fingers through Charles's thick brown hair.
"I feel that our arguments are affecting my psyche more severely due to the combined stress of this venture, my friend. Perhaps you are correct in your hypothesis. Perhaps we should only recruit the downtrodden, but I want to help everyone, and I wish that we will not fall under the eye of discrimination and suppression. But, I fear that my wish will not come true." Charles sighed, and Erik continued to stroke his hair. He caught Charles's face with his hands and leaned forward to rest his forehead against Charles's.
"Erik, we need to go. We have a long way yet. And, I fear that convincing this next boy of our cause may be extenuatingly difficult," Charles sighed out. He had pushed himself away from Erik's chest.
The drive was long as usual. Charles ghosted his fingertips over the glass of the car's windows while Erik drove. He wished he could appreciate the fields of wheat and corn that whirled by, but Charles couldn't appreciate the landscape surrounding him. This place was too empty, and though Erik's mind was a comfort, Charles wanted to swathe himself in the buzz of other people's worries.
Even now, he sometimes caught the edges of the word freak floating around him. While Charles felt assured that he wasn't under a foreign psychic attack, he worried that his own mind was fabricating such weapons against himself. Charles barely noticed the stops that they made to diners and other eating establishments, continuously poring over the dream in his mind. Charles forced himself to conclude that Erik's fear of registration and experimentation had bled into his own mind because he didn't know what other alternatives he could postulate.
The prison guards led the two men into solitary confinement, and the guard quipped that the prisoner was one of the only who preferred his imprisonment there. Charles shot Erik a look, and Erik led the way into the now open room. A blond boy sat on a cot in the room, glaring petulantly at his visitors. The door swung closed behind them.
Erik moved forward to speak. "Hello, Alex. My name is Erik Lensherr, and this man behind me is Charles Xavier. We know about your powers, and we think you will be able to help us-"
"How exactly do you think I can do that? I'm in here for a reason. I burnt down a house; I can't control what I do," yelled Alex. He wrung his hands together, and Charles could feel the heat of the flames of Alex's home as Alex could not bring himself to stop thinking about it.
"Mr. Summers, the fire was not your fault," Charles emphasized. "You are untrained, but Mr. Lensherr and I will be able to help you. Like you, we both trained our powers just as you must." A surprised look flashed over Alex's face. Though his brow was furrowed, he nodded in agreement.
"What do you want me for?" Erik stepped forward at this question.
"We are hunting a man named Sebastian Shaw, and we are looking for people like us who can stop him. He has amassed his own organization, and we must stop him." Charles knew that Erik only thought of killing Sebastian Shaw.
Charles spoke up now, "You can join us. You can walk out now. You can help people. Or, you can waste away here. You can agonize about your brother." Alex's face was slack. "Yes, Mr. Summers, I am a telepath, and I can read your mind. You will do us a great service by helping us."
Charles retreated then, and Erik discussed some more details about the mission. The drive from then was even longer, and he could feel Erik's burning glances. Erik did not meddle often in Charles's affairs, but now, Charles emitted an aura of distraction. Alex had fallen asleep in the back, his face as peaceful and rested as a babe's.
They had deposited Alex in their hotel room before going to the gentleman's club for the night. Bright lights and the gaudy excess hit Charles in the face like spilt musk oil. The joint oozed sex, and a smiling woman led them inside. Charles felt her desire to leave the place and never come back, and though he wanted to sympathize with her, Erik would no doubt remind him of the real reason they were here at all.
"Which one is she?" Erik leaned over and handed a note to the bartender while ordering two scotches.
"I haven't seen her…. Disregard that, she's coming around now." Charles shot Erik a look before projecting: That one there. She's coming around right now on the bar.
Erik handed her a note, and the girl smirked, pocketing the bill down her back.
"You cats know it's double for the two of you," she pulled the red velvet curtain over the entryway and pulled what she thought of as her grab'em pose, a pose that would direct the eyes in certain areas and inspire thoughts of spending even more money, allowing her to leave even earlier.
"How about we show you ours and you show us yours?"
"Okay, that's not how this works, daddy-o."
Erik simply floated the bucket of champagne over to Charles who tipped out his glass.
"More tea, vicar?" Erik asked with a smirk on his face.
"Certainly." Angel realized they were like her, other-talented as her mother had once put it. And so, she flew for them.
"How would you like a job where you can keep your clothes on?" Charles asked her directly. "Ms. Salvadore, my name is Charles Xavier, and my associate is Erik Lensherr. As Mr. Lensherr will explain to you, we require the use of your gifts. For your help, you will be rewarded."
They bundled the girl into the car and drove back to the hotel where they had arranged separate rooms for their new guests.
Charles had crawled into bed, huddling into a ball. His head throbbed, and Erik's hands on his head were comforting. Erik manoeuvred Charles's head into his lap all the while coaxing out the tension. Charles's faced relaxed, and he opened his eyes.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you what happened this morning, but today was important. We need them. It feels wrong, collecting them solely for their ability." Charles gazed up at Erik and projected the dream into his mind. Erik's breath rushed out him.
"How long have you been…?"
Not for too long, but our arguments do tend to encourage them. They always have encouraged the nightmares. These are, however, significantly different than my normal nightmares.
"Charles, the fact that you have normal nightmares astounds me."
I know. I honestly think the stress is getting to me. Erik, I know you don't agree with me, but I still feel that there is hope for integration and peace.
Erik's hand abruptly stopped its comforting gesture. Moving his eyes away from the point they had previously been staring at, he looked again at Charles, noting the weary look on his face. He tilted Charles's face up and lightly kissed Charles's rosy lips. His rough fingers smoothed out the tension in Charles's cheek, caressing the deep purple marks under those blue eyes.
"That is a talk for another night. Go to sleep, Charles."
Author:cathat77
Rating: R
Word Count: 2238
Characters: Charles/Erik, Alex, Angel, mentions of Darwin
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.
Unfortunately, this is mostly filler and probably a bit awkward.
Part 3
Part 4:
Eyelids fluttering, Charles knows he is in a dream. He knows that the things crawling on him cannot be real because why would Erik ever let bugs scamper over him. Though what if he's dead? What if his mind has disassociated from his body? Charles has always restrained himself from furthering his powers too much. What he can do now has him worrying enough as it is.
Charles feels a sting of pain, and now, he's not so sure he is in a dream. Are humans supposed to feel pain in a dream? Isn't that inherently wrong? A voice snickers in the back of his mind, whispering, "But, you're not human, are you now?" The voice hovers behind his right ear, feeding the word freak into his mind over and over and over. Charles thinks he can even feel a puff of hot air on the side of his head every single time the word is said.
In the dimly lit room, Charles sees a man hover over him, and he follows the man's hands to his own arm where the man has put an IV into him. That explained the pain. But, where is that voice coming from? Charles's eyelids feel heavy, and the man is watching him, his hand reaching out to caress Charles's face. Instead, the man slaps him.
Charles is wide awake.
He shudders out the bed sheets covering him, and he sees Erik lying next to him sound asleep. Charles wants to turn to Erik and hold Erik in his arms while he tries to forget about the strange dreams that have plagued him since Erik announced his intentions to kill Shaw. But, Erik has never liked touch, especially not during sleep, and though, Erik was affectionate while awake, Charles didn't want to risk the chance of death if he accidentally woke Erik.
Erik had enough to worry about anyway. Charles knew that Erik wanted to find Shaw, and Erik had accused Charles of purposely impeding his ultimate goal. Their recruiting missions hadn't gone as well as planned, and they had more arguments in the last few weeks than in the two years that they had known each other. Only a taxi driver had agreed to their cause, and Charles could sense his hesitation. They had to visit a strip club tonight, and Charles was not relishing the idea of sitting there with Erik while girls pranced naked around him. Though the girls had painted-on smiles, Charles knew that he would soak in their misery like a sponge.
Erik thought that every time Charles opened his mouth to convince a mutant to join their cause was only an impediment. Erik felt that touting idealism was a sure-fire way to get a rejection. Charles nervously gathered his clothing, but he continually dropped everything that he could get his hands on. The dream stayed in the forefront of Charles's mind, threatening to stain his entire day with a tinge of fear.
Charles drew in deep breaths through his nose out of his mouth. He concentrated on how he breathed, feeling his belly expand and withdraw with every inhale and exhale. Looking in the mirror, he noted the wan quality of his face and the deep purple bags underneath his eyes. Though Charles was unsure if the two mutants they planned to visit today, Erik had insisted on the visits when the two of them had gone over the potential members of their team. Those mutants who had the most to gain and more destructive powers would have to be targeted now that Charles's plan of recruiting mutants who had stable homes had failed.
Charles heard the faint grumblings of a tired man wanting coffee, and he went to prepare some coffee for Erik while he drank his own tea. Charles could only feel his headache getting worse as the pungent smell of coffee wafted throughout the room. Erik sidled up to him, yawning and shirtless, and hugged Charles before staring straight at the coffee maker while it did its magic.
Erik's mussed hair caused nothing short of arousal, and though Charles would love a great morning kiss, he needed to keep his hands busy before he started projecting his anxiety all over the room. Not that he can really hide his tension all too well because Erik slings an arm around Charles's waist, coffee cup in hand, and begins to leave a trail of kisses down Charles's jaw line to his collar bone. He leaves open-mouthed kisses up and down Charles's neck before firmly worrying the skin on the back of Charles's neck right at the axis. He gives the reddening mark a last kiss before gulping down the rest of his coffee, some of which had sloshed down the sides of the cup.
Erik can tell that Charles is worried and that even if Charles is a mind reader and Erik emphatically is not a mind reader, when Charles is worried, Erik is worried. Despite their more recent arguments, Erik still cares for Charles, and despite Charles's many protests, Erik still treats him like something precious needing protection. He is often reminded of a small shivering kitten when looking at Charles.
But, Erik knows that Charles does not want to talk. Erik knew when he feigned sleep this morning, and Charles didn't even pounce on him, proclaiming Erik to be "lazybones." Charles had twisted in their sheets all night long, and while Erik couldn't claim to be a stranger to night terrors, Charles had strong enough mental shields that Charles rarely ever had them at all.
Erik sat firmly on the bed, and when he felt Charles's inquisitive look rake over him, he simply gestured to the bed. Charles walked over to him, and Erik pressed his head into Charles's middle, wrapping his arms around him.
"Tell me what troubles you, Charles," Erik said. Though Charles tried to suppress it, Erik could still feel the trembles wracking Charles's body. Erik ran a hand up Charles's arm and pulled Charles to his chest, wrapping the other man in warmth. He interlaced his fingers through Charles's thick brown hair.
"I feel that our arguments are affecting my psyche more severely due to the combined stress of this venture, my friend. Perhaps you are correct in your hypothesis. Perhaps we should only recruit the downtrodden, but I want to help everyone, and I wish that we will not fall under the eye of discrimination and suppression. But, I fear that my wish will not come true." Charles sighed, and Erik continued to stroke his hair. He caught Charles's face with his hands and leaned forward to rest his forehead against Charles's.
"Erik, we need to go. We have a long way yet. And, I fear that convincing this next boy of our cause may be extenuatingly difficult," Charles sighed out. He had pushed himself away from Erik's chest.
The drive was long as usual. Charles ghosted his fingertips over the glass of the car's windows while Erik drove. He wished he could appreciate the fields of wheat and corn that whirled by, but Charles couldn't appreciate the landscape surrounding him. This place was too empty, and though Erik's mind was a comfort, Charles wanted to swathe himself in the buzz of other people's worries.
Even now, he sometimes caught the edges of the word freak floating around him. While Charles felt assured that he wasn't under a foreign psychic attack, he worried that his own mind was fabricating such weapons against himself. Charles barely noticed the stops that they made to diners and other eating establishments, continuously poring over the dream in his mind. Charles forced himself to conclude that Erik's fear of registration and experimentation had bled into his own mind because he didn't know what other alternatives he could postulate.
The prison guards led the two men into solitary confinement, and the guard quipped that the prisoner was one of the only who preferred his imprisonment there. Charles shot Erik a look, and Erik led the way into the now open room. A blond boy sat on a cot in the room, glaring petulantly at his visitors. The door swung closed behind them.
Erik moved forward to speak. "Hello, Alex. My name is Erik Lensherr, and this man behind me is Charles Xavier. We know about your powers, and we think you will be able to help us-"
"How exactly do you think I can do that? I'm in here for a reason. I burnt down a house; I can't control what I do," yelled Alex. He wrung his hands together, and Charles could feel the heat of the flames of Alex's home as Alex could not bring himself to stop thinking about it.
"Mr. Summers, the fire was not your fault," Charles emphasized. "You are untrained, but Mr. Lensherr and I will be able to help you. Like you, we both trained our powers just as you must." A surprised look flashed over Alex's face. Though his brow was furrowed, he nodded in agreement.
"What do you want me for?" Erik stepped forward at this question.
"We are hunting a man named Sebastian Shaw, and we are looking for people like us who can stop him. He has amassed his own organization, and we must stop him." Charles knew that Erik only thought of killing Sebastian Shaw.
Charles spoke up now, "You can join us. You can walk out now. You can help people. Or, you can waste away here. You can agonize about your brother." Alex's face was slack. "Yes, Mr. Summers, I am a telepath, and I can read your mind. You will do us a great service by helping us."
Charles retreated then, and Erik discussed some more details about the mission. The drive from then was even longer, and he could feel Erik's burning glances. Erik did not meddle often in Charles's affairs, but now, Charles emitted an aura of distraction. Alex had fallen asleep in the back, his face as peaceful and rested as a babe's.
They had deposited Alex in their hotel room before going to the gentleman's club for the night. Bright lights and the gaudy excess hit Charles in the face like spilt musk oil. The joint oozed sex, and a smiling woman led them inside. Charles felt her desire to leave the place and never come back, and though he wanted to sympathize with her, Erik would no doubt remind him of the real reason they were here at all.
"Which one is she?" Erik leaned over and handed a note to the bartender while ordering two scotches.
"I haven't seen her…. Disregard that, she's coming around now." Charles shot Erik a look before projecting: That one there. She's coming around right now on the bar.
Erik handed her a note, and the girl smirked, pocketing the bill down her back.
"You cats know it's double for the two of you," she pulled the red velvet curtain over the entryway and pulled what she thought of as her grab'em pose, a pose that would direct the eyes in certain areas and inspire thoughts of spending even more money, allowing her to leave even earlier.
"How about we show you ours and you show us yours?"
"Okay, that's not how this works, daddy-o."
Erik simply floated the bucket of champagne over to Charles who tipped out his glass.
"More tea, vicar?" Erik asked with a smirk on his face.
"Certainly." Angel realized they were like her, other-talented as her mother had once put it. And so, she flew for them.
"How would you like a job where you can keep your clothes on?" Charles asked her directly. "Ms. Salvadore, my name is Charles Xavier, and my associate is Erik Lensherr. As Mr. Lensherr will explain to you, we require the use of your gifts. For your help, you will be rewarded."
They bundled the girl into the car and drove back to the hotel where they had arranged separate rooms for their new guests.
Charles had crawled into bed, huddling into a ball. His head throbbed, and Erik's hands on his head were comforting. Erik manoeuvred Charles's head into his lap all the while coaxing out the tension. Charles's faced relaxed, and he opened his eyes.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you what happened this morning, but today was important. We need them. It feels wrong, collecting them solely for their ability." Charles gazed up at Erik and projected the dream into his mind. Erik's breath rushed out him.
"How long have you been…?"
Not for too long, but our arguments do tend to encourage them. They always have encouraged the nightmares. These are, however, significantly different than my normal nightmares.
"Charles, the fact that you have normal nightmares astounds me."
I know. I honestly think the stress is getting to me. Erik, I know you don't agree with me, but I still feel that there is hope for integration and peace.
Erik's hand abruptly stopped its comforting gesture. Moving his eyes away from the point they had previously been staring at, he looked again at Charles, noting the weary look on his face. He tilted Charles's face up and lightly kissed Charles's rosy lips. His rough fingers smoothed out the tension in Charles's cheek, caressing the deep purple marks under those blue eyes.
"That is a talk for another night. Go to sleep, Charles."