Aren't we all?
EXHIBIT B!
Obligatory backstory: There's a deleted scene from "First Class" where Erik stares longingly at a little boy standing with his mother in the middle of the airport in/on his way to Argentina. It pretty much solidifies his Poor Woobie Status tenfold, and, well, it also inspired this.
Summary: On their road trip, Erik keeps getting side-tracked. Written with the "Travel" prompt from firstclass100 in mind; 300 words, rated PG. The idea came from a Louis C.K. bit where he talks about glutting himself on a Cinnabon at the airport "that I arrived at" and how he hates himself for it, but since Cinnabon apparently wasn't a thing until the mid-'80s, I ended up going with the mention of a generic "cinnamon roll" instead. Anyways:
They’re flying out to meet their latest mutant find, and Erik, usually brisk to the point of being rude, is slowing them down. “Erik, come on, we’re going to be late for …” Charles trails off, realizing that he lost Erik quite a few paces ago. He walks back towards the other man, whose face is frozen. “Erik?” he asks, and peers in the same direction. “Oh,” he says, noticing the same young boy standing in front of a doting, pretty mother.
“Erik, we need to go,” Charles reminds the other man, touching him briefly on the shoulder. Erik recoils slightly, but then blinks a few times and nods. His eyes are wide and he looks like he might burst into tears at any moment. “Would you like a bite to eat before we board our flight?” Charles asks gently. “I could use a cinnamon roll myself.”
Erik nods, and begins trudging alongside Charles towards their destination. “Sorry,” he mutters, and Charles quickly shakes his head to assure the other man that it’s hardly anything to apologize for. All the same, however, as he watches Erik sniffle his way through his strudel-drizzled snack, he privately hopes this won’t be a continued motif the way Erik’s penchant for chucking lamps and the alarm clock at him during a nightmare have become part of Charles’ nightly routine. It’s just, there are a lot of small children traveling with their mothers, he thinks critically. He spots another one, and reaches out to grip Erik’s shoulder before the other man can incline his head enough to see it for himself.
“When we board, I could really use a drink,” Charles says brightly, and Erik nods. Then he briefly turns all of the kids in the vicinity into innocuous-looking businessmen, and there’s no further incident.
Obligatory backstory: There's a deleted scene from "First Class" where Erik stares longingly at a little boy standing with his mother in the middle of the airport in/on his way to Argentina. It pretty much solidifies his Poor Woobie Status tenfold, and, well, it also inspired this.
Summary: On their road trip, Erik keeps getting side-tracked. Written with the "Travel" prompt from firstclass100 in mind; 300 words, rated PG. The idea came from a Louis C.K. bit where he talks about glutting himself on a Cinnabon at the airport "that I arrived at" and how he hates himself for it, but since Cinnabon apparently wasn't a thing until the mid-'80s, I ended up going with the mention of a generic "cinnamon roll" instead. Anyways:
They’re flying out to meet their latest mutant find, and Erik, usually brisk to the point of being rude, is slowing them down. “Erik, come on, we’re going to be late for …” Charles trails off, realizing that he lost Erik quite a few paces ago. He walks back towards the other man, whose face is frozen. “Erik?” he asks, and peers in the same direction. “Oh,” he says, noticing the same young boy standing in front of a doting, pretty mother.
“Erik, we need to go,” Charles reminds the other man, touching him briefly on the shoulder. Erik recoils slightly, but then blinks a few times and nods. His eyes are wide and he looks like he might burst into tears at any moment. “Would you like a bite to eat before we board our flight?” Charles asks gently. “I could use a cinnamon roll myself.”
Erik nods, and begins trudging alongside Charles towards their destination. “Sorry,” he mutters, and Charles quickly shakes his head to assure the other man that it’s hardly anything to apologize for. All the same, however, as he watches Erik sniffle his way through his strudel-drizzled snack, he privately hopes this won’t be a continued motif the way Erik’s penchant for chucking lamps and the alarm clock at him during a nightmare have become part of Charles’ nightly routine. It’s just, there are a lot of small children traveling with their mothers, he thinks critically. He spots another one, and reaches out to grip Erik’s shoulder before the other man can incline his head enough to see it for himself.
“When we board, I could really use a drink,” Charles says brightly, and Erik nods. Then he briefly turns all of the kids in the vicinity into innocuous-looking businessmen, and there’s no further incident.