fic: My bed’s too big for just me
Title: My bed’s too big for just me (oh baby, baby, baby please)
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: PG-13, just to be safe
Word count: approx. 3,600
Summary: Five snippets from Erik's increasingly domestic life.
A/N: for chef_hector, who won me in helpsomalia and wanted some Beach AU Charles/Erik. so! for the purposes of this fic, we are going to pretend that Darwin did not die and no one got divorced and Charles wasn't paralyzed on the beach and everyone is happy and wonderful. this fic takes place sometime after Cuba.
title borrowed from Ra Ra Riot
1.
Erik wakes up each morning at six-thirty like clockwork. He’s never had to use an alarm before, because after so many years on his own, always watching his back, he’s conditioned himself to do these things. And even now, though life is considerably more comfortable for Erik and he doesn’t have to worry about leaving before he’s noticed or constantly running and searching and never looking back, he’s probably never going to be able to sleep in, even if he wants to, even if he’s exhausted from too much training the day before, even if it’s a lazy Saturday morning and he has nowhere to be for hours and hours. And this is all because of one Charles Francis Xavier, who insists on getting up early each morning to get a head start on the day, as he says, even though Charles is quite possibly the farthest from a morning person anyone can be.
Charles wakes up thanks to his alarm that he routinely sets each and every night before bed without fail, whether he sleeps at eight or doesn’t manage to crawl into bed until the wee hours of the morning. He wakes up at seven-thirty and grumbles unhappily, swearing that he’ll never, never wake up this early ever again and tomorrow, tomorrow he will sleep in and get the rest he so truly deserves. Of course, Charles never makes good on his promise, but that’s not the point.
Charles jostles Erik as he rolls ungracefully out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom to take a quick shower. Erik listens to the familiar hum of water and the occasional oof! as Charles bumps his head on the shower door or drops the shampoo bottle or finds some other creative way to hurt himself in the shower. By the time Charles makes his way out of the bathroom, a towel slung low on his hips, dripping water everywhere, Erik is plenty awake, idly watching with an amused smile as Charles fumbles about clumsily in his half-awake, half-asleep state. Charles only seems to notice that Erik is awake after he’s fully dressed, jumping in surprise with wide eyes.
“Oh!” he exclaims. His voice is still thick with sleep, words a little slower and heavier on the tongue than usual. “Good morning, Erik. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Erik smiles, a soft thing he didn’t think himself capable of anymore before meeting Charles. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed to stand, making his way over to Charles to stop him from putting on his cardigan inside out. Charles looks down at his clothing in surprise, as if confused as to what his cardigan is doing facing the wrong way. Erik snorts as he helps Charles slip his arms into the cardigan, noticing that Charles has done up the buttons on his shirt wrong. He reaches out to redo Charles’ buttons, and Charles glances down at Erik’s deft fingers and then up at Erik’s face in wonder, blue eyes still clouded with sleep.
“Thank you,” Charles says softly.
Erik smiles and runs his hands over Charles’ shirt, smoothing out stray wrinkles. He reaches up to push still damp strands of chestnut brown hair out of Charles’ eyes. Charles tilts his head up beckoningly, standing up a little on his toes, and Erik chuckles, leaning down to brush a kiss over Charles’ mouth.
“Go on, then,” Erik murmurs, nudging Charles in the direction of the door because he knows that Charles does this thing where he feels guilty for wasting too much time in the morning.
Charles smiles at Erik, and he smiles for everyone, because that’s just the type of person he is, but this is different. This is somehow something softer, sweeter, warm and intimate and just for Erik, and it makes Erik’s stomach do things he’d rather not think about, almost afraid of what it might mean.
By the time Erik makes his way downstairs, Charles is sitting at the kitchen table, idly reading the newspaper and sipping at his tea. There’s coffee ready and forgotten eggs sizzling on the stove, and Erik quickly moves to take the eggs off the stove before they’re irreparably ruined. Erik then pours himself a cup of coffee and settles down next to Charles, reading over his shoulder and stealing the rest of his toast.
2.
Erik knew this would happen sooner or later. Whether it was because the kids are crazy or because Charles is completely incapable of keeping all of them in check (or, more likely, both), Erik knew that this was bound to happen at some point. They’re supposed to be training right now, and everything would be fine except for that Sean has fallen while practicing his flying (not from too high up, thank god) and clutching his arm in pain, his face bone white. Raven’s on the phone frantically talking with the 911 dispatcher and Charles is fretting over Sean like a mother hen, wide-eyed and worried and absolutely clueless as to what to do.
“Let me,” Erik says and pushes forward to take a look at Sean’s arm. Sean gives Erik an apprehensive look, but Erik just says, “I’ve broken more bones in my time than you can count. Let me take a look” and Sean nods.
Sean’s arm is bleeding and his carefully designed wings, courtesy of Hank, are ripped from the nasty fall he took. Erik gently probes at Sean’s arm, and Sean winces, drawing in a breath sharply. Erik frowns.
“Definitely broken,” he announces, and he feels rather than hears Charles sighing, concern and distress and guilt, at pushing too hard, at not pushing hard enough, rolling off him in waves. Erik shifts his eyes to Charles. “I told you this was a bad idea.”
“Yes, thank you, Erik,” Charles snaps. They’ve had this conversation before, about how Charles is being too careless with all this training, how it’s too dangerous, how these kids are finally going to prove just how irresponsible they can be and then someone will get hurt. Charles, who likes to coach the kids more, insists that they’ve all mastered their abilities enough for this to be relatively safe, but Erik isn’t so sure. It takes years of intensive training to refine your skills enough to be considered “safe” and they’ve been at it for only a fraction of the time.
“You need to stop pushing so fucking hard,” Erik says irritably, still crouching by Sean. “One of these days something will go wrong, and we won’t just be looking at a couple of broken bones.”
Charles exhales harshly and rakes a hand through his hair. He looks away, guilty like he knows Erik is right but refuses to admit it, and maybe he’d say something more or maybe he wouldn’t but either way he doesn’t quite get the chance.
“Oh,” Raven quite nearly squeals, clapping her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide. “Oh, Erik, that’s so sweet! You care about us.”
Erik scowls at her, some little part of himself hating her a little bit out of muscle memory alone for being so right. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the corner of Charles’ mouth turning up, just a touch, a quiet I told you so brushing against the edges of his thoughts.
It turns out Sean’s arm is indeed broken in two places, and they have to make up some elaborate lie to avoid having to tell the doctor that Sean fell out of the sky trying to fly. Raven and Angel end up making something up about a bike and a squirrel and a very large tree, and even though Erik thinks it’s absolutely ridiculous, the doctor seems to believe it and gets Sean’s arm in a cast and then sends them all home.
The next day, the kids throw a huge party to celebrate that Erik has basically admitted that he really does love all of them like he’s been denying for months now. The party mostly involves lots of junk food and board games and a movie marathon as Erik curls up on the couch with his head resting in Charles’ lap, wondering how this is his life.
Charles runs his fingers absently through Erik’s hair and thinks you live for this.
Erik curls closer to Charles and shoots back a petulant shut up, but it lacks bite, and Erik is smiling secretly to himself the whole time.
3.
It’s usually a pretty bad sign when shrieks from downstairs manage to travel up to Charles’ study, through two floors to the topmost floor of the mansion. It’s usually when alarm bells should be going off in Erik’s head, because all that yelling can’t mean anything good.
Erik sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “It’s your turn,” he says, turning to Charles with what he hopes are imploring eyes.
Charles rolls his eyes at Erik, but he can’t quite hide the fond smile on his face. “I don’t know why I put up with you,” he mumbles as he sweeps out of the study to see what’s going on downstairs.
Erik smiles quietly and lets his eyes slip shut, exhausted from staying up late the night before exchanging philosophies with Charles followed by a day of running drills with the kids. He muses with a sort of quiet pride on how much the kids have all improved, so much more than just the lonely, rag-tag group of strays they were all those months ago. He thinks about how much more confident Raven has become, how much swifter Angel has become in her flying, how much stronger everyone is. He thinks of how much more of a team they are, how close they’ve become, and that’s as far as he gets, because the shouting from downstairs has picked up again, this time accompanied by Charles’ indignant voice echoing in his head, demanding Erik, get down here right now.
Erik reluctantly opens his eyes and drags himself downstairs even though his weary limbs want nothing more than for him to collapse in bed and sleep for the next twelve hours. By the time Erik gets downstairs, he can hear Charles shouting at what sounds like Alex and Sean and Darwin, and all three of them are shouting back. The moment Erik walks into the room, Charles turns to Erik and jabs his finger in the direction of the three boys.
“You deal with them,” Charles demands, irritated beyond all means, which is saying something, considering how level and understanding Charles is (he does have the reputation of being the “nice parent” after all). Charles closes his eyes and rubs at his temples, a sure sign that a self-induced stress headache is coming on.
Erik sighs and turns to the kids, crossing his arms over his chest. “Explain,” Erik barks out.
The three boys look back and forth between themselves, suddenly nervous, probably because Erik would imagine that he looks the picture of livid right now.
“It was Alex’s fault!” Sean suddenly cries out, and Alex punches him in the arm, defending himself that no, of course it wasn’t his fault, don’t be a moron, Sean, and they all start shouting at each other all over again and suddenly, Erik feels like he’s taking care of a bunch of five year olds, not teenagers.
“Quiet!” Erik shouts over all of them, which effectively shuts them up. He takes a deep breath and reminds himself that killing a bunch of teenagers he ordinarily quite likes is a very, very bad idea. “Now, I want you to calmly explain, from the beginning, exactly what happened.”
No one says a word.
“Alright, if that’s how it’s going to be,” Erik says decisively. “Darwin, you talk.”
Darwin’s eyes widen and he looks at the other two for backup, but Alex and Sean are very resolutely avoiding his eyes. Darwin shifts his gaze to Erik slightly hesitantly but squares his shoulders, not the least bit intimidated (or at least trying to put on that impression).
“Well,” Darwin says slowly. “It’s raining and it’s getting kind of late out, so we can’t go outside, and we were bored. So, we found this soccer ball and the living room’s pretty big, so we started passing the ball around and we may or may not have forgotten that there are expensive and fragile things in this room.”
Erik grins viciously, showing too many teeth. “Fantastic,” he says. “In that case, all three of you will clean up this mess, and when you’re done, you’ll go straight to your rooms. There will be no going into town for the three of you for the next couple weeks.”
“What?” Sean exclaims. “Two weeks? That’s ridiculous.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Alex grumbles.
Erik ignores them both. “I’ll assume you know where the broom and dustpan are,” he says briskly, voice bristling with an undercurrent of threat. “I’ll be back in five minutes. I expect all this glass to be cleaned up.”
The kids grumble as they reluctantly do as their told, and Erik leads Charles out of the room with a hand at the small of Charles’ back. Charles looks up at Erik and laughs, and when Erik raises an eyebrow at him and Charles just keeps on laughing, Erik can’t help grinning a little too, curling an arm around Charles’ waist.
“What?” Erik asks.
Charles grins and his eyes are so, so blue. “I’m starting to think you’re better at this whole parenting thing than I am,” he says.
Erik feels something strange and unfamiliar pull in his gut, something not uncomfortable but a little bit frightening. But he doesn’t say anything about it and just smiles fondly at Charles instead.
“Go upstairs and get yourself some aspirin for that headache,” Erik says softly.
Charles smiles knowingly at Erik and steps up on tiptoe to brush a kiss against Erik’s mouth, murmuring quietly, “I’ll be waiting.”
4.
Erik paces restlessly back and forth in the bedroom that he and Charles share. His eyebrows are furrowed in a way that Charles has mentioned makes him look frightening, and Charles is simply sitting calmly on the bed reading, humming along quietly to whatever song is playing in his head. The kids all went out for a night out on the town after practically bullying Charles into letting them, with wide eyes and pleading and oh, but we’ve been working so hard lately, Charles, we deserve a night out.
“Relax, Erik,” Charles says for the umpteenth time. He taps two fingers to his head. “I can still feel them. They’re fine.”
Erik grumbles unintelligibly under his breath and Charles sighs, setting his book down. He pats the bed next to him, beckoning Erik over. Erik pulls a face but relents, flopping down on the bed and burying his face in Charles’ chest. He mumbles something incoherent into the soft fabric of Charles’ nightshirt and Charles hums softly in acknowledgement.
“They’re not actually kids you know,” Charles points out. “They’re all plenty capable of taking care of themselves.”
Erik grunts. Charles runs his fingers soothingly through Erik’s hair.
“It’s very sweet of you to be worried about them, though,” Charles says, smiling like it’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to him.
Erik feels that weird pull in his gut again and frowns, unsure of what to make of it. “I’m not worried,” Erik protests, and Charles just laughs.
“Of course not, darling,” he agrees. “How silly of me to say so.”
Erik rolls his eyes and smacks Charles playfully, and Charles grins and kisses him, slow and sweet like he’s trying to savor it. Erik leans into it, chasing the kiss even when it’s over, and Charles smiles when Erik’s lips meet his again. And really, it’s a very bad kiss, but Erik finds that he doesn’t even care. It’s just Charles and he’s here and he’s warm and soft and Erik’s, and that’s enough. Erik never thought it could be this way, but, well, here he is.
Charles pulls away abruptly, sitting up a little straighter. He looks towards the window with expectant eyes, and Erik does his best not to look disappointed that Charles’ focus is anywhere but on him.
“They’re home,” Charles mumbles, jumping up.
Erik follows Charles to the window and slides his arms around Charles’ waist, resting his chin on Charles’ shoulder. Charles leans back against Erik’s chest and waves through the window down at the kids. Raven waves back, and after pausing a moment, Charles waves Erik away back to bed before doing the same.
“They had a good night,” Charles says. He must’ve been talking telepathically with Raven or someone. Charles stretches out on the bed and looks up at Erik, who’s propped up on one arm. “I’m glad,” Charles tells Erik. “They deserve time to just be young.”
Erik snorts. “You talk like we’re already old and crippled,” he says, which earns him a soft chuckle.
“Come here,” Charles beckons, pulling Erik down on top of him and meeting him halfway.
The kids aren’t exactly quiet as they clamber up the stairs, laughing and joking amongst themselves on the way to their rooms, but then again, Charles and Erik aren’t exactly quiet either, one floor above them, so it’s not like either of them can get angry with the kids for making such a ruckus. But it’s not like any of that matters, because none of them are half as responsible as they like to pretend they are, and no one was sleeping anyways.
5.
“What do you think, Erik?” Charles asks, carefully considering the two containers of frosting in his hands. “Cream cheese or vanilla?”
“I don’t know,” Erik says, exasperated. They’ve been at the supermarket for almost an hour now. “You know Raven better than I do. And anyways, aren’t those two basically the same thing anyways?”
Charles gives Erik his best don’t be silly look and stares at the icing some more before finally selecting the cream cheese frosting. Charles peers into their shopping basket, a worried look on his face.
“Do you think we have everything?” Charles says fretfully, rustling through the various items in their basket. And Erik sighs. They’re going to be here forever.
They end up spending about thirty more unnecessary minutes in the supermarket before finally buying everything and heading back to the mansion with everything they could possibly need to make a cake. It’s Raven’s birthday, and the rest have taken her out, promising to keep her away until Charles gives them the okay to bring her back so that they can surprise her with the cake. It’s a perfect plan, really, except for Charles is a terrible cook and burns everything and Erik isn’t terribly fond of sweets. Neither of them have any idea how to make a cake.
Somehow, in between measuring and mixing all the ingredients together and sticking the cake tin into the oven, they manage to cover just about everything in flour, including their own hands and arms and Charles’ hair. They followed the recipe exactly, though, so with any luck the cake should turn out alright. The kitchen is beginning to smell like warm, sweet sugar as Charles tries to tidy up the room a bit so it looks a little less like a bakery exploded, and then suddenly, Erik has a sort of epiphany - that oh, oh, he’s been living here with all of them for almost a year now and he hasn’t even noticed. He’s living in the same place with people who actually like him and want him around. He’s fussing over getting groceries and doing laundry and all sorts of ridiculous, mundane things he thought would never be a part of his life again.
Charles looks over at Erik with mild concern on his face. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing,” Erik says, smiling a little and shaking his head. He looks down at his feet for a moment before saying, “I’ve become awfully domestic, haven’t I?”
Charles gives Erik a thoughtful look. “Is that bad?” he asks, even though Erik is sure Charles already knows the answer. Sometimes, Charles just likes to hear Erik say it.
“No,” Erik admits. “No, not really. Just a little different, that’s all.”
Charles smiles and goes over to Erik to press a kiss to the corner of Erik’s mouth. “You don’t have to stay here if you’re feeling restless,” Charles tells him, and it kills Erik a little because the way Charles speaks almost makes it seem like Charles still believes that Erik would actually do that. “No one is forcing you to stay.”
“Charles,” Erik breathes and crushes their lips together, trying to kiss away any lingering traces of doubt from Charles’ mind.
Charles makes a soft keening sound at the back of his throat and bends easily to Erik’s touch, warm and pliant. They end up fucking right there against the kitchen counter, and then they have to scramble to get the cake out of the oven so it doesn’t burn, but everything turns out just fine in the end and Raven is very, very happy. As Raven opens her presents, glowing yellow eyes shining with joy, and the others sit around with mugs of hot cocoa and laugh in the dancing orange light from the fire, Erik wraps his arms around Charles and presses his face into the curve of Charles’ neck, projecting quietly into the space where Charles’ mind reaches his own.
Why on earth would I want to be anywhere else?
Charles smiles quietly and presses a light kiss to Erik’s hair.
I love you too, Erik.
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: PG-13, just to be safe
Word count: approx. 3,600
Summary: Five snippets from Erik's increasingly domestic life.
A/N: for chef_hector, who won me in helpsomalia and wanted some Beach AU Charles/Erik. so! for the purposes of this fic, we are going to pretend that Darwin did not die and no one got divorced and Charles wasn't paralyzed on the beach and everyone is happy and wonderful. this fic takes place sometime after Cuba.
title borrowed from Ra Ra Riot
1.
Erik wakes up each morning at six-thirty like clockwork. He’s never had to use an alarm before, because after so many years on his own, always watching his back, he’s conditioned himself to do these things. And even now, though life is considerably more comfortable for Erik and he doesn’t have to worry about leaving before he’s noticed or constantly running and searching and never looking back, he’s probably never going to be able to sleep in, even if he wants to, even if he’s exhausted from too much training the day before, even if it’s a lazy Saturday morning and he has nowhere to be for hours and hours. And this is all because of one Charles Francis Xavier, who insists on getting up early each morning to get a head start on the day, as he says, even though Charles is quite possibly the farthest from a morning person anyone can be.
Charles wakes up thanks to his alarm that he routinely sets each and every night before bed without fail, whether he sleeps at eight or doesn’t manage to crawl into bed until the wee hours of the morning. He wakes up at seven-thirty and grumbles unhappily, swearing that he’ll never, never wake up this early ever again and tomorrow, tomorrow he will sleep in and get the rest he so truly deserves. Of course, Charles never makes good on his promise, but that’s not the point.
Charles jostles Erik as he rolls ungracefully out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom to take a quick shower. Erik listens to the familiar hum of water and the occasional oof! as Charles bumps his head on the shower door or drops the shampoo bottle or finds some other creative way to hurt himself in the shower. By the time Charles makes his way out of the bathroom, a towel slung low on his hips, dripping water everywhere, Erik is plenty awake, idly watching with an amused smile as Charles fumbles about clumsily in his half-awake, half-asleep state. Charles only seems to notice that Erik is awake after he’s fully dressed, jumping in surprise with wide eyes.
“Oh!” he exclaims. His voice is still thick with sleep, words a little slower and heavier on the tongue than usual. “Good morning, Erik. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Erik smiles, a soft thing he didn’t think himself capable of anymore before meeting Charles. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed to stand, making his way over to Charles to stop him from putting on his cardigan inside out. Charles looks down at his clothing in surprise, as if confused as to what his cardigan is doing facing the wrong way. Erik snorts as he helps Charles slip his arms into the cardigan, noticing that Charles has done up the buttons on his shirt wrong. He reaches out to redo Charles’ buttons, and Charles glances down at Erik’s deft fingers and then up at Erik’s face in wonder, blue eyes still clouded with sleep.
“Thank you,” Charles says softly.
Erik smiles and runs his hands over Charles’ shirt, smoothing out stray wrinkles. He reaches up to push still damp strands of chestnut brown hair out of Charles’ eyes. Charles tilts his head up beckoningly, standing up a little on his toes, and Erik chuckles, leaning down to brush a kiss over Charles’ mouth.
“Go on, then,” Erik murmurs, nudging Charles in the direction of the door because he knows that Charles does this thing where he feels guilty for wasting too much time in the morning.
Charles smiles at Erik, and he smiles for everyone, because that’s just the type of person he is, but this is different. This is somehow something softer, sweeter, warm and intimate and just for Erik, and it makes Erik’s stomach do things he’d rather not think about, almost afraid of what it might mean.
By the time Erik makes his way downstairs, Charles is sitting at the kitchen table, idly reading the newspaper and sipping at his tea. There’s coffee ready and forgotten eggs sizzling on the stove, and Erik quickly moves to take the eggs off the stove before they’re irreparably ruined. Erik then pours himself a cup of coffee and settles down next to Charles, reading over his shoulder and stealing the rest of his toast.
2.
Erik knew this would happen sooner or later. Whether it was because the kids are crazy or because Charles is completely incapable of keeping all of them in check (or, more likely, both), Erik knew that this was bound to happen at some point. They’re supposed to be training right now, and everything would be fine except for that Sean has fallen while practicing his flying (not from too high up, thank god) and clutching his arm in pain, his face bone white. Raven’s on the phone frantically talking with the 911 dispatcher and Charles is fretting over Sean like a mother hen, wide-eyed and worried and absolutely clueless as to what to do.
“Let me,” Erik says and pushes forward to take a look at Sean’s arm. Sean gives Erik an apprehensive look, but Erik just says, “I’ve broken more bones in my time than you can count. Let me take a look” and Sean nods.
Sean’s arm is bleeding and his carefully designed wings, courtesy of Hank, are ripped from the nasty fall he took. Erik gently probes at Sean’s arm, and Sean winces, drawing in a breath sharply. Erik frowns.
“Definitely broken,” he announces, and he feels rather than hears Charles sighing, concern and distress and guilt, at pushing too hard, at not pushing hard enough, rolling off him in waves. Erik shifts his eyes to Charles. “I told you this was a bad idea.”
“Yes, thank you, Erik,” Charles snaps. They’ve had this conversation before, about how Charles is being too careless with all this training, how it’s too dangerous, how these kids are finally going to prove just how irresponsible they can be and then someone will get hurt. Charles, who likes to coach the kids more, insists that they’ve all mastered their abilities enough for this to be relatively safe, but Erik isn’t so sure. It takes years of intensive training to refine your skills enough to be considered “safe” and they’ve been at it for only a fraction of the time.
“You need to stop pushing so fucking hard,” Erik says irritably, still crouching by Sean. “One of these days something will go wrong, and we won’t just be looking at a couple of broken bones.”
Charles exhales harshly and rakes a hand through his hair. He looks away, guilty like he knows Erik is right but refuses to admit it, and maybe he’d say something more or maybe he wouldn’t but either way he doesn’t quite get the chance.
“Oh,” Raven quite nearly squeals, clapping her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide. “Oh, Erik, that’s so sweet! You care about us.”
Erik scowls at her, some little part of himself hating her a little bit out of muscle memory alone for being so right. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the corner of Charles’ mouth turning up, just a touch, a quiet I told you so brushing against the edges of his thoughts.
It turns out Sean’s arm is indeed broken in two places, and they have to make up some elaborate lie to avoid having to tell the doctor that Sean fell out of the sky trying to fly. Raven and Angel end up making something up about a bike and a squirrel and a very large tree, and even though Erik thinks it’s absolutely ridiculous, the doctor seems to believe it and gets Sean’s arm in a cast and then sends them all home.
The next day, the kids throw a huge party to celebrate that Erik has basically admitted that he really does love all of them like he’s been denying for months now. The party mostly involves lots of junk food and board games and a movie marathon as Erik curls up on the couch with his head resting in Charles’ lap, wondering how this is his life.
Charles runs his fingers absently through Erik’s hair and thinks you live for this.
Erik curls closer to Charles and shoots back a petulant shut up, but it lacks bite, and Erik is smiling secretly to himself the whole time.
3.
It’s usually a pretty bad sign when shrieks from downstairs manage to travel up to Charles’ study, through two floors to the topmost floor of the mansion. It’s usually when alarm bells should be going off in Erik’s head, because all that yelling can’t mean anything good.
Erik sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “It’s your turn,” he says, turning to Charles with what he hopes are imploring eyes.
Charles rolls his eyes at Erik, but he can’t quite hide the fond smile on his face. “I don’t know why I put up with you,” he mumbles as he sweeps out of the study to see what’s going on downstairs.
Erik smiles quietly and lets his eyes slip shut, exhausted from staying up late the night before exchanging philosophies with Charles followed by a day of running drills with the kids. He muses with a sort of quiet pride on how much the kids have all improved, so much more than just the lonely, rag-tag group of strays they were all those months ago. He thinks about how much more confident Raven has become, how much swifter Angel has become in her flying, how much stronger everyone is. He thinks of how much more of a team they are, how close they’ve become, and that’s as far as he gets, because the shouting from downstairs has picked up again, this time accompanied by Charles’ indignant voice echoing in his head, demanding Erik, get down here right now.
Erik reluctantly opens his eyes and drags himself downstairs even though his weary limbs want nothing more than for him to collapse in bed and sleep for the next twelve hours. By the time Erik gets downstairs, he can hear Charles shouting at what sounds like Alex and Sean and Darwin, and all three of them are shouting back. The moment Erik walks into the room, Charles turns to Erik and jabs his finger in the direction of the three boys.
“You deal with them,” Charles demands, irritated beyond all means, which is saying something, considering how level and understanding Charles is (he does have the reputation of being the “nice parent” after all). Charles closes his eyes and rubs at his temples, a sure sign that a self-induced stress headache is coming on.
Erik sighs and turns to the kids, crossing his arms over his chest. “Explain,” Erik barks out.
The three boys look back and forth between themselves, suddenly nervous, probably because Erik would imagine that he looks the picture of livid right now.
“It was Alex’s fault!” Sean suddenly cries out, and Alex punches him in the arm, defending himself that no, of course it wasn’t his fault, don’t be a moron, Sean, and they all start shouting at each other all over again and suddenly, Erik feels like he’s taking care of a bunch of five year olds, not teenagers.
“Quiet!” Erik shouts over all of them, which effectively shuts them up. He takes a deep breath and reminds himself that killing a bunch of teenagers he ordinarily quite likes is a very, very bad idea. “Now, I want you to calmly explain, from the beginning, exactly what happened.”
No one says a word.
“Alright, if that’s how it’s going to be,” Erik says decisively. “Darwin, you talk.”
Darwin’s eyes widen and he looks at the other two for backup, but Alex and Sean are very resolutely avoiding his eyes. Darwin shifts his gaze to Erik slightly hesitantly but squares his shoulders, not the least bit intimidated (or at least trying to put on that impression).
“Well,” Darwin says slowly. “It’s raining and it’s getting kind of late out, so we can’t go outside, and we were bored. So, we found this soccer ball and the living room’s pretty big, so we started passing the ball around and we may or may not have forgotten that there are expensive and fragile things in this room.”
Erik grins viciously, showing too many teeth. “Fantastic,” he says. “In that case, all three of you will clean up this mess, and when you’re done, you’ll go straight to your rooms. There will be no going into town for the three of you for the next couple weeks.”
“What?” Sean exclaims. “Two weeks? That’s ridiculous.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Alex grumbles.
Erik ignores them both. “I’ll assume you know where the broom and dustpan are,” he says briskly, voice bristling with an undercurrent of threat. “I’ll be back in five minutes. I expect all this glass to be cleaned up.”
The kids grumble as they reluctantly do as their told, and Erik leads Charles out of the room with a hand at the small of Charles’ back. Charles looks up at Erik and laughs, and when Erik raises an eyebrow at him and Charles just keeps on laughing, Erik can’t help grinning a little too, curling an arm around Charles’ waist.
“What?” Erik asks.
Charles grins and his eyes are so, so blue. “I’m starting to think you’re better at this whole parenting thing than I am,” he says.
Erik feels something strange and unfamiliar pull in his gut, something not uncomfortable but a little bit frightening. But he doesn’t say anything about it and just smiles fondly at Charles instead.
“Go upstairs and get yourself some aspirin for that headache,” Erik says softly.
Charles smiles knowingly at Erik and steps up on tiptoe to brush a kiss against Erik’s mouth, murmuring quietly, “I’ll be waiting.”
4.
Erik paces restlessly back and forth in the bedroom that he and Charles share. His eyebrows are furrowed in a way that Charles has mentioned makes him look frightening, and Charles is simply sitting calmly on the bed reading, humming along quietly to whatever song is playing in his head. The kids all went out for a night out on the town after practically bullying Charles into letting them, with wide eyes and pleading and oh, but we’ve been working so hard lately, Charles, we deserve a night out.
“Relax, Erik,” Charles says for the umpteenth time. He taps two fingers to his head. “I can still feel them. They’re fine.”
Erik grumbles unintelligibly under his breath and Charles sighs, setting his book down. He pats the bed next to him, beckoning Erik over. Erik pulls a face but relents, flopping down on the bed and burying his face in Charles’ chest. He mumbles something incoherent into the soft fabric of Charles’ nightshirt and Charles hums softly in acknowledgement.
“They’re not actually kids you know,” Charles points out. “They’re all plenty capable of taking care of themselves.”
Erik grunts. Charles runs his fingers soothingly through Erik’s hair.
“It’s very sweet of you to be worried about them, though,” Charles says, smiling like it’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to him.
Erik feels that weird pull in his gut again and frowns, unsure of what to make of it. “I’m not worried,” Erik protests, and Charles just laughs.
“Of course not, darling,” he agrees. “How silly of me to say so.”
Erik rolls his eyes and smacks Charles playfully, and Charles grins and kisses him, slow and sweet like he’s trying to savor it. Erik leans into it, chasing the kiss even when it’s over, and Charles smiles when Erik’s lips meet his again. And really, it’s a very bad kiss, but Erik finds that he doesn’t even care. It’s just Charles and he’s here and he’s warm and soft and Erik’s, and that’s enough. Erik never thought it could be this way, but, well, here he is.
Charles pulls away abruptly, sitting up a little straighter. He looks towards the window with expectant eyes, and Erik does his best not to look disappointed that Charles’ focus is anywhere but on him.
“They’re home,” Charles mumbles, jumping up.
Erik follows Charles to the window and slides his arms around Charles’ waist, resting his chin on Charles’ shoulder. Charles leans back against Erik’s chest and waves through the window down at the kids. Raven waves back, and after pausing a moment, Charles waves Erik away back to bed before doing the same.
“They had a good night,” Charles says. He must’ve been talking telepathically with Raven or someone. Charles stretches out on the bed and looks up at Erik, who’s propped up on one arm. “I’m glad,” Charles tells Erik. “They deserve time to just be young.”
Erik snorts. “You talk like we’re already old and crippled,” he says, which earns him a soft chuckle.
“Come here,” Charles beckons, pulling Erik down on top of him and meeting him halfway.
The kids aren’t exactly quiet as they clamber up the stairs, laughing and joking amongst themselves on the way to their rooms, but then again, Charles and Erik aren’t exactly quiet either, one floor above them, so it’s not like either of them can get angry with the kids for making such a ruckus. But it’s not like any of that matters, because none of them are half as responsible as they like to pretend they are, and no one was sleeping anyways.
5.
“What do you think, Erik?” Charles asks, carefully considering the two containers of frosting in his hands. “Cream cheese or vanilla?”
“I don’t know,” Erik says, exasperated. They’ve been at the supermarket for almost an hour now. “You know Raven better than I do. And anyways, aren’t those two basically the same thing anyways?”
Charles gives Erik his best don’t be silly look and stares at the icing some more before finally selecting the cream cheese frosting. Charles peers into their shopping basket, a worried look on his face.
“Do you think we have everything?” Charles says fretfully, rustling through the various items in their basket. And Erik sighs. They’re going to be here forever.
They end up spending about thirty more unnecessary minutes in the supermarket before finally buying everything and heading back to the mansion with everything they could possibly need to make a cake. It’s Raven’s birthday, and the rest have taken her out, promising to keep her away until Charles gives them the okay to bring her back so that they can surprise her with the cake. It’s a perfect plan, really, except for Charles is a terrible cook and burns everything and Erik isn’t terribly fond of sweets. Neither of them have any idea how to make a cake.
Somehow, in between measuring and mixing all the ingredients together and sticking the cake tin into the oven, they manage to cover just about everything in flour, including their own hands and arms and Charles’ hair. They followed the recipe exactly, though, so with any luck the cake should turn out alright. The kitchen is beginning to smell like warm, sweet sugar as Charles tries to tidy up the room a bit so it looks a little less like a bakery exploded, and then suddenly, Erik has a sort of epiphany - that oh, oh, he’s been living here with all of them for almost a year now and he hasn’t even noticed. He’s living in the same place with people who actually like him and want him around. He’s fussing over getting groceries and doing laundry and all sorts of ridiculous, mundane things he thought would never be a part of his life again.
Charles looks over at Erik with mild concern on his face. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing,” Erik says, smiling a little and shaking his head. He looks down at his feet for a moment before saying, “I’ve become awfully domestic, haven’t I?”
Charles gives Erik a thoughtful look. “Is that bad?” he asks, even though Erik is sure Charles already knows the answer. Sometimes, Charles just likes to hear Erik say it.
“No,” Erik admits. “No, not really. Just a little different, that’s all.”
Charles smiles and goes over to Erik to press a kiss to the corner of Erik’s mouth. “You don’t have to stay here if you’re feeling restless,” Charles tells him, and it kills Erik a little because the way Charles speaks almost makes it seem like Charles still believes that Erik would actually do that. “No one is forcing you to stay.”
“Charles,” Erik breathes and crushes their lips together, trying to kiss away any lingering traces of doubt from Charles’ mind.
Charles makes a soft keening sound at the back of his throat and bends easily to Erik’s touch, warm and pliant. They end up fucking right there against the kitchen counter, and then they have to scramble to get the cake out of the oven so it doesn’t burn, but everything turns out just fine in the end and Raven is very, very happy. As Raven opens her presents, glowing yellow eyes shining with joy, and the others sit around with mugs of hot cocoa and laugh in the dancing orange light from the fire, Erik wraps his arms around Charles and presses his face into the curve of Charles’ neck, projecting quietly into the space where Charles’ mind reaches his own.
Why on earth would I want to be anywhere else?
Charles smiles quietly and presses a light kiss to Erik’s hair.
I love you too, Erik.