[fic] The First Meeting (Charles/Erik)
Title: The First Meeting
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: PG
Word count: 756
Warnings: er. totally fictionalized mob AU?
Summary: Erik was a mob boss. Erik also hated people. He didn’t stop in the middle of the sidewalk to talk to anyone, stranger or not.
He would soon find out that Charles Xavier would always be the exception-to everything.
Notes: Beta'd by
the_beanster . Inspired by this photoset and originally posted there.
Part one of the "It's The Family Business (The Pseudo-Mob 'Verse)" series, and the prequel to "Part of the Business," how Charles and Erik meet for the first time.
The First Meeting
Erik first met Charles when he felt him in his head. It was like a little fuzzball of a cat rubbing itself against the walls of his mind. Then there was a soft tap, hesitant and curious, a faint impression of hello? Who are you?
Erik had encountered telepaths before; rare as they were, they were coveted in his line in business. It was why he had learned to place walls around his mind in the first place, a necessity when fucking Shaw had a telepath under his employ. The walls did little to keep a telepath out if they truly wanted to read him, but at least they alerted him to a telepath’s presence in enough time to possibly defend himself.
But he’d never felt a presence like this in his life-warm and interested, but completely innocuous. The presence felt right in his mind, as if it had always belonged there, and that thought made him falter in the middle of the street. He didn’t lash out at it as he would have if it had been someone like Emma Frost. Instead, he looked up and down the street as he resumed walking, searching for the telepath.
Erik had made it across the street when he saw him stepping out from around the corner, up the street from the direction of the nearby school campus. A man with pale skin, rumpled brown hair, and blue eyes bright enough for Erik to make out from afar, and even while dressed like an octogenarian with a ridiculous blue cardigan and button down, he was-perfect.
They locked eyes and the telepath smiled at him, giving him a look through his lashes that said come to me, come closer.
Erik did.
The man was older than he’d seemed from afar, closer to Erik’s age than the early twenties he’d first thought. He was also shorter than expected, standing a good five inches shorter than Erik. Up close, closer than Erik would ever stand to anyone else, he loomed over the telepath.
The man simply looked back up at him, unbothered by Erik’s height. His eyes were so unbelievably blue.
Hello, a voice, the telepath’s voice, slipped into his head, more substantial than the faint impression from before. Who are you? A voice with a very pleasant British accent.
Erik raised an eyebrow and tapped his own temple with a finger. I should be asking you who you are, shouldn’t I?
But your shields are quite impressive; I’d rather not break them. I can’t tell, do you prefer Erik or Max?
Erik immediately stiffened, about to constrict the metal watch around the man’s wrist before reminding himself that he’d brought this upon himself. He let the watch go.
Max is dead. My name is Erik Lehnsherr.
The man gave him an almost sad look, before saying, Hello, Erik. My name is Charles Xavier.
Charles Xavier. Erik knew him, had heard of him-the telepathic not-quite-heir to the powerful Xavier family. Erik would have been concerned that Charles might be after the Lehnsherr family’s secrets, but he knew as everyone in the business did that Charles held no interest in organized crime, much to Sharon Xavier’s very vocal frustration. Erik hadn’t known, though, that Charles would look the way he did. Like everything Erik could physically desire bundled into one person. Like perfection.
A flush rose in Charles’ cheeks, and his lips parted slightly for a silent inhale of breath. It seemed that thought had slipped through; Erik didn’t mind. He found the sight-Charles, surprised and flustered-adorable.
Charles quickly recovered though, giving Erik a dirty smile and Erik’s body a slow, appreciative once-over. He licked his bottom lip, making it even redder than before, before returning his gaze up to Erik’s.
You’re not bad yourself, Mr. Lehnsherr.
Erik was aware that the grin he gave Charles was the one his subordinates equated with that of a shark.
“Well then, Mr. Xavier, coffee?” Erik asked aloud, because it was earlier than respectable to go out for drinks.
Charles cocked his head, assessing him for…something, before he smiled and said, “Tea. And then perhaps we’ll see about dinner.”
Tea, as Erik had hoped, led to dinner at a cozy family restaurant. This led to wine over a game of chess, and then to the best sex Erik had ever had in his life. He woke the next morning curled around Charles, and from then on, wanted to always wake up that way. The feeling, he found, was mutual.
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: PG
Word count: 756
Warnings: er. totally fictionalized mob AU?
Summary: Erik was a mob boss. Erik also hated people. He didn’t stop in the middle of the sidewalk to talk to anyone, stranger or not.
He would soon find out that Charles Xavier would always be the exception-to everything.
Notes: Beta'd by
the_beanster . Inspired by this photoset and originally posted there.
Part one of the "It's The Family Business (The Pseudo-Mob 'Verse)" series, and the prequel to "Part of the Business," how Charles and Erik meet for the first time.
The First Meeting
Erik first met Charles when he felt him in his head. It was like a little fuzzball of a cat rubbing itself against the walls of his mind. Then there was a soft tap, hesitant and curious, a faint impression of hello? Who are you?
Erik had encountered telepaths before; rare as they were, they were coveted in his line in business. It was why he had learned to place walls around his mind in the first place, a necessity when fucking Shaw had a telepath under his employ. The walls did little to keep a telepath out if they truly wanted to read him, but at least they alerted him to a telepath’s presence in enough time to possibly defend himself.
But he’d never felt a presence like this in his life-warm and interested, but completely innocuous. The presence felt right in his mind, as if it had always belonged there, and that thought made him falter in the middle of the street. He didn’t lash out at it as he would have if it had been someone like Emma Frost. Instead, he looked up and down the street as he resumed walking, searching for the telepath.
Erik had made it across the street when he saw him stepping out from around the corner, up the street from the direction of the nearby school campus. A man with pale skin, rumpled brown hair, and blue eyes bright enough for Erik to make out from afar, and even while dressed like an octogenarian with a ridiculous blue cardigan and button down, he was-perfect.
They locked eyes and the telepath smiled at him, giving him a look through his lashes that said come to me, come closer.
Erik did.
The man was older than he’d seemed from afar, closer to Erik’s age than the early twenties he’d first thought. He was also shorter than expected, standing a good five inches shorter than Erik. Up close, closer than Erik would ever stand to anyone else, he loomed over the telepath.
The man simply looked back up at him, unbothered by Erik’s height. His eyes were so unbelievably blue.
Hello, a voice, the telepath’s voice, slipped into his head, more substantial than the faint impression from before. Who are you? A voice with a very pleasant British accent.
Erik raised an eyebrow and tapped his own temple with a finger. I should be asking you who you are, shouldn’t I?
But your shields are quite impressive; I’d rather not break them. I can’t tell, do you prefer Erik or Max?
Erik immediately stiffened, about to constrict the metal watch around the man’s wrist before reminding himself that he’d brought this upon himself. He let the watch go.
Max is dead. My name is Erik Lehnsherr.
The man gave him an almost sad look, before saying, Hello, Erik. My name is Charles Xavier.
Charles Xavier. Erik knew him, had heard of him-the telepathic not-quite-heir to the powerful Xavier family. Erik would have been concerned that Charles might be after the Lehnsherr family’s secrets, but he knew as everyone in the business did that Charles held no interest in organized crime, much to Sharon Xavier’s very vocal frustration. Erik hadn’t known, though, that Charles would look the way he did. Like everything Erik could physically desire bundled into one person. Like perfection.
A flush rose in Charles’ cheeks, and his lips parted slightly for a silent inhale of breath. It seemed that thought had slipped through; Erik didn’t mind. He found the sight-Charles, surprised and flustered-adorable.
Charles quickly recovered though, giving Erik a dirty smile and Erik’s body a slow, appreciative once-over. He licked his bottom lip, making it even redder than before, before returning his gaze up to Erik’s.
You’re not bad yourself, Mr. Lehnsherr.
Erik was aware that the grin he gave Charles was the one his subordinates equated with that of a shark.
“Well then, Mr. Xavier, coffee?” Erik asked aloud, because it was earlier than respectable to go out for drinks.
Charles cocked his head, assessing him for…something, before he smiled and said, “Tea. And then perhaps we’ll see about dinner.”
Tea, as Erik had hoped, led to dinner at a cozy family restaurant. This led to wine over a game of chess, and then to the best sex Erik had ever had in his life. He woke the next morning curled around Charles, and from then on, wanted to always wake up that way. The feeling, he found, was mutual.