Cherik Fanfiction: There is no Future Without You - 2/7
Title: There is no Future Without You
Word Count: 5 364
Pairing: Cherik
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Rating: M ...? I'm honestly bad at figuring out what rating things should be - Just look at the warnings.
Warnings: Love of the homosexual nature. Implications of sexual situations. Oh, and swearing.
Summary: Charles and Erik were friends when they were children - Until certain circumstances tore them apart. Many years later, when Erik moves to England so that he can study at Oxford University, he certainly doesn't expect to run into his childhood friend again.In fact, he doesn't expect any of the events that follow.
Notes: This is something that I wrote for
ile_o, who drew this amazingly cute fanart for me (Which can be found here), gushing about how much she wanted to see a fic where Charles and Erik meet as children - But with the age difference. And this is my response to that cos the image just wouldn't leave me alone. So, here it is darling, and I hope to the gods of Tuesday that you like it. >///<
Part One Here
~X~
The next several years of Erik’s life were, for lack of a better term, unremarkable. He was never adopted into a new family, and spent his years growing up in the Orphanage he’d been unceremoniously dumped at. He persevered with his education and majored in Electrical Theory - Something his teacher said he excelled at - As well as metal work, something he, admittedly, cheated in quite a lot considering his mutation. He enjoyed it all the same though, so he didn’t care if he got filthy looks from his peers when he made use of his powers.
At the age of Sixteen, Erik moved out of the orphanage and found a shabby, one bedroom apartment, and he started working part time at a questionable mechanic’s to simply support himself. It was around that time that Erik’s life took a decidedly darker turn.
There were a mere two other mutants at the high school Erik went to - Emma Frost, and Sebastian Shaw, and they were nothing like the Mutants that Erik remembered from back in New York. Erik might only have a vague impression of his time in New York now, buried under other memories and time as those days were, but the impression he had was of warmth and trying to co-habituate with the human population of the school. With Shaw and Frost, it was completely different. They ruled the school, and the human’s weren’t simply wary of them because they ‘didn’t understand’ - The Human’s were actually afraid of Frost and Shaw.
Erik had been hesitant to follow in their footsteps, he had a distinct impression that someone from his past with alarmingly blue eyes would surely be disappointed if he let himself walk that path, but Erik couldn’t for the life of him remember if that impression was of an actual person, or just a figment of his childhood.
In the end, he allowed himself to be swept up in it all - allowed himself to develop a cold exterior that no one could break through. Allowed himself to become a predator, someone who was viewed as dangerous. He became someone who was volatile, who went out and got into drunken fights of a weekend. He, in essence, became Shaw’s bodyguard - Not that Shaw needed one, he was dangerous in his own right, but Erik was given the role regardless.
And with time, Erik remembered less and less of the blue eyed boy from his childhood. His mind eventually stopped reminding him that ‘he’ would surely be disappointed if he could see him now - Erik stopped caring what this phantom from his past thought and allowed Shaw to make use of him, allowed him to help fine tune his powers to the point that Erik was quite possibly feared more than Shaw himself by the time he reached his Senior year.
Then, before long, it came time to apply for College’s and although Erik hadn’t given it any prior thought, considering Exams were in a week’s time, his Electrical Theory Teacher pulled him aside after one lesson.
“Erik, you could have a future in this field, you and I both know you’re a natural at it. Your course work has been brilliant.” He paused, and then continued on in a rush, “Erik, I want you to consider applying for Oxford University. They provide the best course in Electrical Theory, and I’m sure anything else that you could possibly want.”
“Oxford?” Erik repeated, sure he’d misunderstood the teacher. The balding man simply nodded. “That’s in England.”
“I know, I know. But … Well, consider it, won’t you? I’ve already recommended you for a scholarship, and the professors were rather impressed with your work, so I’m fairly sure it’s safe to say the option’s there if you want it. They’d pay for you to fly over, and you’d have an on-campus dorm. You’d even get an allowance as long as you can maintain a respectable level of work and-”
“I’ll do it,” Erik cut across the teacher’s rambling.
“Er- Well, there’s no need to decide right now. You can think it through and make sure it’s what you want…” The teacher silenced himself at Erik’s quelling glare.
“I said I would do it,” he repeated, silently thinking that it was a good opportunity to cut ties with Shaw and Frost. He’d run out of patience with them, and was tired of Shaw’s attempts at trying to control him. No longer was he the easily moulded, impressionable freshman.
Less than 24 hours after his Exams finished, Erik had packed his life into a single suitcase, thrown out whatever he couldn’t fit in that suitcase, and was sitting on a plane, making his way to England where a representative from Oxford University would meet him and escort him to the dorms.
How could he have known that what seemed like pure luck was in fact fate’s way of setting him back on track for what she had planned for him?
---
Even before he set foot on campus, Erik felt ... Strange. It was like leaving the house and suspecting you’d left the oven on. There was some tickling feeling in the back of his mind that reminded him of something, something he couldn’t put his finger on. And then, out of the blue, he had a memory - Or, he presumed it was a memory - of someone saying ‘Oh, you don’t remember. That’s anticlimactic,’ in a voice that was achingly familiar, and then the feeling was completely gone.
Erik paid it little mind though, he was slightly more concerned with finding what dorm he was going to be living in for the next three years, at least, and whether his room mate was going to be tolerable at least.
He came to a stop in front of the room number scribbled onto the sheet of paper that irritating escort had given him - He’d been a hummer, so Erik had told him to just give him the map and leave his sight, or else he’d be one testicle less. Suffice to say the escort had paled considerably, thrown he paper work at Erik and all but scarpered away - and regarded the door with trepidation.
Generally speaking, he did not get along with people well, and it was even worse if they were human. No matter how much he tried to stress it would be more beneficial for his future roommate that Erik be given his own room, the receptionist informed him that they were aware of his “special circumstances” and that a suitable arrangement was already in place. Erik was certain that his idea of a suitable arrangement, and the receptionist’s would be completely different.
Fixing his fiercest scowl on his face so that his roommate would know not to even bother, Erik opened the door - rolling his eyes to himself at how simple locks were to manoeuvre - and stopped abruptly as he realised his roommate was in fact a man with the appearance of a hell-demon, complete with the thrashing tail.
The sight of the red skin brought something to mind, something elusive and he knew, he knew that he knew this person - How many mutants did you meet with fire-red skin and a tail - But Erik simply couldn’t place it. It was like trying to chase down the fragments of a fading dream.
“Hmm. It would appear he was right then. Pity,” the red-mutant sighed, his golden gaze fixed on Erik as he stood there, hands stuffed into pockets as he wracked his brain for where he knew this mutant from. He didn’t meet him through Shaw, of that he was certain, but then … Before? Erik couldn’t recall. He’d made a point to forget the days with his mother.
And there was that feeling in the back of his mind again, a tickling like someone was sitting there with his consciousness, but the only Telepath that he’d known of was Emma, and she had a tendency to barge her way into Erik’s mind when she saw fit, not flutter about unobtrusively. There was no way her power could stretch over continents, was there?
Belatedly, Erik realised he was still standing in the doorway staring curiously at the other mutant, so he made a point to walk in with his head held high, make it clear that he was not to be intimidated. He didn’t care if this red-Mutant was older than he was, Erik was no push-over.
The Hell demon’s lips twitched once before he rolled his eyes, “You honestly haven’t changed,” he muttered, and Erik arched his eyebrow curiously. So it wasn’t his imagination then, this mutant did know him.
“Forgive me. My name is Azazel, and you can take whichever bunk you want - I’m hardly ever here enough to care.”
Erik’s eyes narrowed slightly at the name, a brief, hazy image of a teleporting mutant coming to mind. An image that was closely followed by a bell-like laughter he felt like he should remember.
“I know you,” Erik said slowly, cautiously, watching Azazel as he threw his bag up onto the lower bunk.
“Indeed, but it was a long time ago, I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. Him however -” and Erik watched as Azazel cut himself off abruptly, looking up at the roof as though he were deep in thought, and then he muttered, “Fool,” under his breath. Had Erik not spent years in close proximity with a telepath, he might have thought that was directed at him, but he was able to recognise when a comment was meant for someone else.
“There are more than just us two here, aren’t there?” Erik asked, though he knew the answer already, and was intrigued by the thought, intrigued by the idea of mutants not under Shaw’s control. Though, he was also slightly uneasy at the idea of another telepath. It had never been pleasant having Emma know his every thought, whim and secret.
Azazel sighed heavily before saying, “Yes, and I’m sure you’ll meet them before long. Forgive me, Lensherr, but I have other business to attend to. Make yourself at home - I wasn’t joking when I said that I’m hardly ever here,” and with one last nod at Erik, the demon dissipated into a sulphuric wisp, and the smell brought back memories of dodgeball and yelling about not cheating by teleporting all over the place.
Erik waited until the smell of Sulphur dissipated completely before pinching his nose between his thumb and finger. Talk about a blast from the past. As he began unpacking, Erik realised he probably should have asked what Azazel was doing in England anyway. Besides the obvious that is.
Until he remembered that he didn’t really care what Azazel was doing in England - He hadn’t even remembered he knew him until ten seconds ago. And so, with a shrug Erik pulled out his schedule and started memorising where his classes were and how to get there, if only so he could avoid having to ask someone.
---
Erik settled into life at Oxford easily enough. It was strange to be staying on campus at first, but he decided that it was more convenient this way. He didn’t have to borrow books from the library all the time, and he could stay in the Campus’ library as late as he wanted, which actually made him happier than he would ever admit aloud.
One of his favourite times quickly became that point in the night when there were only a handful of students left in the extensive library and he could roam through the shelves without needing to be bothered about others loitering at his shoulders, shifting as if trying to peer around and see all books available, or which one he had in hand. It was annoying, and Erik often wanted nothing more than to pick them up by the zips in their jackets, or jeans or their watches and unceremoniously toss them to the other side of the Library. He came very close to doing so on several occasions, but as soon as Erik turned his glare on those foolish enough to bother him, they seemed to realise who they were annoying and they hurriedly found somewhere else to look.
Azazel, true to his word, was hardly ever in their shared room, and so Erik had practically taken it over with several stacks of Electronic books, or books about magnetic theory, not to mention the various amounts of metal that was scattered about the room. Erik simply felt more secure having metal on hand - One thing spending time with Shaw had taught him was to be cautious, no matter the environment you’re in, which is precisely why Erik always had at least one coin in his pocket as he was walking around. Even the bathroom had several screws and coins lying on the basin.
The only thing that bothered him about life at Oxford was the feeling that he was not the only one in his head. It wasn’t often that Erik would feel that fluttering presence at the back of his mind, but it frustrated him whenever he did. Although it was a light presence, and not intrusive in the slightest, it still annoyed Erik that a telepath would just invite themselves into his mind as if they knew him and had a right to be there, and it was highly distracting to realise you weren’t alone in your mind, especially when you were trying to memorise complicated equations and formulas. More than once Erik had none too gently told whoever it was to kindly fuck off, and he was never sure whether he should be amused, or offended that the presence would swell with surprise each and every time they were caught, before flaring indignantly and finally fading away, resentment evident in the lingering traces of them.
More annoying than the telepath inviting themselves into Erik’s mind though, was the bewildering warmth and familiarity that would initially spread through him at the feel of their presence. It frustrated him because a stranger was trying to sneak into his mind, and so his mind had no business relaxing at the feeling of their consciousness’ meeting, as if he were greeting a friend after a long trip. It was just startling that his consciousness would so readily accept another’s presence considering how cautious he was in daily life.
Another thing that Azazel had been correct about, was the fact that Erik would surely meet the other mutants that were there at Oxford. The first was possibly the one that startled him most, however.
Erik had been quite contentedly reading through Dracula, when he suddenly felt that he wasn’t alone - Not in the same way he’d been dealing with for weeks now, but in the physical sense. Reaching with his powers for the coin in his pocket, Erik looked up with a glare on his face. The glare faltered slightly and turned to a frown of bewilderment, however, as he was met by his own face staring at him, his lips pulled into a bemused smile that simply didn’t suit him.
“I always thought we’d meet again,” Erik’s own voice told him, and he arched an eyebrow sceptically at the uncanny impostor.
“Did you now?” he asked, pulling the coin out of his pocket with barely discernable movements of his fingers.
And then his-doppelganger’s eyes shimmered and turned into memorable reptilian yellow, and Erik fought down the want to groan. Sitting before him was one mutant he had never been able to forget, her power simply too fascinating.
“Raven,” he acknowledged, and the obscene way his lips stretched into a pleased smile didn’t suit his face at all, Erik decided, before his faux-self blurred slightly and a woman with shoulder length blonde hair and light blue eyes looked at him. Erik simply frowned at her, “That is not the real Raven,” he stated, disdain barely concealed in his tone. Was she ashamed of her true form? How ridiculous. They were the future, and she was hiding behind a mask?
The woman before him met his gaze balefully before allowing herself to shift into her azure self. It didn’t escape Erik’s attention that she flinched at the gasps of horror as she did so, and it annoyed him that she did so, because it was his firm opinion that she looked better in her natural form. She should be proud of the fact that she was different, proud of who she was.
“You’re beautiful,” Erik commented, taking care to keep any possible inflection out of his tone, “You shouldn’t be ashamed of who you are,” and he was rewarded with a winning smile for his words.
“You’ve become the charmer, Lensherr,” Raven said, cocking her head to the side as she looked over at him, “Is that how you greet all the women you meet? Or just those from your past?”
Erik simply snorted derisively, fixed his gaze back on his book, and retorted, “Don’t misunderstand, it was an objective observation.”
To his surprise, Raven actually laughed at his words, and Erik felt distinctly uncomfortable for a moment. He wasn’t used to people laughing at him, they normally avoided him completely. Was it because she knew him from before his time with Shaw that Raven was unaffected by his rough demeanour? Erik frowned slightly at the thought before deciding that it didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if he was going to start to gush about old times or let the shapeshifter behind his defences just because she wasn’t scared of him.
Unexpectedly, the silence that stretched on between Raven and himself was almost … Companionable. She seemed content to watch the people as they went by, trying on their hair styles or eye colour once they were out of sight, while Erik pretended to read his book. As Erik’s eyes skated unseeingly over the words of the novel though, he couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. There was a vital person, someone related to Raven, that was missing. Seeing her brought back carefully buried memories of blue eyes and warm laughter, of someone he was sure had been important. Erik frowned as he thought about it, unable to recall anything outside of ‘startling blue eyes’.
He put it out of his mind, however, as Raven spoke to him, asking what it was that brought him to England. For a moment, Erik missed the times when people knew not to talk to him, it usually saved him the irritation that came with small talk.
Tickling at the edge of his consciousness, he could feel the unnamed telepath’s amusement, and Erik sent the presence a half-hearted Be amused elsewhere, an almost smile playing with the edges of his mouth.
Meeting up with Hank had been decidedly less startling. Erik hadn’t known it, but Hank was actually in his Electrical Theory lecture class, since it was an ‘open’ class. The other mutant hadn’t even made his presence known to Erik until a few days after meeting Raven.
Erik had been distinctly irritated when somebody dared stand in his way of the chalkboard one afternoon, and that feeling simply intensified when he realised it was some timid person whose mouth was opening and closing, apparently unable to get the words out.
He was about two seconds away from snarling ‘Spit it out, or fuck off’ before the uncertain male said in an almost quavering voice, “Erik Lensherr, right?” and his eye twitched, actually twitched at the question.
The timid classmate took a step back and bit on his lips before saying a rush, “I’m sorry, it’s just that I went to school with you and Raven, and she said she’d spoken to you so I’d thought-”
“Fuck. Just, shut up,” Erik ground out, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath, and the other man’s mouth had closed with an audible snap, “Who are you?”
“Hank. Hank McCoy,” Erik noticed the way he was shifting from foot to foot and was decidedly frustrated by it, the name also meant absolutely nothing to him.
“Don’t remember you,” he said, a touch dismissively, hoping that would be enough for Hank to take the hint and leave him alone. Instead, Hank smiled ruefully and started to play with the strap of his bag.
“I didn’t think you would, Azazel said you didn’t remember him either,” and Erik couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow with interest at that.
“You’re one of us then?” he asked, taking Hank in with new eyes. He still found the shifting and timidness irritating - As he had thought with Raven, if Hank was a mutant, he should be prouder - but if Hank was a mutant … Well, Erik was at least slightly less inclined to throw him to the other side of the room to move him out of the way.
So, with self control the like of which Erik wasn’t sure he had, he simply sighed, and said through clenched teeth, “Wonderful as our reunion might be, can you move Hank? I’m in the middle of copying the notes down.”
Hank, as Erik expected, squeaked with surprise, before hurriedly sitting down in the seat closest to him, apparently intent on catching up on old times or something equally asinine. Erik had to take a few calming breaths before he could get back to his notes - The seat Hank was sitting on would have crumpled beneath him otherwise, metal legs and all.
---
Almost two months in to the University term, Erik still has no idea who the Telepath is. He’s tried asking the other mutants, but Hank pointedly changes the subject when Erik brings it up with him, and Azazel simply shrugs and says “You’ll find out eventually.” As for Raven, she simply grins mischievously and asks “You really have no clue?” as though he’s being incredibly dense. As for Erik … He is getting extremely close to threatening them all with the pointy end of a very sharp metal instrument if they don’t tell him soon. The fact that they’re being secretive about it quite possibly unsettles Erik more than the fact that the unknown Telepath is still slipping into his mind now and then, despite Erik’s constant demands that they get the fuck out.
One night when Erik is in the library late, he feels when the telepath’s presence curls around the edge of his consciousness and Erik actually lets his head fall into his hand with frustration. ‘You really can’t take a hint, you know’, he snarls, and in some deep, forgotten part of his mind, he realises it’s rather similar to someone he used to know. But who, Erik can’t recall, and he hears Raven’s words repeated to him You really have no clue?
Erik bites back a growl of frustration as focuses on his text book back again, eyes scanning to try and find where it was he was up to. After staring at the page blankly for a few minutes, the presence still weaving in and out of his consciousness almost playfully, Erik mentally sighs and shoots the presence a barbed thought of ‘If you’re going to insist on being there, you should at least tell me who the fuck you are’
There’s a sudden thump a few desks away, and Erik jerks his head around to glare at the moron who can’t even hold onto his books. As he stares, Erik realises that the stranger’s face is slightly panicked, his eyes staring down at the desk determinedly, tilting his head enough that his floppy, unkempt brown hair almost hides the fact that his eyes are darting about, two fingers resting up against his temple as he chews at his lower lip. A lower lip that Erik can’t help but notice is obscenely red. They’re red enough that Erik briefly wonders if the other man wears gloss or coloured balm or something, because surely that shade of red can’t be natural?
Then those eyes rise and meet Erik’s almost hesitantly, and Erik absolutely refuses to admit that he just drew a breath of surprise at exactly how blue those eyes are, refuses to acknowledge that they actually managed to draw such a reaction from him. A tongue darts out to wet those red lips, and Erik equally ignores the way that he watches that tongue, telling himself that he’s still glaring about the noise the other student had made.
Seconds pass in which the two men simply stare at one another, one trying to seem menacing and annoyed - though, really, he’s fascinated in a way he can’t explain - while the other’s lips tremble with unspoken words. And then another unseen student pushes their chair out with a noisy screech, and the moment is broken.
The floppy-haired man blurts, “I’m sorry,” before he snatches up his bag and hurriedly leaves the room, his hand lowering from his temple as he goes.
Erik isn’t entirely sure what compels him to do it, maybe he’s horrified about that horrendous sweater the other man is wearing, but he watches the other man’s retreating figure as it practically darts away. As the blue eyed man gets to the door, Erik can see him half turn his head to look over his shoulder, before he shakes his head as though telling himself not to do something.
When Erik looks back at the table the other man had just vacated, he can see that a Genetics textbook is sitting there. Normally, Erik couldn’t give a fuck if other students leave their books behind - it’s their own fault, he thinks. So, he can’t explain why this time he finds himself rising from his table and plucking the lost Genetics book up.
Thumbing through the book, he cringes slightly when he realises that blue-eyes is one of those people that highlight sections of his textbook. He comes to the back cover, and in the bottom corner on the inside, clearly printed he can read Property of Charles Xavier. Please return to room 404 if found, and Erik manages to stabilise himself with a firm hand on the desk before the assault begins.
My names Charles, by the way. Charles Xavier - I like everyone in class though Erik! They’re all nice and everyone has lovely minds … Oh, fine. If I absolutely must choose, I’d like you best - But that’s stupid Erik! I can’t play with you alone! The others will think I don’t like them - I hate it when you do that Erik! I hate it when I can’t read you! - That makes absolutely no sense. Now we’re both going to have a cold hand - I’m so happy that I met you Erik. We’ll always be friends, right?- Erik, you must come play with me in the summer, okay? Pinky promise! - Don’t you dare Erik! I’ll never speak to you again if you do! - Erik, you have to calm your mind. Erik! I’m so sorry Erik. I’m so, so sorry.
His textbooks and the Genetics book are completely forgotten as Erik takes off down the hall at a sprint, completely heedless of the way that the light fixtures twine together as he passes, running as fast as his legs can carry him, his eyes wide and searching. Of course - Of course there had been another Telepath he’d known, one who had absolutely refused to sop prying in his mind because he thought it was fascinating. How could he have forgotten?
Erik almost trips over someone as he comes skidding around the corner at the same time they take a step out, and it takes a brief moment of Erik looking back into wide, shocked blue eyes for him to realise that it’s Charles. And Erik is caught between wanting to punch his lights out for settling himself into his mind as though they hadn’t been separated for more than ten years, wants to beat him senseless for not coming forward and telling Erik it was him - The fact that he hadn’t remembered them hadn’t stoped Raven, Hank, or Azazel. He wants to yell and snarl profanities at him for being so stupid.
Instead, Erik just pulls Charles tight against him, the - still - smaller man’s arms automatically curling around Erik’s back just like they used to when they were kids. And Erik can feel that Charles is crying, can feel the dampness in his shirt, can feel a tickle at the back of his own eyes that he refuses to acknowledge.
It doesn’t stop him from growling, “You complete and utter fucking fool. I could kill you for so many things right now - and then bring you back to life and kill you all over again. How dare you - How dare you,” and Erik isn’t entirely sure what he’s mad about more - Charles’ silence, or his behaving as if he still has a right to Erik’s mind.
It doesn’t matter which really, because even now Erik can feel Charles’ consciousness reaching out to meet his, and it feels just like being welcomed home, and Charles is saying “I know, I know. But you didn’t remember me at all, and I just didn’t know what to do! I missed you so much, and you didn’t even remember and I’m sorry Erik. I’m sorry. I’m so so-”
Charles doesn’t manage to get through his third apology before Erik has jerked back out of Charles’ arms, and instead brings a fist down across his cheek. The fact that Charles can see the punch coming and simply closes his eyes, waiting, accepting it infuriates Erik and adds fuel to the fire and possibly makes him hit harder.
“The next time I tell you to get the fuck out of my mind, do it Charles! You don’t just get free access anymore.”
Erik refuses to allow himself to feel remorseful about the small amount of blood Charles spits out before he levels his gaze with Erik’s, his expression guarded.
“I’ll admit I deserved that. They all told me you’d be pissed off when you found out it was me. Let me make something perfectly clear though, Erik. I never, not once, went deep enough into your mind to see more than surface thoughts. It was only enough to actually feel your mind again. You can’t begin to understand how much I’ve missed you through these years. So, forgive me if I dared to crave that small amount of contact with you after all this time.”
“You could have just told me who you were,” Erik pointed out, and Charles flushed slightly at the words.
“You didn’t even remember me, how could I?”
With a heavy sigh, Erik felt the anger leave him and he was simply staring at Charles, trying to merge the boy in his memories, with the man that standing before him, his eyes an icy glare.
And then the glare gave way to an apologetic expression. Uncertainly, Charles raised a hand and placed it on Erik’s shoulder. ‘I am sorry I didn’t tell you sooner’, the words came to him, and Erik could feel the sincerity in Charle’s mental voice, and it was ridiculous the way he actually felt ashamed of the way he’d lashed out in his anger.
Heaving an irritated sigh, Erik ran a hand through the back of his hair before he turned around and started making his way back to the library to get his things, not even sure what he was feeling at that moment in time.
As Charles fell into step beside him though, things felt more right than they had in a long time, and Erik glanced over at his childhood friend uncertainly - Where did they go from here? Where did they stand now? And then something occurred to Erik that made him snort in amusement, Charles looking up at him with an arched eyebrow
“You’re still a short arse, you know,” Erik told him, grinning as he realised Charles stood between his jaw and shoulders.
“Oh, shut up Erik,” Charles snapped, his lips quirking into a smile of its own accord at the familiarity of the remark, his eyes sweeping over the twisted metal of the lights with something akin to pride.
~X~
To part 3~
Word Count: 5 364
Pairing: Cherik
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Rating: M ...? I'm honestly bad at figuring out what rating things should be - Just look at the warnings.
Warnings: Love of the homosexual nature. Implications of sexual situations. Oh, and swearing.
Summary: Charles and Erik were friends when they were children - Until certain circumstances tore them apart. Many years later, when Erik moves to England so that he can study at Oxford University, he certainly doesn't expect to run into his childhood friend again.In fact, he doesn't expect any of the events that follow.
Notes: This is something that I wrote for
ile_o, who drew this amazingly cute fanart for me (Which can be found here), gushing about how much she wanted to see a fic where Charles and Erik meet as children - But with the age difference. And this is my response to that cos the image just wouldn't leave me alone. So, here it is darling, and I hope to the gods of Tuesday that you like it. >///<
Part One Here
~X~
The next several years of Erik’s life were, for lack of a better term, unremarkable. He was never adopted into a new family, and spent his years growing up in the Orphanage he’d been unceremoniously dumped at. He persevered with his education and majored in Electrical Theory - Something his teacher said he excelled at - As well as metal work, something he, admittedly, cheated in quite a lot considering his mutation. He enjoyed it all the same though, so he didn’t care if he got filthy looks from his peers when he made use of his powers.
At the age of Sixteen, Erik moved out of the orphanage and found a shabby, one bedroom apartment, and he started working part time at a questionable mechanic’s to simply support himself. It was around that time that Erik’s life took a decidedly darker turn.
There were a mere two other mutants at the high school Erik went to - Emma Frost, and Sebastian Shaw, and they were nothing like the Mutants that Erik remembered from back in New York. Erik might only have a vague impression of his time in New York now, buried under other memories and time as those days were, but the impression he had was of warmth and trying to co-habituate with the human population of the school. With Shaw and Frost, it was completely different. They ruled the school, and the human’s weren’t simply wary of them because they ‘didn’t understand’ - The Human’s were actually afraid of Frost and Shaw.
Erik had been hesitant to follow in their footsteps, he had a distinct impression that someone from his past with alarmingly blue eyes would surely be disappointed if he let himself walk that path, but Erik couldn’t for the life of him remember if that impression was of an actual person, or just a figment of his childhood.
In the end, he allowed himself to be swept up in it all - allowed himself to develop a cold exterior that no one could break through. Allowed himself to become a predator, someone who was viewed as dangerous. He became someone who was volatile, who went out and got into drunken fights of a weekend. He, in essence, became Shaw’s bodyguard - Not that Shaw needed one, he was dangerous in his own right, but Erik was given the role regardless.
And with time, Erik remembered less and less of the blue eyed boy from his childhood. His mind eventually stopped reminding him that ‘he’ would surely be disappointed if he could see him now - Erik stopped caring what this phantom from his past thought and allowed Shaw to make use of him, allowed him to help fine tune his powers to the point that Erik was quite possibly feared more than Shaw himself by the time he reached his Senior year.
Then, before long, it came time to apply for College’s and although Erik hadn’t given it any prior thought, considering Exams were in a week’s time, his Electrical Theory Teacher pulled him aside after one lesson.
“Erik, you could have a future in this field, you and I both know you’re a natural at it. Your course work has been brilliant.” He paused, and then continued on in a rush, “Erik, I want you to consider applying for Oxford University. They provide the best course in Electrical Theory, and I’m sure anything else that you could possibly want.”
“Oxford?” Erik repeated, sure he’d misunderstood the teacher. The balding man simply nodded. “That’s in England.”
“I know, I know. But … Well, consider it, won’t you? I’ve already recommended you for a scholarship, and the professors were rather impressed with your work, so I’m fairly sure it’s safe to say the option’s there if you want it. They’d pay for you to fly over, and you’d have an on-campus dorm. You’d even get an allowance as long as you can maintain a respectable level of work and-”
“I’ll do it,” Erik cut across the teacher’s rambling.
“Er- Well, there’s no need to decide right now. You can think it through and make sure it’s what you want…” The teacher silenced himself at Erik’s quelling glare.
“I said I would do it,” he repeated, silently thinking that it was a good opportunity to cut ties with Shaw and Frost. He’d run out of patience with them, and was tired of Shaw’s attempts at trying to control him. No longer was he the easily moulded, impressionable freshman.
Less than 24 hours after his Exams finished, Erik had packed his life into a single suitcase, thrown out whatever he couldn’t fit in that suitcase, and was sitting on a plane, making his way to England where a representative from Oxford University would meet him and escort him to the dorms.
How could he have known that what seemed like pure luck was in fact fate’s way of setting him back on track for what she had planned for him?
---
Even before he set foot on campus, Erik felt ... Strange. It was like leaving the house and suspecting you’d left the oven on. There was some tickling feeling in the back of his mind that reminded him of something, something he couldn’t put his finger on. And then, out of the blue, he had a memory - Or, he presumed it was a memory - of someone saying ‘Oh, you don’t remember. That’s anticlimactic,’ in a voice that was achingly familiar, and then the feeling was completely gone.
Erik paid it little mind though, he was slightly more concerned with finding what dorm he was going to be living in for the next three years, at least, and whether his room mate was going to be tolerable at least.
He came to a stop in front of the room number scribbled onto the sheet of paper that irritating escort had given him - He’d been a hummer, so Erik had told him to just give him the map and leave his sight, or else he’d be one testicle less. Suffice to say the escort had paled considerably, thrown he paper work at Erik and all but scarpered away - and regarded the door with trepidation.
Generally speaking, he did not get along with people well, and it was even worse if they were human. No matter how much he tried to stress it would be more beneficial for his future roommate that Erik be given his own room, the receptionist informed him that they were aware of his “special circumstances” and that a suitable arrangement was already in place. Erik was certain that his idea of a suitable arrangement, and the receptionist’s would be completely different.
Fixing his fiercest scowl on his face so that his roommate would know not to even bother, Erik opened the door - rolling his eyes to himself at how simple locks were to manoeuvre - and stopped abruptly as he realised his roommate was in fact a man with the appearance of a hell-demon, complete with the thrashing tail.
The sight of the red skin brought something to mind, something elusive and he knew, he knew that he knew this person - How many mutants did you meet with fire-red skin and a tail - But Erik simply couldn’t place it. It was like trying to chase down the fragments of a fading dream.
“Hmm. It would appear he was right then. Pity,” the red-mutant sighed, his golden gaze fixed on Erik as he stood there, hands stuffed into pockets as he wracked his brain for where he knew this mutant from. He didn’t meet him through Shaw, of that he was certain, but then … Before? Erik couldn’t recall. He’d made a point to forget the days with his mother.
And there was that feeling in the back of his mind again, a tickling like someone was sitting there with his consciousness, but the only Telepath that he’d known of was Emma, and she had a tendency to barge her way into Erik’s mind when she saw fit, not flutter about unobtrusively. There was no way her power could stretch over continents, was there?
Belatedly, Erik realised he was still standing in the doorway staring curiously at the other mutant, so he made a point to walk in with his head held high, make it clear that he was not to be intimidated. He didn’t care if this red-Mutant was older than he was, Erik was no push-over.
The Hell demon’s lips twitched once before he rolled his eyes, “You honestly haven’t changed,” he muttered, and Erik arched his eyebrow curiously. So it wasn’t his imagination then, this mutant did know him.
“Forgive me. My name is Azazel, and you can take whichever bunk you want - I’m hardly ever here enough to care.”
Erik’s eyes narrowed slightly at the name, a brief, hazy image of a teleporting mutant coming to mind. An image that was closely followed by a bell-like laughter he felt like he should remember.
“I know you,” Erik said slowly, cautiously, watching Azazel as he threw his bag up onto the lower bunk.
“Indeed, but it was a long time ago, I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. Him however -” and Erik watched as Azazel cut himself off abruptly, looking up at the roof as though he were deep in thought, and then he muttered, “Fool,” under his breath. Had Erik not spent years in close proximity with a telepath, he might have thought that was directed at him, but he was able to recognise when a comment was meant for someone else.
“There are more than just us two here, aren’t there?” Erik asked, though he knew the answer already, and was intrigued by the thought, intrigued by the idea of mutants not under Shaw’s control. Though, he was also slightly uneasy at the idea of another telepath. It had never been pleasant having Emma know his every thought, whim and secret.
Azazel sighed heavily before saying, “Yes, and I’m sure you’ll meet them before long. Forgive me, Lensherr, but I have other business to attend to. Make yourself at home - I wasn’t joking when I said that I’m hardly ever here,” and with one last nod at Erik, the demon dissipated into a sulphuric wisp, and the smell brought back memories of dodgeball and yelling about not cheating by teleporting all over the place.
Erik waited until the smell of Sulphur dissipated completely before pinching his nose between his thumb and finger. Talk about a blast from the past. As he began unpacking, Erik realised he probably should have asked what Azazel was doing in England anyway. Besides the obvious that is.
Until he remembered that he didn’t really care what Azazel was doing in England - He hadn’t even remembered he knew him until ten seconds ago. And so, with a shrug Erik pulled out his schedule and started memorising where his classes were and how to get there, if only so he could avoid having to ask someone.
---
Erik settled into life at Oxford easily enough. It was strange to be staying on campus at first, but he decided that it was more convenient this way. He didn’t have to borrow books from the library all the time, and he could stay in the Campus’ library as late as he wanted, which actually made him happier than he would ever admit aloud.
One of his favourite times quickly became that point in the night when there were only a handful of students left in the extensive library and he could roam through the shelves without needing to be bothered about others loitering at his shoulders, shifting as if trying to peer around and see all books available, or which one he had in hand. It was annoying, and Erik often wanted nothing more than to pick them up by the zips in their jackets, or jeans or their watches and unceremoniously toss them to the other side of the Library. He came very close to doing so on several occasions, but as soon as Erik turned his glare on those foolish enough to bother him, they seemed to realise who they were annoying and they hurriedly found somewhere else to look.
Azazel, true to his word, was hardly ever in their shared room, and so Erik had practically taken it over with several stacks of Electronic books, or books about magnetic theory, not to mention the various amounts of metal that was scattered about the room. Erik simply felt more secure having metal on hand - One thing spending time with Shaw had taught him was to be cautious, no matter the environment you’re in, which is precisely why Erik always had at least one coin in his pocket as he was walking around. Even the bathroom had several screws and coins lying on the basin.
The only thing that bothered him about life at Oxford was the feeling that he was not the only one in his head. It wasn’t often that Erik would feel that fluttering presence at the back of his mind, but it frustrated him whenever he did. Although it was a light presence, and not intrusive in the slightest, it still annoyed Erik that a telepath would just invite themselves into his mind as if they knew him and had a right to be there, and it was highly distracting to realise you weren’t alone in your mind, especially when you were trying to memorise complicated equations and formulas. More than once Erik had none too gently told whoever it was to kindly fuck off, and he was never sure whether he should be amused, or offended that the presence would swell with surprise each and every time they were caught, before flaring indignantly and finally fading away, resentment evident in the lingering traces of them.
More annoying than the telepath inviting themselves into Erik’s mind though, was the bewildering warmth and familiarity that would initially spread through him at the feel of their presence. It frustrated him because a stranger was trying to sneak into his mind, and so his mind had no business relaxing at the feeling of their consciousness’ meeting, as if he were greeting a friend after a long trip. It was just startling that his consciousness would so readily accept another’s presence considering how cautious he was in daily life.
Another thing that Azazel had been correct about, was the fact that Erik would surely meet the other mutants that were there at Oxford. The first was possibly the one that startled him most, however.
Erik had been quite contentedly reading through Dracula, when he suddenly felt that he wasn’t alone - Not in the same way he’d been dealing with for weeks now, but in the physical sense. Reaching with his powers for the coin in his pocket, Erik looked up with a glare on his face. The glare faltered slightly and turned to a frown of bewilderment, however, as he was met by his own face staring at him, his lips pulled into a bemused smile that simply didn’t suit him.
“I always thought we’d meet again,” Erik’s own voice told him, and he arched an eyebrow sceptically at the uncanny impostor.
“Did you now?” he asked, pulling the coin out of his pocket with barely discernable movements of his fingers.
And then his-doppelganger’s eyes shimmered and turned into memorable reptilian yellow, and Erik fought down the want to groan. Sitting before him was one mutant he had never been able to forget, her power simply too fascinating.
“Raven,” he acknowledged, and the obscene way his lips stretched into a pleased smile didn’t suit his face at all, Erik decided, before his faux-self blurred slightly and a woman with shoulder length blonde hair and light blue eyes looked at him. Erik simply frowned at her, “That is not the real Raven,” he stated, disdain barely concealed in his tone. Was she ashamed of her true form? How ridiculous. They were the future, and she was hiding behind a mask?
The woman before him met his gaze balefully before allowing herself to shift into her azure self. It didn’t escape Erik’s attention that she flinched at the gasps of horror as she did so, and it annoyed him that she did so, because it was his firm opinion that she looked better in her natural form. She should be proud of the fact that she was different, proud of who she was.
“You’re beautiful,” Erik commented, taking care to keep any possible inflection out of his tone, “You shouldn’t be ashamed of who you are,” and he was rewarded with a winning smile for his words.
“You’ve become the charmer, Lensherr,” Raven said, cocking her head to the side as she looked over at him, “Is that how you greet all the women you meet? Or just those from your past?”
Erik simply snorted derisively, fixed his gaze back on his book, and retorted, “Don’t misunderstand, it was an objective observation.”
To his surprise, Raven actually laughed at his words, and Erik felt distinctly uncomfortable for a moment. He wasn’t used to people laughing at him, they normally avoided him completely. Was it because she knew him from before his time with Shaw that Raven was unaffected by his rough demeanour? Erik frowned slightly at the thought before deciding that it didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if he was going to start to gush about old times or let the shapeshifter behind his defences just because she wasn’t scared of him.
Unexpectedly, the silence that stretched on between Raven and himself was almost … Companionable. She seemed content to watch the people as they went by, trying on their hair styles or eye colour once they were out of sight, while Erik pretended to read his book. As Erik’s eyes skated unseeingly over the words of the novel though, he couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. There was a vital person, someone related to Raven, that was missing. Seeing her brought back carefully buried memories of blue eyes and warm laughter, of someone he was sure had been important. Erik frowned as he thought about it, unable to recall anything outside of ‘startling blue eyes’.
He put it out of his mind, however, as Raven spoke to him, asking what it was that brought him to England. For a moment, Erik missed the times when people knew not to talk to him, it usually saved him the irritation that came with small talk.
Tickling at the edge of his consciousness, he could feel the unnamed telepath’s amusement, and Erik sent the presence a half-hearted Be amused elsewhere, an almost smile playing with the edges of his mouth.
Meeting up with Hank had been decidedly less startling. Erik hadn’t known it, but Hank was actually in his Electrical Theory lecture class, since it was an ‘open’ class. The other mutant hadn’t even made his presence known to Erik until a few days after meeting Raven.
Erik had been distinctly irritated when somebody dared stand in his way of the chalkboard one afternoon, and that feeling simply intensified when he realised it was some timid person whose mouth was opening and closing, apparently unable to get the words out.
He was about two seconds away from snarling ‘Spit it out, or fuck off’ before the uncertain male said in an almost quavering voice, “Erik Lensherr, right?” and his eye twitched, actually twitched at the question.
The timid classmate took a step back and bit on his lips before saying a rush, “I’m sorry, it’s just that I went to school with you and Raven, and she said she’d spoken to you so I’d thought-”
“Fuck. Just, shut up,” Erik ground out, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath, and the other man’s mouth had closed with an audible snap, “Who are you?”
“Hank. Hank McCoy,” Erik noticed the way he was shifting from foot to foot and was decidedly frustrated by it, the name also meant absolutely nothing to him.
“Don’t remember you,” he said, a touch dismissively, hoping that would be enough for Hank to take the hint and leave him alone. Instead, Hank smiled ruefully and started to play with the strap of his bag.
“I didn’t think you would, Azazel said you didn’t remember him either,” and Erik couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow with interest at that.
“You’re one of us then?” he asked, taking Hank in with new eyes. He still found the shifting and timidness irritating - As he had thought with Raven, if Hank was a mutant, he should be prouder - but if Hank was a mutant … Well, Erik was at least slightly less inclined to throw him to the other side of the room to move him out of the way.
So, with self control the like of which Erik wasn’t sure he had, he simply sighed, and said through clenched teeth, “Wonderful as our reunion might be, can you move Hank? I’m in the middle of copying the notes down.”
Hank, as Erik expected, squeaked with surprise, before hurriedly sitting down in the seat closest to him, apparently intent on catching up on old times or something equally asinine. Erik had to take a few calming breaths before he could get back to his notes - The seat Hank was sitting on would have crumpled beneath him otherwise, metal legs and all.
---
Almost two months in to the University term, Erik still has no idea who the Telepath is. He’s tried asking the other mutants, but Hank pointedly changes the subject when Erik brings it up with him, and Azazel simply shrugs and says “You’ll find out eventually.” As for Raven, she simply grins mischievously and asks “You really have no clue?” as though he’s being incredibly dense. As for Erik … He is getting extremely close to threatening them all with the pointy end of a very sharp metal instrument if they don’t tell him soon. The fact that they’re being secretive about it quite possibly unsettles Erik more than the fact that the unknown Telepath is still slipping into his mind now and then, despite Erik’s constant demands that they get the fuck out.
One night when Erik is in the library late, he feels when the telepath’s presence curls around the edge of his consciousness and Erik actually lets his head fall into his hand with frustration. ‘You really can’t take a hint, you know’, he snarls, and in some deep, forgotten part of his mind, he realises it’s rather similar to someone he used to know. But who, Erik can’t recall, and he hears Raven’s words repeated to him You really have no clue?
Erik bites back a growl of frustration as focuses on his text book back again, eyes scanning to try and find where it was he was up to. After staring at the page blankly for a few minutes, the presence still weaving in and out of his consciousness almost playfully, Erik mentally sighs and shoots the presence a barbed thought of ‘If you’re going to insist on being there, you should at least tell me who the fuck you are’
There’s a sudden thump a few desks away, and Erik jerks his head around to glare at the moron who can’t even hold onto his books. As he stares, Erik realises that the stranger’s face is slightly panicked, his eyes staring down at the desk determinedly, tilting his head enough that his floppy, unkempt brown hair almost hides the fact that his eyes are darting about, two fingers resting up against his temple as he chews at his lower lip. A lower lip that Erik can’t help but notice is obscenely red. They’re red enough that Erik briefly wonders if the other man wears gloss or coloured balm or something, because surely that shade of red can’t be natural?
Then those eyes rise and meet Erik’s almost hesitantly, and Erik absolutely refuses to admit that he just drew a breath of surprise at exactly how blue those eyes are, refuses to acknowledge that they actually managed to draw such a reaction from him. A tongue darts out to wet those red lips, and Erik equally ignores the way that he watches that tongue, telling himself that he’s still glaring about the noise the other student had made.
Seconds pass in which the two men simply stare at one another, one trying to seem menacing and annoyed - though, really, he’s fascinated in a way he can’t explain - while the other’s lips tremble with unspoken words. And then another unseen student pushes their chair out with a noisy screech, and the moment is broken.
The floppy-haired man blurts, “I’m sorry,” before he snatches up his bag and hurriedly leaves the room, his hand lowering from his temple as he goes.
Erik isn’t entirely sure what compels him to do it, maybe he’s horrified about that horrendous sweater the other man is wearing, but he watches the other man’s retreating figure as it practically darts away. As the blue eyed man gets to the door, Erik can see him half turn his head to look over his shoulder, before he shakes his head as though telling himself not to do something.
When Erik looks back at the table the other man had just vacated, he can see that a Genetics textbook is sitting there. Normally, Erik couldn’t give a fuck if other students leave their books behind - it’s their own fault, he thinks. So, he can’t explain why this time he finds himself rising from his table and plucking the lost Genetics book up.
Thumbing through the book, he cringes slightly when he realises that blue-eyes is one of those people that highlight sections of his textbook. He comes to the back cover, and in the bottom corner on the inside, clearly printed he can read Property of Charles Xavier. Please return to room 404 if found, and Erik manages to stabilise himself with a firm hand on the desk before the assault begins.
My names Charles, by the way. Charles Xavier - I like everyone in class though Erik! They’re all nice and everyone has lovely minds … Oh, fine. If I absolutely must choose, I’d like you best - But that’s stupid Erik! I can’t play with you alone! The others will think I don’t like them - I hate it when you do that Erik! I hate it when I can’t read you! - That makes absolutely no sense. Now we’re both going to have a cold hand - I’m so happy that I met you Erik. We’ll always be friends, right?- Erik, you must come play with me in the summer, okay? Pinky promise! - Don’t you dare Erik! I’ll never speak to you again if you do! - Erik, you have to calm your mind. Erik! I’m so sorry Erik. I’m so, so sorry.
His textbooks and the Genetics book are completely forgotten as Erik takes off down the hall at a sprint, completely heedless of the way that the light fixtures twine together as he passes, running as fast as his legs can carry him, his eyes wide and searching. Of course - Of course there had been another Telepath he’d known, one who had absolutely refused to sop prying in his mind because he thought it was fascinating. How could he have forgotten?
Erik almost trips over someone as he comes skidding around the corner at the same time they take a step out, and it takes a brief moment of Erik looking back into wide, shocked blue eyes for him to realise that it’s Charles. And Erik is caught between wanting to punch his lights out for settling himself into his mind as though they hadn’t been separated for more than ten years, wants to beat him senseless for not coming forward and telling Erik it was him - The fact that he hadn’t remembered them hadn’t stoped Raven, Hank, or Azazel. He wants to yell and snarl profanities at him for being so stupid.
Instead, Erik just pulls Charles tight against him, the - still - smaller man’s arms automatically curling around Erik’s back just like they used to when they were kids. And Erik can feel that Charles is crying, can feel the dampness in his shirt, can feel a tickle at the back of his own eyes that he refuses to acknowledge.
It doesn’t stop him from growling, “You complete and utter fucking fool. I could kill you for so many things right now - and then bring you back to life and kill you all over again. How dare you - How dare you,” and Erik isn’t entirely sure what he’s mad about more - Charles’ silence, or his behaving as if he still has a right to Erik’s mind.
It doesn’t matter which really, because even now Erik can feel Charles’ consciousness reaching out to meet his, and it feels just like being welcomed home, and Charles is saying “I know, I know. But you didn’t remember me at all, and I just didn’t know what to do! I missed you so much, and you didn’t even remember and I’m sorry Erik. I’m sorry. I’m so so-”
Charles doesn’t manage to get through his third apology before Erik has jerked back out of Charles’ arms, and instead brings a fist down across his cheek. The fact that Charles can see the punch coming and simply closes his eyes, waiting, accepting it infuriates Erik and adds fuel to the fire and possibly makes him hit harder.
“The next time I tell you to get the fuck out of my mind, do it Charles! You don’t just get free access anymore.”
Erik refuses to allow himself to feel remorseful about the small amount of blood Charles spits out before he levels his gaze with Erik’s, his expression guarded.
“I’ll admit I deserved that. They all told me you’d be pissed off when you found out it was me. Let me make something perfectly clear though, Erik. I never, not once, went deep enough into your mind to see more than surface thoughts. It was only enough to actually feel your mind again. You can’t begin to understand how much I’ve missed you through these years. So, forgive me if I dared to crave that small amount of contact with you after all this time.”
“You could have just told me who you were,” Erik pointed out, and Charles flushed slightly at the words.
“You didn’t even remember me, how could I?”
With a heavy sigh, Erik felt the anger leave him and he was simply staring at Charles, trying to merge the boy in his memories, with the man that standing before him, his eyes an icy glare.
And then the glare gave way to an apologetic expression. Uncertainly, Charles raised a hand and placed it on Erik’s shoulder. ‘I am sorry I didn’t tell you sooner’, the words came to him, and Erik could feel the sincerity in Charle’s mental voice, and it was ridiculous the way he actually felt ashamed of the way he’d lashed out in his anger.
Heaving an irritated sigh, Erik ran a hand through the back of his hair before he turned around and started making his way back to the library to get his things, not even sure what he was feeling at that moment in time.
As Charles fell into step beside him though, things felt more right than they had in a long time, and Erik glanced over at his childhood friend uncertainly - Where did they go from here? Where did they stand now? And then something occurred to Erik that made him snort in amusement, Charles looking up at him with an arched eyebrow
“You’re still a short arse, you know,” Erik told him, grinning as he realised Charles stood between his jaw and shoulders.
“Oh, shut up Erik,” Charles snapped, his lips quirking into a smile of its own accord at the familiarity of the remark, his eyes sweeping over the twisted metal of the lights with something akin to pride.
~X~
To part 3~