When the Helmet is Removed
When the Helmet is Removed
Fandom: X-Men (First Class)
Pairings and characters: Charles/Erik, Ororo
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 400
Prompt: From the kinkmeme Here for shared dreaming
Summary: Years after the Cuba, the pair have fallen into their roles as each other's nemesis. Except for when the helmet is removed and they dream together.
They must be in similar timezones now; Charles could almost feel the metal helmet being lifted from the other man's head as the mantelpiece clock in Charles' study strikes one in the morning.
The students had already retired, except for Ororo, who has curled up by the largest window in the dormitories and was softly singing to herself. Charles touched her mind gently.
You should return to bed, little one.
The young girl leaped from the window seat and was under the covers without even touching the floor. She buried her face in her quilt and tried to ignore her rapidly beating heart.
‘’night, Professor.’ She whispered.
Charles chuckled a little. Good night, Ororo.
Ororo’s mind settled as she waited for sleep, and thousands of miles away, another mind, more familiar than any other, was slipping into unconsciousness. Erik’s exhaustion was almost a physical presence, weighing heavy in the back of Charles’ mind.
Charles finished reading Alex’s essay and placed two fingers at his temple, more from an attempt stave off the rapidly approaching headache than to reach out with his powers. He wheeled himself back from his desk, thanking his foresight that made him change into his pyjamas earlier in the evening.
His bed had been adjusted to the height of his wheelchair, making it easier for him to get in and out, and was always made with the sheets turned down. He gripped the arms of his chair and lifted off the seat, swivelling the bottom half of his body around to rest on the edge of the bed. It was a struggle, every night, every morning.
Laying down took more shuffling and shifting, Charles had to grip and manually move his useless legs to slide under the covers. It wasn’t until he lay down with his head resting on the pillow that he remembered his slippers were still on his feet.
He cursed himself and his loss of feeling, but was too exhausted to do anything about it. Charles let his eyes slide closed and his mind reached out almost instinctively, searching for that point hundreds of miles away. A heavily sleeping mind surrounded by cold metal.
Charles slips into Erik’s mind, his dreams lapping like waves in his subconscious.
Charles always finds his way back here, back to the brightest spot.
Because in Erik’s dreams, he walks.
Fandom: X-Men (First Class)
Pairings and characters: Charles/Erik, Ororo
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 400
Prompt: From the kinkmeme Here for shared dreaming
Summary: Years after the Cuba, the pair have fallen into their roles as each other's nemesis. Except for when the helmet is removed and they dream together.
They must be in similar timezones now; Charles could almost feel the metal helmet being lifted from the other man's head as the mantelpiece clock in Charles' study strikes one in the morning.
The students had already retired, except for Ororo, who has curled up by the largest window in the dormitories and was softly singing to herself. Charles touched her mind gently.
You should return to bed, little one.
The young girl leaped from the window seat and was under the covers without even touching the floor. She buried her face in her quilt and tried to ignore her rapidly beating heart.
‘’night, Professor.’ She whispered.
Charles chuckled a little. Good night, Ororo.
Ororo’s mind settled as she waited for sleep, and thousands of miles away, another mind, more familiar than any other, was slipping into unconsciousness. Erik’s exhaustion was almost a physical presence, weighing heavy in the back of Charles’ mind.
Charles finished reading Alex’s essay and placed two fingers at his temple, more from an attempt stave off the rapidly approaching headache than to reach out with his powers. He wheeled himself back from his desk, thanking his foresight that made him change into his pyjamas earlier in the evening.
His bed had been adjusted to the height of his wheelchair, making it easier for him to get in and out, and was always made with the sheets turned down. He gripped the arms of his chair and lifted off the seat, swivelling the bottom half of his body around to rest on the edge of the bed. It was a struggle, every night, every morning.
Laying down took more shuffling and shifting, Charles had to grip and manually move his useless legs to slide under the covers. It wasn’t until he lay down with his head resting on the pillow that he remembered his slippers were still on his feet.
He cursed himself and his loss of feeling, but was too exhausted to do anything about it. Charles let his eyes slide closed and his mind reached out almost instinctively, searching for that point hundreds of miles away. A heavily sleeping mind surrounded by cold metal.
Charles slips into Erik’s mind, his dreams lapping like waves in his subconscious.
Charles always finds his way back here, back to the brightest spot.
Because in Erik’s dreams, he walks.