[fic] xm: fc - the days are short and the years are long - pg13 - charles/erik, tony, emma
Title: The Days are Short and the Years are Long
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Characters: Charles/Erik, Emma Frost, Tony Stark (references to past Charles/Tony, Charles/randoms)
Rating: PG13 for lots of references to underage drinking and debauchery
Length: ~6300
Summary: Emma invites Charles and Erik out for a drink that turns into a violently careening high speed chase down memory lane. (Also, even Tony Stark's clockblocking is innovative.)
Note: Part of Daycare Verse, an AU wherein Charles runs a mutant daycare and Erik is his long-suffering engineer boyfriend. Mostly stands alone, but references two other daycare stories. Thanks to brilligspoons for making sure I got Tony right. The title is cribbed from a quote attributed to Nikita Ivanovich Panin. There's a reference to my favorite Text From Xavier Academy.
It's Saturday morning. Quite a nice Saturday morning, actually, in Erik's opinion. Charles was up early enough that Erik woke to eggs and bacon frying on the stove and coffee brewing on the counter. They have nothing planned for the day, and days with no agenda are the best kind, as far as Erik's concerned.
There's breakfast and then a morning and afternoon of reading and terrible movies on basic cable. Erik's going to suggest going out for something to eat, when Charles phone rings.
"Could you get that?" Charles asks, not even lifting his head up from Erik's chest. Erik rolls his eyes and paws ineffectually at the end table, using his powers to nudge the phone a few inches closer until he can lift it. He glances at the display and groans.
"I shouldn't give this to you," he says, but then there's Charles in his mind.
"Emma!" he says, delighted, and raises his head enough to snatch the phone. He pushes himself up and, in the process, elbows Erik in the solar plexus as he cheerfully answers the call with, "Emma! Darling! I'm so happy you called!"
Erik grumbles and sits up himself, leaning against Charles' back.
"Oh, that's wonderful," Charles says, leaning back against Erik. "No, no, I'd love to! And Erik--" He laughs and Erik's rather sure it's at his expense. "Well, he'll tolerate it," Charles says, tipping his head back onto Erik's shoulder. He smiles at Erik encouragingly. "Mm, no, because he loves me very much." He turns his head and presses his lips against the side of Erik's throat. "No, I know where it is. We'll see you at eight or so? Brilliant. See you soon, darling."
He hangs up, grinning.
"We're going out for drinks with Emma tonight," he tells Erik, softening the inevitable with a quick kiss. "I know she doesn't thrill you, but she was my best friend when I was a boy and I'd like her back in my life. I promise I will do my best to keep it from being too excruciating."
And there were so few good things about Charles' life back then that Erik can't help but allow it.
"Fine," he grumbles. "But we're not staying out long."
"We'll be brief," Charles assures him with another kiss. "Thank you."
***
The bar Emma wants to meet them at is classier than the sort of places that Charles and Erik regular. Everything is sleek glass and chrome and even the tipsy people chatting at the bar are relatively quiet and civil. They find Emma at a secluded round table in the back corner. She raises a single, well manicured hand, and Charles unlaces his fingers from Erik's leaning down to embrace her tightly.
"Oh, Emma," he says.
"Charles, darling," she says. Her voice has the detached, cool cadence Erik's used to from working three obscenely long projects with her over the years, but he sees how tightly she clutches Charles. "I'm so happy to see you." They break apart and Emma glances at Erik over Charles' shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "Lehnsherr. Nice to see you as well."
Erik grunts in response and takes the chair across from Emma, allowing Charles to sit next to her.
"Thanks for calling us," Charles says. "It was so good to see you at the picnic, Emma, and I was--well. I'm glad you're--I thought seeing you again might go differently."
"Charles, you and Tony were the only people worth knowing for the first nineteen years of my life," Emma says. She reaches across the table to pat his hand. "It's not something I'd forget lightly, sugar."
Something in Charles relaxes slightly. Erik has his arm across the back of Charles' chair and he can feel the minute shift of his muscles.
Everything all right? he asks. He's careful to project it towards the lingering warmth at the edge of his mind, the presence that's always hovering there whenever he and Charles are together. He doesn't think that would stop Frost if she wanted to march into his mind and snatch it anyway, but it's better than tossing it out in the open where she could see it without even trying.
Fine, Charles thinks back. It's just been a while.
Let me know if you want to leave. And maybe that one is a little louder than Erik intended, because Emma glances at him and raises her eyebrows. Erik stares back, coolly.
I'm fine, Charles assures him, and he looks fine, he sounds fine, so Erik leans back and shifts his thoughts to conductor materials and how much they can talk the firm into shelling out in order to get the job done right.
"So what are you up to now, Emma?" Charles asks, and Erik tunes out completely, relying on Charles to tap him back into the conversation if he begins to appear rude. Or. Well. Ruder than normal.
Perhaps he should have at least kept one ear on the conversation, though, because it isn't until it's been stopped for several seconds that Erik notices the silence. He glances at Charles, but both he and Emma are staring at the bar where--oh.
Where Tony fucking Stark is waving and approaching the table.
Several things become so clear that Erik feels like an idiot for not connecting the dots sooner. In the two weeks since learning Emma and Charles grew up together, Charles has shared numerous stories about their third musketeer, a boy named Tony who was a genius, seemed to like drinking and partying to excess, graduated early with Charles and went to MIT, and came from a good enough family to mingle with the Xaviers and the Frosts. Of course it was Tony Stark. Tony Stark, heir to the greatest technology company in the world. Tony Stark, who has enough money to hire the best engineers in the business but still prefers to go over every design himself. Tony Stark, who, for all he's in the tabloids, for all he's only twenty-five years old, is smarter, faster, and more innovative than anyone else in their field.
If Erik is feeling a little lightheaded, it's only because he had a rather small dinner and jumped right into drinking a beer. It's certainly not because he's wanted to work for Stark Industries since he entered the engineering program at UPenn.
"I heard Emma was in town," Stark says as he approaches their table. "I thought I'd drop in and say hi." He's all smiles as he leans over and kisses Emma's cheek. Charles looks nervous, but also like it's his birthday and he hesitates for a moment. Erik may be slightly star-struck, but he's aware enough to notice that, and if Stark's about to do something to upset Charles, he'll have no problem flooring him.
Charles blinks and smiles slightly.
No need for that, my dear, he thinks, and gets to his feet.
Erik spares a look for Emma, who is staring at him curiously. He glares at her, but she only smiles and shakes her head.
"Tony," Charles says cautiously.
Stark raises his eyebrows and holds his arms out. "Charles. Seriously. I know it's been a while, but I think you're usually a little happier to see me?"
That's the tipping point, apparently, because Charles' smile becomes huge and genuine and he all but throws himself into Stark's arms, laughing.
"Tony," he says again. "God, I've missed you!"
"I missed you too, Xavier," Stark says. He pulls back and Erik doesn't even register the dip of his head until Charles puts a hand in front of his mouth. Then he just blinks in shock. Tony Stark just tried to kiss his boyfriend.
He should probably be more angry than turned on. He's working on it, but it's all very confusing.
"Sorry, Tony," Charles says. "I'm off the market."
"I know that," Tony insists, pulling Charles' hand away from his mouth. "Emma told me. I was just going to kiss your cheek. Jesus, Xavier, not everyone wants to jump into your pants."
"I think I have compelling evidence that proves otherwise," Charles says, but he allows Tony to kiss his cheek.
"Plus," Tony continues as if he didn't hear Charles. "There's always the chance that 'boyfriend' doesn't mean 'off the market.' I remember Emma's sweet sixteen, you know."
"That was entirely different!" Charles says. "Thomas wasn't really my boyfriend and he was rubbish at kissing. We had an arrangement."
"And you don't have an arrangement now?" Tony ask innocently. Which is Erik's cue to wrench himself from the sudden horrifying realization that his boyfriend used to fuck Tony Stark and get to his feet.
"No," he says. "We don't have an arrangement. So it would be best for you to take a step back before I'm forced to stake my claim or break your fingers." He says it with the smile that inspires Jean to send home drawings of him as a shark. It's good that he can mange that, because inside his head he's maybe lamenting that his first words to one of his idols are a threat of bodily harm.
"Oh, you're... adorable," Charles says, grinning, and extricates himself from Tony's grasp to all but jump on Erik. "Really, you are."
"I'm no such thing," Erik says, glaring, because, adorable? Really? 'Adorable' is a word people use to describe Charles, not him.
You never mentioned that you have a thing for Tony Stark! Charles thinks.
You never mentioned that you knew Tony Stark, Erik thinks back, darkly.
"Erik's an engineer," Emma says to Tony. Both Charles and Erik divert their attention back to Tony and Emma. "Charles might just have a type."
"Is that so?" Tony asks, raising his eyebrows and dropping into the closest chair, the one Charles had been sitting in.
"Oh, please," Charles says. "It doesn't say anything about me other than I like spending time with smart people. Erik is brilliant."
Tony's looking at him appraisingly, and Erik mutters, "Well. Not MIT-at-sixteen brilliant, but I get by."
"Don't listen to him," Charles says. "He's acting strangely modest. Usually he enjoys being the smartest person in the room."
"See?" Emma says. "A type."
"Hush," Charles says. "Besides, Tony was never my boyfriend. He was just a very attractive friend whom I sometimes made out with."
"Sometimes?" Emma says, and Charles glares at her and then turns a beatific smile up at Erik.
"Sit, darling," he says, and Erik complies, moving back one seat so that Charles can sit in the chair he had previously been occupying. "Anyway, as I was saying, Tony, this is my boyfriend, Erik Lehnsherr. Erik, this is Tony Stark."
"Pleasure to meet you," Erik says, reaching across the table to shake Tony's hand and trying not to seem overexcited or starstruck. "Sorry about threatening to break your fingers."
"Hey, no problem," Tony says easily. "It's actually fairly gratifying to see after some of the assholes Charles has dated."
"Briefly," Charles stresses. He looks slightly embarrassed when he glances at Erik. "I never hung around those boys for long. Besides, sometimes when you're young and fully aware of what you're getting into, it's okay to use someone else for sex. Or use them to have sex with their roommate. Or to make someone else jealous."
Erik's jaw doesn't drop, but it's a very near thing. He has a particular picture of Charles in his mind. The picture involves sweater vests and macaroni necklaces and a swarm of mutant brats and prattling on about education and, yes, the occasional night of heavy drinking, but nothing too deviant. Not that casual sex or using other people for sex is deviant, necessarily, but it's just not something he would ever associate with Charles.
"Um," he says.
"I'm embarrassingly in love with you," Charles assures him quickly. "You know that. I didn't mean--"
"I know," Erik says. Because he does. This revelation doesn't change anything about his perception of what Charles feels for him. It does, however, change his perception of what Charles' life was like before they met. He's trying to line up his picture of Charles with this new evidence and... it shouldn't be hot. Probably he's a bad person for thinking about Charles in college, eighteen and reveling in the freedom of not being under his parents' thumb, sleeping his way through the dorms--
Please save that for when we get home, Charles' voice rings out in his mind, torn between amusement and sheepishness.
Sorry, Erik thinks. He casually drops his arm down around Charles' shoulders and leans back, trying hard to project an aura of 'tell me more' without actually projecting.
"That's our Charles," Emma says fondly. "He never had a problem he couldn't slut his way out of. The Princeton rowers. Adam Edison. The bouncer at that bar in Poughkeepsie. The waiter in Paris. Any time you had a fight with Tony."
"Tony and I never slept together," Charles says firmly, but then he frowns. "Um, I think. Honestly, much of the week surrounding Tony's seventeenth birthday is somewhat blurry. I remember very little aside from throwing up in Emma's hat at one point."
"That was me," Tony says.
"It was both of you on two separate nights," Emma informs them, rolling her eyes. "Tony also still owes me a pair of shoes."
"He's thrown up on your shoes tons of times!" Tony protests. "Probably at least once that week."
"You didn't throw up on them," Emma says. "You wore them around Harvard Square to prove you could and broke the heels and stretched them to high heaven."
"Oh," Tony says. There's a pause. "Did I look good, at least?"
"You have fantastic legs," Emma says. "It's a tragedy they're wasted on a man."
"It was a weekend to remember," Charles says. "Well, more like a week. And also, I don't remember it."
"We got kicked out of this bar," Tony says, leaning forward and speaking directly to Erik and, really, any second now he's going to get over the fact that he's having a conversation with Tony Stark and wasting it on childhood memories and not the latest technological developments coming out of Stark Industries.
My childhood, thanks, Charles reminds him. He leans forward and presses an absent kiss to Charles' temple while motioning for Tony to continue.
"And I don't mean 'escorted out to the street,' I mean they had took a polaroid of the three of us and taped it to the wall and wouldn't let me back in the entire time I lived in Cambridge," Tony says. "Even Emma was blacklisted, which may have been a first for her. Emma can talk her way out of anything."
"And mentally nudge her way out of anything," Charles adds, not quite under his breath.
"It was all thanks to those cretins," Emma insists. She gestures at Tony and Charles, who are grinning conspiratorially. "So we're out on the street in Harvard Square and Tony--"
"I honestly didn't think that cop would take me seriously!" he interjects.
"We're lucky we weren't all arrested for public drunkenness," Emma says. "We were all underage, keep in mind. But we were just ordered not to step foot in Harvard Square for twenty-four hours. Which, as it turned out, was just enough time for Charles and Tony to get over their hangovers, get drunk on the shitty tequila we stole from one of Tony's suitemates, and then get over their hangovers again."
"And design a more efficient freezer!" Tony says. "Don't forget that part!"
"I'd hardly call it a freezer," Charles says. "It was more a... dry ice gun."
"I'm still amazed the two of you were able to build it after the amount of cheap tequila you had," Emma says.
"We're made of sterner stuff," Tony says, smacking his chest.
"That was only the first day, too," Charles says to Erik. "We were there a week. By the end of it, I was afraid we'd be banned from the Commonwealth of Massachusetts all together."
"My family basically owns half of Massachusetts," Emma says blandly. "It never would have stuck, honey."
"Fascinating," Erik says dryly. "I'm learning all sorts of things about you today." Charles blushes, but he's loose and happy and leans up for a kiss which Erik is happy to provide. The light anxiety from earlier is almost completely absent, and Erik finally feels like he can relax.
"No need to be anxious on my behalf," Charles murmurs as he pulls back from the kiss.
"I like to be on my guard," Erik says.
"Over-protective," Charles scoffs.
"That's not always a bad thing," Erik says.
I haven't spoken to either of them in so long, I was afraid they might think poorly of me, Charles thinks, leaning against Erik's shoulder as Tony starts another improbable story about a trip to visit Emma at Princeton and the fight that Tony nearly got into with half the rowing crew. Not for the first time, Erik wonders what Charles did to break contact with people he was obviously so close with. He hadn't explained, not really, but by all accounts he hasn't spoken to either of them since his stepfather died over six years ago.
"All this talk is making me thirsty," Tony says as the Princeton story winds down. "What's our poison tonight? Or should I see if they can whip up a Stark Perfection for old time's sake?"
Charles and Emma groan in unison.
"Oh god, Tony, no," Charles says. "I live in this city. I run a respectful business. I can't be kicked out of a bar here."
"Just one!" Tony insists. "It'll be like old times, except you probably won't end up with your hand down my pants at the end of the night."
"He definitely won't," Erik says with an edge to his voice that makes Tony, of all things, nod approvingly.
"Stark Perfection," Charles explains for Erik's benefit, ignoring the crack about his sexual mores, "is a drink Tony invented when we were...fifteen?"
"Sixteen," Emma says. "You didn't join us in the land of underage drinking until your sixteenth birthday and you were there the first time we tried them."
"We were sixteen," Charles says. "And Tony decided to invent the most potent drink he could manage that our still-delicate palates could handle. And when Tony Stark tries something, he doesn't stop until he gets it right."
"It's about ten times as strong as it tastes," Tony says proudly.
"Several rounds of Stark Perfections was what got us kicked out of the bar in Harvard," Emma says. "Tony taught all the bartenders to make them that week."
"They still serve them there!" Tony says. "They told me when--did I ever tell you guys I went back and got that picture when I moved out of Cambridge?"
Charles covers his face with his hands. Emma rolls her eyes.
"Of course you did," Emma says.
"Seriously, my last stop on my way out of town and I popped in and introduced myself and asked for the picture. I have it framed in my office, hand to god. I'll show you!" He pulls out his mobile and taps the screen a few times, then holds the phone up to his ear. "Pepper? No, I'm still--no, I don't need bail! Not yet, anyway. Can you do me a favor? No, not that kind of--that was one time, Pepper! I just--it's not a 'raise' kind of favor, okay? I just need you to take a picture for me. Of the polaroid framed on my desk. That's the one. No, just take a shot with your phone and send it to me. You're the best. No, I won't forget my flight. No I--oh, gotta go, bad reception, can't hear you--"
He hangs up the phone and puts it on the table.
"Don't worry," he says. "She'll send it. Wait until you see it. Blast from the past, guys." A moment later, the phone buzzes and he eagerly displays the photo he's received. It's pretty much exactly what Erik imagined. Emma is in a cream colored dress that hits mid thigh and is towering over Charles and Tony due to a combination of three inch heels and Charles and Tony's inability to stand up straight. The boys, in jeans and t-shirts, have their arms around each other in an ill-advised attempt to stay upright. All three of them are laughing and obviously blitzed, oblivious to the angry looking bouncers standing behind them. On the white strip at the bottom of the photo, in handwriting that's almost too blurry to make out, is "Do NOT serve anything to these MINORS. Do not even ALLOW THEM ON THE PREMISES."
"Memories," Tony says.
"Oh god," Charles says.
"I'll get the drinks, shall I?" Tony says, and disappears before anyone can stop him.
***
They're three drinks into the night--Charles had firmly put his foot down after one Stark Perfection and insisted they switch to something tamer--and it's going more pleasantly than Erik imagined. He hasn't looked at his watch once, and he's found that most of the idol worship of Tony Stark has faded away with the introduction of alcohol. It's easy for Erik to forget that he's sharing a table with an engineering wunderkind and instead focus on the fact that he's sharing a table with one of his boyfriend's childhood best friends, who is just full of embarrassing stories.
"And after that," Tony says, wiping tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes, "Emma's mother locked the cat up every time we came over."
Erik laughs hard enough that he has to lean on the table for support. Emma is chuckling and even Charles is laughing as he tries to hide his face in Erik's shoulder.
"I can't believe you told him that!" Charles says, smacking Tony's arm.
"I can't believe you didn't," Tony says. "I like that story."
"You like that story because it's about me being totally embarrassed and you getting away with everything, as usual," Charles says. He shakes his head and pushes himself to his feet. "I'm using the restroom. Do not, under any circumstances, tell him anything else about our childhood while I'm gone." He glares at Emma and Tony and then pats Erik on the head. "I'll be right back, my dear. Don't listen to a word they say about me."
Erik smirks as Charles makes his way to the restroom, more or less upright the entire time. Emma and Tony watch him go, but instead of regaling Erik with another story as soon as Charles is out of earshot, they look at each other, suddenly more serious than they've been since they started drinking.
"I told you about him a couple years ago," Emma says, gesturing towards Erik. A couple years ago? Charles and Emma weren't speaking a couple years ago. How did she-- "I was doing a project with Coulson. He's smart. The best engineer at the firm by far. The youngest department head in the history of the company."
"Excuse me," Erik says, "I'm right here. What the fuck are you--"
"I don't remember this," Tony says. "Don't you usually--"
"Yes," Emma says. "But I was busy and I ended up running off to Japan for a few weeks to put out some fires there and I forgot. But I definitely e-mailed you."
Tony turns to Erik, the same serious expression on his face.
"Where did you go to school?" he asks.
"Uh," Erik says. "UPenn for undergrad. I did my master's at CalTech's CSEM."
"On a full ride," Emma adds. Erik's not sure how she knows that.
"Really?" Tony says. He looks impressed. "I guess Charles wasn't exaggerating when he said you were brilliant."
Erik doesn't quite know what to say to that, so he shrugs.
"What brought you to Coulson?" Tony asks.
"I... applied at a few places on the west coast, but I hated California and when I didn't get past the first interview with my first choice, I applied back here." Erik doesn't mention that Stark Industries was his first choice. "Coulson is a good company. Good reputation, lots of room for growth, they work with interesting projects and let me choose my own assignments, for the most part." He feels oddly like he's in some sort of job interview.
"What about Stark Industries?" Tony asks, almost off-handedly, as if he's not been mostly in charge of the world's largest, fastest growing technological company in the few years since his father died.
"Applications were open when I first graduated CalTech," Erik says. "I applied then and also the next time applications were open. I didn't make it past the first interview either time."
"And what about when they were open again last year?" Tony asks.
"Seriously?" Erik asks. Tony gestures for him to continue. He wonders if this is some sort of test and what he's possibly being scored on. "Last year I had already met Charles," he says. "Moving to California was out of the question."
Tony nods shrewdly and taps his fingers on the table top.
"Thanks," he says. "And, while we're on the subject, what are your intentions towards Charles?"
Erik rolls his eyes. "What are you, his mother?" he asks.
"No," Tony says. "We actually care about him, so we're definitely not his mother. But we do want him to be happy."
"So do I," Erik says. "I intend to make him happy and keep him that way. I intend to... to listen to his two hour condescending rants about the state of education and nod and smile when I'm supposed to. I intend to watch awful reality television with him because he's addicted and won't seek help. I intend to put up with the piles and piles of children's crafts that are stuck on every available surface and shoved in every available drawer. I intend to... help him with the daycare and listen when he's concerned. I intend to make him tea the way he likes and pick the olives out of my salads for him and... kiss him every morning and every night. I intend to hurt anyone who tries to cross him and do what I can to protect him from anyone who wants to hurt him in the first place."
"And love him?" Tony asks, eyebrows raised.
"I was under the impression you were a smart man, Mr. Stark," Erik snaps. "And yet, here you are, asking a ridiculously stupid question. Of course I love him. He's Charles."
Tony nods, cracking a smile. "Just making sure."
Erik turns to Emma, exasperated. "And you? Would you like to interrogate me as well?"
"No need," Emma says, examining her manicure. "I swept your mind earlier to make sure you weren't just after Charles for his money or anything tawdry. I told Tony, but he wouldn't believe me."
"I believed you," Tony insisted. "I just wanted to be sure for myself."
"Really, Emma?"
Erik doesn't have to turn around. Charles is standing behind him. Now that he's thinking about it, he can feel his watch and his money clip and his cellphone.
"You don't think I've checked for that myself?" he asks, taking his seat again. Erik wonders how long he's been standing there.
Long enough to discover what you think about my love of reality television, Charles thinks, but there's a warmth and a fondness to it. His thoughts curl through Erik's mind in something like an embrace.
"Sometimes you make naive decisions about love, Charles," Emma says. "I was just looking out for you."
"And was this one of them?" Charles asks, raising his eyebrows.
"Well, obviously not," she says. "Though I still don't understand what you see in him."
"Very many things," Charles assures her. He puts his arm around Erik's waist and smiles up at him. "I mean, for one thing, he's tall, so he can get things out of high cabinets for me."
A surprised laugh bubbles it's way out of Erik's chest. Emma and Tony are similarly afflicted, it seems.
"I remember when we were the ones who got things out of high cabinets for you," Tony says.
"Not exactly," Emma says. "You're nearly as short as he is and you always have been."
"Nearly," Tony says. "I have an inch on him. That's an important inch."
"Still, I was the one who used to get things out of the cabinet over the sink for the both of you. Why Sharon thought that was a good place to hide the liquor, I'll never know. Those days have been gone for a long time now, haven't they?"
The mood at the table shifts abruptly. Tension bleeds into Charles' shoulders and back and the warmth lingering in Erik's mind shudders. Tony and Emma's eyes are sharply focused on Charles. They're not angry or accusing, just...sad, in a way.
Erik takes Charles' hand. He has a feeling Charles will need it.
"I..." Charles starts to say. "I'm... I'm very sorry."
"We just want to know why, man," Tony says plaintively. "Kurt dies and I get that he fucked you up. I get that you turned on your mom. But we understood. We would have been there for you."
"I... I don't know what to say. I don't have a good excuse," Charles says. He scratches at a smudge on the top of the table with his thumbnail, eyes focused on the minute gesture. "Mum shut me out and I just... it was easier, not going back there. Not thinking about it not...talking about it. It was easier to cut all ties and try to pretend I was someone else. I kept meaning to call but then days turned into weeks turned into months and I hadn't heard from you either so I just...I thought it would be better that way."
"Charles," Emma says on an exasperated sigh. "It's not like you to be so dense, sweetie."
"No, no," Tony says. "It's very much like him. Remember that team-building field trip sophomore year?"
"No matter how hard I try to forget it," Emma says.
"I didn't know what to do," Charles says, twisting his fingers with Erik's. "Everyone was so shocked and outraged that I didn't show up at the funeral...."
"Not us," Tony says. "Charles--why do you think we spent so much time trying to keep you out of the house? That guy was a scumbag and we all knew it, but there was nothing we could do except try to keep you away. I didn't steal a jet to fly us to Paris for a week for my health."
"No," Charles says, around a choked laugh, "you did it to see if you could."
"Okay, that's true," Tony admits, "but it was also so you didn't have to spend a week alone with that creep while your mom was in London."
"We were your friends, sugar," Emma says.
Charles slumps forward and rests his forehead on the table.
"I'm a bastard," he mutters.
"Kind of," Tony says. "But, hey, so are the rest of us. Just, don't let it happen again, Xavier." He ruffles Charles' hair and then cups the back of his neck. He nods at Erik, "You look like you're gonna be around for a while. Make sure he keeps the idiocy to a minimum."
"I'll do my best," Erik says. "I make no promises, however. He can be obstinate."
"You're supposed to be on my side," Charles says, raising his head enough to glare at Erik half-heartedly.
"Sorry," Erik says with a shrug.
"So!" Emma says, picking up her drink and taking a sip, "Now that we've dealt with that unpleasantness, shall we get back to drunken nostalgia? I think Erik would love to hear about Paris."
Charles sits up sharply. "Paris," he says, "was not at all my fault."
"Why don't you tell me about it?" Erik asks, leaning back, Charles' hand still clasped in his.
"I will," Charles says. And he does.
***
Erik had initially planned on being out for an hour, maybe two at the most, but it's after one am when Tony gets a phone call from the mysterious Pepper reminding him that wheels-up is six am and he's in bed, right?
"It's my plane!" Tony says. "Don't I get some say in when it leaves? I mean, it's not like it's leaving without me, so--"
This is, apparently, the wrong thing to say, if the volume at which Pepper responds is anything to go by. Charles smirks around the neck of his beer bottle and Emma hides a smile behind her hand as Tony puts the phone down and shrugs helplessly.
"It is getting late," Charles says, looking at his watch.
"Mm," Emma says. She pulls out her own cellphone and hits a few buttons absently. "I've sent for my driver. Do you need a ride back into the city, Tony?"
"Sure," Tony says.
"And you boys?" she asks.
"I'm fine to drive," Erik says.
"Are you really fine or are you just saying that?" Charles asks. Erik holds up his glass.
"Water, last two rounds," he assures Charles, who is very obviously drunk, but still mostly together, a strange feat of mental chemistry that Erik envies.
"Good," Charles says, and leans over to kiss the spot right behind Erik's ear, a move that's generally code for, 'I can't wait to get you home and take your clothes off.' Erik grins and gets to his feet, tugging Charles after him.
"It was a pleasure," Erik says, and finds that he means it.
"Surprisingly," Emma says. "I'm sure we'll be seeing more of you."
"Indeed," Erik says. He's not sure if he's looking forward to it or not.
Charles hugs Tony tightly and murmurs something in his ear that makes him laugh and then moves on to give Emma the same treatment. Erik offers Tony his hand.
"I have to admit," Erik says, "It was odd to spend an evening with you and not talk shop, but it was still a pleasure."
"You and Charles will have to come over sometime," Tony says. "There's nothing like tooling around in my workshop with someone smart enough to keep up."
Erik tries very hard not to pass out from elation and somehow manages to keep his response to a cool half-smile.
"I look forward to it," he says.
Charles is back, winding their arms together and glancing meaningfully towards the door.
"We'll do this again soon," Charles says to Tony and Emma. "Good night!"
They're halfway to the door when Tony shouts, "Oh, hey, Erik!"
Erik glances over his shoulder with raised eyebrows.
"I'm starting a new division of Stark Industries in New York in a couple months. Let me know if you know any good engineers looking for jobs."
Erik feels his jaw drop.
"He will!" Charles calls back cheerfully. "We'll talk to you soon, Tony!"
Charles pulls him out of the bar before he can respond for himself.
Tony Stark just offered him a job. Tony Stark possibly just offered him his own team. At Stark Industries.
"You still good to drive?" Charles teases.
"I. Um," Erik responds.
"See, I told you it wouldn't be excruciating," Charles says.
"Get in the car," Erik says, eyes still wide. Azazel, definitely. He can convince Azazel to leave Coulson, especially if it's for Stark Industries. Are any of the others even half-competent? He'll have to actually pull a progress report on Monday. Maybe even visit the labs.
"Oh god, please don't tell me you're in an engineering coma now," Charles says as he buckles his seat belt. "Erik, you'd better be over this by the time we get home, because we're having sex either way and it's just creepy when you're like this."
"I'm fine," Erik says, distractedly. Maybe he can get Azazel to visit the labs and tell him which ones are worth the personal effort.
"I'm going to kill Tony," Charles mutters as Erik pulls out into traffic, mentally delegating his upcoming projects and oblivious to Charles' pout.
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Characters: Charles/Erik, Emma Frost, Tony Stark (references to past Charles/Tony, Charles/randoms)
Rating: PG13 for lots of references to underage drinking and debauchery
Length: ~6300
Summary: Emma invites Charles and Erik out for a drink that turns into a violently careening high speed chase down memory lane. (Also, even Tony Stark's clockblocking is innovative.)
Note: Part of Daycare Verse, an AU wherein Charles runs a mutant daycare and Erik is his long-suffering engineer boyfriend. Mostly stands alone, but references two other daycare stories. Thanks to brilligspoons for making sure I got Tony right. The title is cribbed from a quote attributed to Nikita Ivanovich Panin. There's a reference to my favorite Text From Xavier Academy.
It's Saturday morning. Quite a nice Saturday morning, actually, in Erik's opinion. Charles was up early enough that Erik woke to eggs and bacon frying on the stove and coffee brewing on the counter. They have nothing planned for the day, and days with no agenda are the best kind, as far as Erik's concerned.
There's breakfast and then a morning and afternoon of reading and terrible movies on basic cable. Erik's going to suggest going out for something to eat, when Charles phone rings.
"Could you get that?" Charles asks, not even lifting his head up from Erik's chest. Erik rolls his eyes and paws ineffectually at the end table, using his powers to nudge the phone a few inches closer until he can lift it. He glances at the display and groans.
"I shouldn't give this to you," he says, but then there's Charles in his mind.
"Emma!" he says, delighted, and raises his head enough to snatch the phone. He pushes himself up and, in the process, elbows Erik in the solar plexus as he cheerfully answers the call with, "Emma! Darling! I'm so happy you called!"
Erik grumbles and sits up himself, leaning against Charles' back.
"Oh, that's wonderful," Charles says, leaning back against Erik. "No, no, I'd love to! And Erik--" He laughs and Erik's rather sure it's at his expense. "Well, he'll tolerate it," Charles says, tipping his head back onto Erik's shoulder. He smiles at Erik encouragingly. "Mm, no, because he loves me very much." He turns his head and presses his lips against the side of Erik's throat. "No, I know where it is. We'll see you at eight or so? Brilliant. See you soon, darling."
He hangs up, grinning.
"We're going out for drinks with Emma tonight," he tells Erik, softening the inevitable with a quick kiss. "I know she doesn't thrill you, but she was my best friend when I was a boy and I'd like her back in my life. I promise I will do my best to keep it from being too excruciating."
And there were so few good things about Charles' life back then that Erik can't help but allow it.
"Fine," he grumbles. "But we're not staying out long."
"We'll be brief," Charles assures him with another kiss. "Thank you."
***
The bar Emma wants to meet them at is classier than the sort of places that Charles and Erik regular. Everything is sleek glass and chrome and even the tipsy people chatting at the bar are relatively quiet and civil. They find Emma at a secluded round table in the back corner. She raises a single, well manicured hand, and Charles unlaces his fingers from Erik's leaning down to embrace her tightly.
"Oh, Emma," he says.
"Charles, darling," she says. Her voice has the detached, cool cadence Erik's used to from working three obscenely long projects with her over the years, but he sees how tightly she clutches Charles. "I'm so happy to see you." They break apart and Emma glances at Erik over Charles' shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "Lehnsherr. Nice to see you as well."
Erik grunts in response and takes the chair across from Emma, allowing Charles to sit next to her.
"Thanks for calling us," Charles says. "It was so good to see you at the picnic, Emma, and I was--well. I'm glad you're--I thought seeing you again might go differently."
"Charles, you and Tony were the only people worth knowing for the first nineteen years of my life," Emma says. She reaches across the table to pat his hand. "It's not something I'd forget lightly, sugar."
Something in Charles relaxes slightly. Erik has his arm across the back of Charles' chair and he can feel the minute shift of his muscles.
Everything all right? he asks. He's careful to project it towards the lingering warmth at the edge of his mind, the presence that's always hovering there whenever he and Charles are together. He doesn't think that would stop Frost if she wanted to march into his mind and snatch it anyway, but it's better than tossing it out in the open where she could see it without even trying.
Fine, Charles thinks back. It's just been a while.
Let me know if you want to leave. And maybe that one is a little louder than Erik intended, because Emma glances at him and raises her eyebrows. Erik stares back, coolly.
I'm fine, Charles assures him, and he looks fine, he sounds fine, so Erik leans back and shifts his thoughts to conductor materials and how much they can talk the firm into shelling out in order to get the job done right.
"So what are you up to now, Emma?" Charles asks, and Erik tunes out completely, relying on Charles to tap him back into the conversation if he begins to appear rude. Or. Well. Ruder than normal.
Perhaps he should have at least kept one ear on the conversation, though, because it isn't until it's been stopped for several seconds that Erik notices the silence. He glances at Charles, but both he and Emma are staring at the bar where--oh.
Where Tony fucking Stark is waving and approaching the table.
Several things become so clear that Erik feels like an idiot for not connecting the dots sooner. In the two weeks since learning Emma and Charles grew up together, Charles has shared numerous stories about their third musketeer, a boy named Tony who was a genius, seemed to like drinking and partying to excess, graduated early with Charles and went to MIT, and came from a good enough family to mingle with the Xaviers and the Frosts. Of course it was Tony Stark. Tony Stark, heir to the greatest technology company in the world. Tony Stark, who has enough money to hire the best engineers in the business but still prefers to go over every design himself. Tony Stark, who, for all he's in the tabloids, for all he's only twenty-five years old, is smarter, faster, and more innovative than anyone else in their field.
If Erik is feeling a little lightheaded, it's only because he had a rather small dinner and jumped right into drinking a beer. It's certainly not because he's wanted to work for Stark Industries since he entered the engineering program at UPenn.
"I heard Emma was in town," Stark says as he approaches their table. "I thought I'd drop in and say hi." He's all smiles as he leans over and kisses Emma's cheek. Charles looks nervous, but also like it's his birthday and he hesitates for a moment. Erik may be slightly star-struck, but he's aware enough to notice that, and if Stark's about to do something to upset Charles, he'll have no problem flooring him.
Charles blinks and smiles slightly.
No need for that, my dear, he thinks, and gets to his feet.
Erik spares a look for Emma, who is staring at him curiously. He glares at her, but she only smiles and shakes her head.
"Tony," Charles says cautiously.
Stark raises his eyebrows and holds his arms out. "Charles. Seriously. I know it's been a while, but I think you're usually a little happier to see me?"
That's the tipping point, apparently, because Charles' smile becomes huge and genuine and he all but throws himself into Stark's arms, laughing.
"Tony," he says again. "God, I've missed you!"
"I missed you too, Xavier," Stark says. He pulls back and Erik doesn't even register the dip of his head until Charles puts a hand in front of his mouth. Then he just blinks in shock. Tony Stark just tried to kiss his boyfriend.
He should probably be more angry than turned on. He's working on it, but it's all very confusing.
"Sorry, Tony," Charles says. "I'm off the market."
"I know that," Tony insists, pulling Charles' hand away from his mouth. "Emma told me. I was just going to kiss your cheek. Jesus, Xavier, not everyone wants to jump into your pants."
"I think I have compelling evidence that proves otherwise," Charles says, but he allows Tony to kiss his cheek.
"Plus," Tony continues as if he didn't hear Charles. "There's always the chance that 'boyfriend' doesn't mean 'off the market.' I remember Emma's sweet sixteen, you know."
"That was entirely different!" Charles says. "Thomas wasn't really my boyfriend and he was rubbish at kissing. We had an arrangement."
"And you don't have an arrangement now?" Tony ask innocently. Which is Erik's cue to wrench himself from the sudden horrifying realization that his boyfriend used to fuck Tony Stark and get to his feet.
"No," he says. "We don't have an arrangement. So it would be best for you to take a step back before I'm forced to stake my claim or break your fingers." He says it with the smile that inspires Jean to send home drawings of him as a shark. It's good that he can mange that, because inside his head he's maybe lamenting that his first words to one of his idols are a threat of bodily harm.
"Oh, you're... adorable," Charles says, grinning, and extricates himself from Tony's grasp to all but jump on Erik. "Really, you are."
"I'm no such thing," Erik says, glaring, because, adorable? Really? 'Adorable' is a word people use to describe Charles, not him.
You never mentioned that you have a thing for Tony Stark! Charles thinks.
You never mentioned that you knew Tony Stark, Erik thinks back, darkly.
"Erik's an engineer," Emma says to Tony. Both Charles and Erik divert their attention back to Tony and Emma. "Charles might just have a type."
"Is that so?" Tony asks, raising his eyebrows and dropping into the closest chair, the one Charles had been sitting in.
"Oh, please," Charles says. "It doesn't say anything about me other than I like spending time with smart people. Erik is brilliant."
Tony's looking at him appraisingly, and Erik mutters, "Well. Not MIT-at-sixteen brilliant, but I get by."
"Don't listen to him," Charles says. "He's acting strangely modest. Usually he enjoys being the smartest person in the room."
"See?" Emma says. "A type."
"Hush," Charles says. "Besides, Tony was never my boyfriend. He was just a very attractive friend whom I sometimes made out with."
"Sometimes?" Emma says, and Charles glares at her and then turns a beatific smile up at Erik.
"Sit, darling," he says, and Erik complies, moving back one seat so that Charles can sit in the chair he had previously been occupying. "Anyway, as I was saying, Tony, this is my boyfriend, Erik Lehnsherr. Erik, this is Tony Stark."
"Pleasure to meet you," Erik says, reaching across the table to shake Tony's hand and trying not to seem overexcited or starstruck. "Sorry about threatening to break your fingers."
"Hey, no problem," Tony says easily. "It's actually fairly gratifying to see after some of the assholes Charles has dated."
"Briefly," Charles stresses. He looks slightly embarrassed when he glances at Erik. "I never hung around those boys for long. Besides, sometimes when you're young and fully aware of what you're getting into, it's okay to use someone else for sex. Or use them to have sex with their roommate. Or to make someone else jealous."
Erik's jaw doesn't drop, but it's a very near thing. He has a particular picture of Charles in his mind. The picture involves sweater vests and macaroni necklaces and a swarm of mutant brats and prattling on about education and, yes, the occasional night of heavy drinking, but nothing too deviant. Not that casual sex or using other people for sex is deviant, necessarily, but it's just not something he would ever associate with Charles.
"Um," he says.
"I'm embarrassingly in love with you," Charles assures him quickly. "You know that. I didn't mean--"
"I know," Erik says. Because he does. This revelation doesn't change anything about his perception of what Charles feels for him. It does, however, change his perception of what Charles' life was like before they met. He's trying to line up his picture of Charles with this new evidence and... it shouldn't be hot. Probably he's a bad person for thinking about Charles in college, eighteen and reveling in the freedom of not being under his parents' thumb, sleeping his way through the dorms--
Please save that for when we get home, Charles' voice rings out in his mind, torn between amusement and sheepishness.
Sorry, Erik thinks. He casually drops his arm down around Charles' shoulders and leans back, trying hard to project an aura of 'tell me more' without actually projecting.
"That's our Charles," Emma says fondly. "He never had a problem he couldn't slut his way out of. The Princeton rowers. Adam Edison. The bouncer at that bar in Poughkeepsie. The waiter in Paris. Any time you had a fight with Tony."
"Tony and I never slept together," Charles says firmly, but then he frowns. "Um, I think. Honestly, much of the week surrounding Tony's seventeenth birthday is somewhat blurry. I remember very little aside from throwing up in Emma's hat at one point."
"That was me," Tony says.
"It was both of you on two separate nights," Emma informs them, rolling her eyes. "Tony also still owes me a pair of shoes."
"He's thrown up on your shoes tons of times!" Tony protests. "Probably at least once that week."
"You didn't throw up on them," Emma says. "You wore them around Harvard Square to prove you could and broke the heels and stretched them to high heaven."
"Oh," Tony says. There's a pause. "Did I look good, at least?"
"You have fantastic legs," Emma says. "It's a tragedy they're wasted on a man."
"It was a weekend to remember," Charles says. "Well, more like a week. And also, I don't remember it."
"We got kicked out of this bar," Tony says, leaning forward and speaking directly to Erik and, really, any second now he's going to get over the fact that he's having a conversation with Tony Stark and wasting it on childhood memories and not the latest technological developments coming out of Stark Industries.
My childhood, thanks, Charles reminds him. He leans forward and presses an absent kiss to Charles' temple while motioning for Tony to continue.
"And I don't mean 'escorted out to the street,' I mean they had took a polaroid of the three of us and taped it to the wall and wouldn't let me back in the entire time I lived in Cambridge," Tony says. "Even Emma was blacklisted, which may have been a first for her. Emma can talk her way out of anything."
"And mentally nudge her way out of anything," Charles adds, not quite under his breath.
"It was all thanks to those cretins," Emma insists. She gestures at Tony and Charles, who are grinning conspiratorially. "So we're out on the street in Harvard Square and Tony--"
"I honestly didn't think that cop would take me seriously!" he interjects.
"We're lucky we weren't all arrested for public drunkenness," Emma says. "We were all underage, keep in mind. But we were just ordered not to step foot in Harvard Square for twenty-four hours. Which, as it turned out, was just enough time for Charles and Tony to get over their hangovers, get drunk on the shitty tequila we stole from one of Tony's suitemates, and then get over their hangovers again."
"And design a more efficient freezer!" Tony says. "Don't forget that part!"
"I'd hardly call it a freezer," Charles says. "It was more a... dry ice gun."
"I'm still amazed the two of you were able to build it after the amount of cheap tequila you had," Emma says.
"We're made of sterner stuff," Tony says, smacking his chest.
"That was only the first day, too," Charles says to Erik. "We were there a week. By the end of it, I was afraid we'd be banned from the Commonwealth of Massachusetts all together."
"My family basically owns half of Massachusetts," Emma says blandly. "It never would have stuck, honey."
"Fascinating," Erik says dryly. "I'm learning all sorts of things about you today." Charles blushes, but he's loose and happy and leans up for a kiss which Erik is happy to provide. The light anxiety from earlier is almost completely absent, and Erik finally feels like he can relax.
"No need to be anxious on my behalf," Charles murmurs as he pulls back from the kiss.
"I like to be on my guard," Erik says.
"Over-protective," Charles scoffs.
"That's not always a bad thing," Erik says.
I haven't spoken to either of them in so long, I was afraid they might think poorly of me, Charles thinks, leaning against Erik's shoulder as Tony starts another improbable story about a trip to visit Emma at Princeton and the fight that Tony nearly got into with half the rowing crew. Not for the first time, Erik wonders what Charles did to break contact with people he was obviously so close with. He hadn't explained, not really, but by all accounts he hasn't spoken to either of them since his stepfather died over six years ago.
"All this talk is making me thirsty," Tony says as the Princeton story winds down. "What's our poison tonight? Or should I see if they can whip up a Stark Perfection for old time's sake?"
Charles and Emma groan in unison.
"Oh god, Tony, no," Charles says. "I live in this city. I run a respectful business. I can't be kicked out of a bar here."
"Just one!" Tony insists. "It'll be like old times, except you probably won't end up with your hand down my pants at the end of the night."
"He definitely won't," Erik says with an edge to his voice that makes Tony, of all things, nod approvingly.
"Stark Perfection," Charles explains for Erik's benefit, ignoring the crack about his sexual mores, "is a drink Tony invented when we were...fifteen?"
"Sixteen," Emma says. "You didn't join us in the land of underage drinking until your sixteenth birthday and you were there the first time we tried them."
"We were sixteen," Charles says. "And Tony decided to invent the most potent drink he could manage that our still-delicate palates could handle. And when Tony Stark tries something, he doesn't stop until he gets it right."
"It's about ten times as strong as it tastes," Tony says proudly.
"Several rounds of Stark Perfections was what got us kicked out of the bar in Harvard," Emma says. "Tony taught all the bartenders to make them that week."
"They still serve them there!" Tony says. "They told me when--did I ever tell you guys I went back and got that picture when I moved out of Cambridge?"
Charles covers his face with his hands. Emma rolls her eyes.
"Of course you did," Emma says.
"Seriously, my last stop on my way out of town and I popped in and introduced myself and asked for the picture. I have it framed in my office, hand to god. I'll show you!" He pulls out his mobile and taps the screen a few times, then holds the phone up to his ear. "Pepper? No, I'm still--no, I don't need bail! Not yet, anyway. Can you do me a favor? No, not that kind of--that was one time, Pepper! I just--it's not a 'raise' kind of favor, okay? I just need you to take a picture for me. Of the polaroid framed on my desk. That's the one. No, just take a shot with your phone and send it to me. You're the best. No, I won't forget my flight. No I--oh, gotta go, bad reception, can't hear you--"
He hangs up the phone and puts it on the table.
"Don't worry," he says. "She'll send it. Wait until you see it. Blast from the past, guys." A moment later, the phone buzzes and he eagerly displays the photo he's received. It's pretty much exactly what Erik imagined. Emma is in a cream colored dress that hits mid thigh and is towering over Charles and Tony due to a combination of three inch heels and Charles and Tony's inability to stand up straight. The boys, in jeans and t-shirts, have their arms around each other in an ill-advised attempt to stay upright. All three of them are laughing and obviously blitzed, oblivious to the angry looking bouncers standing behind them. On the white strip at the bottom of the photo, in handwriting that's almost too blurry to make out, is "Do NOT serve anything to these MINORS. Do not even ALLOW THEM ON THE PREMISES."
"Memories," Tony says.
"Oh god," Charles says.
"I'll get the drinks, shall I?" Tony says, and disappears before anyone can stop him.
***
They're three drinks into the night--Charles had firmly put his foot down after one Stark Perfection and insisted they switch to something tamer--and it's going more pleasantly than Erik imagined. He hasn't looked at his watch once, and he's found that most of the idol worship of Tony Stark has faded away with the introduction of alcohol. It's easy for Erik to forget that he's sharing a table with an engineering wunderkind and instead focus on the fact that he's sharing a table with one of his boyfriend's childhood best friends, who is just full of embarrassing stories.
"And after that," Tony says, wiping tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes, "Emma's mother locked the cat up every time we came over."
Erik laughs hard enough that he has to lean on the table for support. Emma is chuckling and even Charles is laughing as he tries to hide his face in Erik's shoulder.
"I can't believe you told him that!" Charles says, smacking Tony's arm.
"I can't believe you didn't," Tony says. "I like that story."
"You like that story because it's about me being totally embarrassed and you getting away with everything, as usual," Charles says. He shakes his head and pushes himself to his feet. "I'm using the restroom. Do not, under any circumstances, tell him anything else about our childhood while I'm gone." He glares at Emma and Tony and then pats Erik on the head. "I'll be right back, my dear. Don't listen to a word they say about me."
Erik smirks as Charles makes his way to the restroom, more or less upright the entire time. Emma and Tony watch him go, but instead of regaling Erik with another story as soon as Charles is out of earshot, they look at each other, suddenly more serious than they've been since they started drinking.
"I told you about him a couple years ago," Emma says, gesturing towards Erik. A couple years ago? Charles and Emma weren't speaking a couple years ago. How did she-- "I was doing a project with Coulson. He's smart. The best engineer at the firm by far. The youngest department head in the history of the company."
"Excuse me," Erik says, "I'm right here. What the fuck are you--"
"I don't remember this," Tony says. "Don't you usually--"
"Yes," Emma says. "But I was busy and I ended up running off to Japan for a few weeks to put out some fires there and I forgot. But I definitely e-mailed you."
Tony turns to Erik, the same serious expression on his face.
"Where did you go to school?" he asks.
"Uh," Erik says. "UPenn for undergrad. I did my master's at CalTech's CSEM."
"On a full ride," Emma adds. Erik's not sure how she knows that.
"Really?" Tony says. He looks impressed. "I guess Charles wasn't exaggerating when he said you were brilliant."
Erik doesn't quite know what to say to that, so he shrugs.
"What brought you to Coulson?" Tony asks.
"I... applied at a few places on the west coast, but I hated California and when I didn't get past the first interview with my first choice, I applied back here." Erik doesn't mention that Stark Industries was his first choice. "Coulson is a good company. Good reputation, lots of room for growth, they work with interesting projects and let me choose my own assignments, for the most part." He feels oddly like he's in some sort of job interview.
"What about Stark Industries?" Tony asks, almost off-handedly, as if he's not been mostly in charge of the world's largest, fastest growing technological company in the few years since his father died.
"Applications were open when I first graduated CalTech," Erik says. "I applied then and also the next time applications were open. I didn't make it past the first interview either time."
"And what about when they were open again last year?" Tony asks.
"Seriously?" Erik asks. Tony gestures for him to continue. He wonders if this is some sort of test and what he's possibly being scored on. "Last year I had already met Charles," he says. "Moving to California was out of the question."
Tony nods shrewdly and taps his fingers on the table top.
"Thanks," he says. "And, while we're on the subject, what are your intentions towards Charles?"
Erik rolls his eyes. "What are you, his mother?" he asks.
"No," Tony says. "We actually care about him, so we're definitely not his mother. But we do want him to be happy."
"So do I," Erik says. "I intend to make him happy and keep him that way. I intend to... to listen to his two hour condescending rants about the state of education and nod and smile when I'm supposed to. I intend to watch awful reality television with him because he's addicted and won't seek help. I intend to put up with the piles and piles of children's crafts that are stuck on every available surface and shoved in every available drawer. I intend to... help him with the daycare and listen when he's concerned. I intend to make him tea the way he likes and pick the olives out of my salads for him and... kiss him every morning and every night. I intend to hurt anyone who tries to cross him and do what I can to protect him from anyone who wants to hurt him in the first place."
"And love him?" Tony asks, eyebrows raised.
"I was under the impression you were a smart man, Mr. Stark," Erik snaps. "And yet, here you are, asking a ridiculously stupid question. Of course I love him. He's Charles."
Tony nods, cracking a smile. "Just making sure."
Erik turns to Emma, exasperated. "And you? Would you like to interrogate me as well?"
"No need," Emma says, examining her manicure. "I swept your mind earlier to make sure you weren't just after Charles for his money or anything tawdry. I told Tony, but he wouldn't believe me."
"I believed you," Tony insisted. "I just wanted to be sure for myself."
"Really, Emma?"
Erik doesn't have to turn around. Charles is standing behind him. Now that he's thinking about it, he can feel his watch and his money clip and his cellphone.
"You don't think I've checked for that myself?" he asks, taking his seat again. Erik wonders how long he's been standing there.
Long enough to discover what you think about my love of reality television, Charles thinks, but there's a warmth and a fondness to it. His thoughts curl through Erik's mind in something like an embrace.
"Sometimes you make naive decisions about love, Charles," Emma says. "I was just looking out for you."
"And was this one of them?" Charles asks, raising his eyebrows.
"Well, obviously not," she says. "Though I still don't understand what you see in him."
"Very many things," Charles assures her. He puts his arm around Erik's waist and smiles up at him. "I mean, for one thing, he's tall, so he can get things out of high cabinets for me."
A surprised laugh bubbles it's way out of Erik's chest. Emma and Tony are similarly afflicted, it seems.
"I remember when we were the ones who got things out of high cabinets for you," Tony says.
"Not exactly," Emma says. "You're nearly as short as he is and you always have been."
"Nearly," Tony says. "I have an inch on him. That's an important inch."
"Still, I was the one who used to get things out of the cabinet over the sink for the both of you. Why Sharon thought that was a good place to hide the liquor, I'll never know. Those days have been gone for a long time now, haven't they?"
The mood at the table shifts abruptly. Tension bleeds into Charles' shoulders and back and the warmth lingering in Erik's mind shudders. Tony and Emma's eyes are sharply focused on Charles. They're not angry or accusing, just...sad, in a way.
Erik takes Charles' hand. He has a feeling Charles will need it.
"I..." Charles starts to say. "I'm... I'm very sorry."
"We just want to know why, man," Tony says plaintively. "Kurt dies and I get that he fucked you up. I get that you turned on your mom. But we understood. We would have been there for you."
"I... I don't know what to say. I don't have a good excuse," Charles says. He scratches at a smudge on the top of the table with his thumbnail, eyes focused on the minute gesture. "Mum shut me out and I just... it was easier, not going back there. Not thinking about it not...talking about it. It was easier to cut all ties and try to pretend I was someone else. I kept meaning to call but then days turned into weeks turned into months and I hadn't heard from you either so I just...I thought it would be better that way."
"Charles," Emma says on an exasperated sigh. "It's not like you to be so dense, sweetie."
"No, no," Tony says. "It's very much like him. Remember that team-building field trip sophomore year?"
"No matter how hard I try to forget it," Emma says.
"I didn't know what to do," Charles says, twisting his fingers with Erik's. "Everyone was so shocked and outraged that I didn't show up at the funeral...."
"Not us," Tony says. "Charles--why do you think we spent so much time trying to keep you out of the house? That guy was a scumbag and we all knew it, but there was nothing we could do except try to keep you away. I didn't steal a jet to fly us to Paris for a week for my health."
"No," Charles says, around a choked laugh, "you did it to see if you could."
"Okay, that's true," Tony admits, "but it was also so you didn't have to spend a week alone with that creep while your mom was in London."
"We were your friends, sugar," Emma says.
Charles slumps forward and rests his forehead on the table.
"I'm a bastard," he mutters.
"Kind of," Tony says. "But, hey, so are the rest of us. Just, don't let it happen again, Xavier." He ruffles Charles' hair and then cups the back of his neck. He nods at Erik, "You look like you're gonna be around for a while. Make sure he keeps the idiocy to a minimum."
"I'll do my best," Erik says. "I make no promises, however. He can be obstinate."
"You're supposed to be on my side," Charles says, raising his head enough to glare at Erik half-heartedly.
"Sorry," Erik says with a shrug.
"So!" Emma says, picking up her drink and taking a sip, "Now that we've dealt with that unpleasantness, shall we get back to drunken nostalgia? I think Erik would love to hear about Paris."
Charles sits up sharply. "Paris," he says, "was not at all my fault."
"Why don't you tell me about it?" Erik asks, leaning back, Charles' hand still clasped in his.
"I will," Charles says. And he does.
***
Erik had initially planned on being out for an hour, maybe two at the most, but it's after one am when Tony gets a phone call from the mysterious Pepper reminding him that wheels-up is six am and he's in bed, right?
"It's my plane!" Tony says. "Don't I get some say in when it leaves? I mean, it's not like it's leaving without me, so--"
This is, apparently, the wrong thing to say, if the volume at which Pepper responds is anything to go by. Charles smirks around the neck of his beer bottle and Emma hides a smile behind her hand as Tony puts the phone down and shrugs helplessly.
"It is getting late," Charles says, looking at his watch.
"Mm," Emma says. She pulls out her own cellphone and hits a few buttons absently. "I've sent for my driver. Do you need a ride back into the city, Tony?"
"Sure," Tony says.
"And you boys?" she asks.
"I'm fine to drive," Erik says.
"Are you really fine or are you just saying that?" Charles asks. Erik holds up his glass.
"Water, last two rounds," he assures Charles, who is very obviously drunk, but still mostly together, a strange feat of mental chemistry that Erik envies.
"Good," Charles says, and leans over to kiss the spot right behind Erik's ear, a move that's generally code for, 'I can't wait to get you home and take your clothes off.' Erik grins and gets to his feet, tugging Charles after him.
"It was a pleasure," Erik says, and finds that he means it.
"Surprisingly," Emma says. "I'm sure we'll be seeing more of you."
"Indeed," Erik says. He's not sure if he's looking forward to it or not.
Charles hugs Tony tightly and murmurs something in his ear that makes him laugh and then moves on to give Emma the same treatment. Erik offers Tony his hand.
"I have to admit," Erik says, "It was odd to spend an evening with you and not talk shop, but it was still a pleasure."
"You and Charles will have to come over sometime," Tony says. "There's nothing like tooling around in my workshop with someone smart enough to keep up."
Erik tries very hard not to pass out from elation and somehow manages to keep his response to a cool half-smile.
"I look forward to it," he says.
Charles is back, winding their arms together and glancing meaningfully towards the door.
"We'll do this again soon," Charles says to Tony and Emma. "Good night!"
They're halfway to the door when Tony shouts, "Oh, hey, Erik!"
Erik glances over his shoulder with raised eyebrows.
"I'm starting a new division of Stark Industries in New York in a couple months. Let me know if you know any good engineers looking for jobs."
Erik feels his jaw drop.
"He will!" Charles calls back cheerfully. "We'll talk to you soon, Tony!"
Charles pulls him out of the bar before he can respond for himself.
Tony Stark just offered him a job. Tony Stark possibly just offered him his own team. At Stark Industries.
"You still good to drive?" Charles teases.
"I. Um," Erik responds.
"See, I told you it wouldn't be excruciating," Charles says.
"Get in the car," Erik says, eyes still wide. Azazel, definitely. He can convince Azazel to leave Coulson, especially if it's for Stark Industries. Are any of the others even half-competent? He'll have to actually pull a progress report on Monday. Maybe even visit the labs.
"Oh god, please don't tell me you're in an engineering coma now," Charles says as he buckles his seat belt. "Erik, you'd better be over this by the time we get home, because we're having sex either way and it's just creepy when you're like this."
"I'm fine," Erik says, distractedly. Maybe he can get Azazel to visit the labs and tell him which ones are worth the personal effort.
"I'm going to kill Tony," Charles mutters as Erik pulls out into traffic, mentally delegating his upcoming projects and oblivious to Charles' pout.