ficlet february 19: "lost in a city"
This is def one of my favorites so far ♥
***
Ficlet February 19: "lost in a city"
"I know it's here somewhere," Erik mutters, squinting through the windshield.
"I don't doubt you," Charles says. He does his best to hide his sigh. "But we've been driving for hours and it's late. Why don't we just go to the hotel and--"
"It's right nearby," Erik says. "I know it's nearby."
Charles leans back in the passenger seat of the car and stares out the window. It's dark and drizzly, the weather making the unfamiliar streets of St. Louis even harder to navigate. They spent most of the day on various types of transit, from a hired car to the airport, from the airport onto a very full flight, then into their rental car. Charles would like a chance to properly stretch, to massage his stiff muscles and move about some more. It's strange how much spending a whole day sitting idly reminds him just how much of a workout the wheelchair actually is.
But that will all have to wait. Erik is determined to take Charles on some sort of trip to visit...something. He's been vague about his destination. At first, he told Charles it would be a surprise with the lingering fond smile in his voice that never fails to turn Charles into the soppy old man he tries not to be. Now, though, there's a hint of determination and steel in his words. Charles doesn't doubt that they won't be going anywhere near the hotel until Erik finds whatever it is he's looking for.
"Do you even know where we are?" Charles asks lightly. Erik glares at him.
"If I knew where we were, I'd know how to get where we're going," he says.
"So we're lost?" Charles says.
"We're not lost!" Erik insists. Sixty years and the man utterly refuses to admit when he's lost. He claims his abilities don't allow for it. Charles has sixty years worth of experience that proves otherwise. "If all else fails, I can get us back to the hotel. I just want to do this first."
Charles turns his head away from the window and back towards Erik.
"Perhaps I could help if I knew where we were going?" Charles suggests.
Erik glances at him for a moment, then back at the road.
"We're close," he says. "It's just been sixty years since I've been here. Forgive the memory for being a little fuzzy."
Well, that's something of a hint at least. Sixty years would be around the time they first met. Erik was imprisoned in '63, so he's probably rounding down to either the year he spent on his own or the six months he spent with Charles after coming to America for the second time. (As far as Charles knows, Erik didn't leave the general DC area the first time, though Charles has never asked for too many details on the three weeks he spent hunting a lead in the nation's capital, bumping into a friend from his childhood, and taking her to bed. Magda herself has filled in some of the details, Wanda and Pietro others. Erik is universally mum on the topic.)
"Is it a place?" Charles asks casually.
"Be quiet," Erik says, and Charles sighs and leans back in the seat again. He'll give Erik fifteen more minutes, then he'll read the answer off of him so they can get on with it and Charles can get himself into a decent bed.
"Yes, wait--this way!" Erik says after exactly twelve minutes have passed. He makes a sharp left and Charles holds onto the door to steady himself, and soon they're driving down a shabby street that looks somehow familiar.
"Where are we?" Charles asks, but Erik's manic grin is back and he doesn't respond, taking one turn after another after another until he pulls to a stop in front of an old bar and a shabby looking community garden. Charles squints at it for a moment, and then closes his eyes and sees it exactly as it was--still shabby, but greener, with a bench in the front. It was tended to, then, and not filled with trash. And the two of them sat on that bench after being turned down by the young woman who waited tables in the bar and could shoot water from the tips of her fingers. It was late, and while they sat there, laughing, half-drunk and far too cheerful for the hour, Erik leaned over and kissed him.
It wasn't their first kiss. They'd been sleeping together since Boston, nearly a week prior. But it was the first kiss in front of the wider world, somewhere other than behind their closed bedroom door. It was really the first time either of them had acknowledged their budding romance at all. Charles remembers feeling warm down to his toes and ecstatically happy that he had managed to find such a brilliant, handsome man to join him on this quest, that the first other mutant he and Raven found was someone Charles thought he might be falling in love with.
It was the first night that he thought about the future past the mission they were training for. He thought about the school he wanted to start and the life he wanted to lead and the people he wanted to help. He imagined Erik there with him, his partner in all things.
Charles opens his eyes.
It may have taken them a few tries to get it right, but here they are at the same bench, sixty some-odd years later, their dreams eventually realized and fulfilled. He has his school, his life, and he has Erik with him, too.
He turns to Erik, who's smiling smugly.
"They say I'm the sentimental one," Charles says. He can't stop the smile spreading across his face.
"Yes, well, they think I'm a tyrant and they're not very imaginative," Erik says. He gestures to the bench. "This very spot, all those years ago. I sat there with you and you were laughing about--some crass joke you had made. I don't even remember what it was. You did that all the time, you know--laughed at your own terrible jokes. And I watched you and thought, 'Maybe I don't need to lose my own life to take Schmidt's. Maybe there are reasons to keep going.' I had never thought that before. I had never spent a single second thinking about what would come next until that moment. It terrified me, but it felt like everything made sense for the first time in so long. That I had a purpose. So I kissed you."
"I remember," Charles says. He reaches across the center console and takes one of Erik's hands, squeezing it. "You're a romantic old fool--mad as well. We could have come in the daylight, you know. You could have told me and I could have helped you look it up on a map."
"I was being spontaneous," Erik says, and Charles pulls him closer and kisses him.
"I love you," he says, because he doesn't know that he's said it yet today. "I'm glad we came."
Erik smiles slowly.
"I love you too, for all your nagging and impatience," he says. Charles brushes his hair off of his forehead and hmphs, trying hard not to smile.
"I don't nag and I'm not impatient," he says.
"In sixty years you've matured in many ways, dear," Erik says. "Patience is not one of them. At least, not when it comes to me."
"Come now," Charles says. "I waited a very long time for you to walk back into my life, after all."
Erik's expression turns serious again. He takes one of Charles' hands and raises it to his lips. He presses a dry kiss to the back of it and doesn't let go.
"You did," he admits. "And I am forever grateful."
Erik did his own share of waiting, of course, the bulk of it in solitary confinement, but all of that--the prison, the waiting, the quiet resentment in the years after--is in the distant past, now. In this moment, Charles is unbothered by the road bumps in their history, as is Erik, who drops Charles' hand and turns the car back on.
"It has been quite a rewarding sixty years," he says. "But we should be going forward, not backward."
"Yes, but this was a pleasant diversion nonetheless," Charles says. "I'm not ungrateful for the reminiscence. It's good to remember where we came from."
Erik hums in reply.
"It's better," Charles continues. "To direct ourselves where we're going. Hopefully somewhere with a bed?"
Erik laughs and shakes his head.
"Sixty years ago, that would have been an innuendo. You would have been holding yourself back from ravishing me, pulling me into bed with you," he says.
"Sixty years ago we were both far more limber," Charles says. "But I would still, of course, like to pull you into bed with me." He always sleeps better when Erik is beside him. "And in the morning, who knows? We have plenty of time before the conference starts for a quick ravishment."
Erik chuckles and reverses the car back down the side street, then does a k-turn back out onto the road.
Then he slows and frowns.
Charles sighs.
"Don't tell me you're lost," he says.
"I'm never lost," Erik insists, but the expression on his face begs to differ.
"You're an old fool," Charles says, but not without affection, as he pulls out his phone and turns on the GPS.
*
ficlet february!
Get some sleep
Five minutes away
Faint recognition
Half an hour before sunrise
Useless, but beautiful
Something’s broken
Surprise celebration
There were signs and signals
Rituals
Write about a postcard
What are you looking for?
You remind me of someone
A meeting, a beginning
Lasting impression
Long drive
Behind closed doors
Ask questions later
Six impossible things
Day off
Lost in a city
A door key
A late night phone call
Someone else’s mortification
Something from music
Something from a picture
***
Ficlet February 19: "lost in a city"
"I know it's here somewhere," Erik mutters, squinting through the windshield.
"I don't doubt you," Charles says. He does his best to hide his sigh. "But we've been driving for hours and it's late. Why don't we just go to the hotel and--"
"It's right nearby," Erik says. "I know it's nearby."
Charles leans back in the passenger seat of the car and stares out the window. It's dark and drizzly, the weather making the unfamiliar streets of St. Louis even harder to navigate. They spent most of the day on various types of transit, from a hired car to the airport, from the airport onto a very full flight, then into their rental car. Charles would like a chance to properly stretch, to massage his stiff muscles and move about some more. It's strange how much spending a whole day sitting idly reminds him just how much of a workout the wheelchair actually is.
But that will all have to wait. Erik is determined to take Charles on some sort of trip to visit...something. He's been vague about his destination. At first, he told Charles it would be a surprise with the lingering fond smile in his voice that never fails to turn Charles into the soppy old man he tries not to be. Now, though, there's a hint of determination and steel in his words. Charles doesn't doubt that they won't be going anywhere near the hotel until Erik finds whatever it is he's looking for.
"Do you even know where we are?" Charles asks lightly. Erik glares at him.
"If I knew where we were, I'd know how to get where we're going," he says.
"So we're lost?" Charles says.
"We're not lost!" Erik insists. Sixty years and the man utterly refuses to admit when he's lost. He claims his abilities don't allow for it. Charles has sixty years worth of experience that proves otherwise. "If all else fails, I can get us back to the hotel. I just want to do this first."
Charles turns his head away from the window and back towards Erik.
"Perhaps I could help if I knew where we were going?" Charles suggests.
Erik glances at him for a moment, then back at the road.
"We're close," he says. "It's just been sixty years since I've been here. Forgive the memory for being a little fuzzy."
Well, that's something of a hint at least. Sixty years would be around the time they first met. Erik was imprisoned in '63, so he's probably rounding down to either the year he spent on his own or the six months he spent with Charles after coming to America for the second time. (As far as Charles knows, Erik didn't leave the general DC area the first time, though Charles has never asked for too many details on the three weeks he spent hunting a lead in the nation's capital, bumping into a friend from his childhood, and taking her to bed. Magda herself has filled in some of the details, Wanda and Pietro others. Erik is universally mum on the topic.)
"Is it a place?" Charles asks casually.
"Be quiet," Erik says, and Charles sighs and leans back in the seat again. He'll give Erik fifteen more minutes, then he'll read the answer off of him so they can get on with it and Charles can get himself into a decent bed.
"Yes, wait--this way!" Erik says after exactly twelve minutes have passed. He makes a sharp left and Charles holds onto the door to steady himself, and soon they're driving down a shabby street that looks somehow familiar.
"Where are we?" Charles asks, but Erik's manic grin is back and he doesn't respond, taking one turn after another after another until he pulls to a stop in front of an old bar and a shabby looking community garden. Charles squints at it for a moment, and then closes his eyes and sees it exactly as it was--still shabby, but greener, with a bench in the front. It was tended to, then, and not filled with trash. And the two of them sat on that bench after being turned down by the young woman who waited tables in the bar and could shoot water from the tips of her fingers. It was late, and while they sat there, laughing, half-drunk and far too cheerful for the hour, Erik leaned over and kissed him.
It wasn't their first kiss. They'd been sleeping together since Boston, nearly a week prior. But it was the first kiss in front of the wider world, somewhere other than behind their closed bedroom door. It was really the first time either of them had acknowledged their budding romance at all. Charles remembers feeling warm down to his toes and ecstatically happy that he had managed to find such a brilliant, handsome man to join him on this quest, that the first other mutant he and Raven found was someone Charles thought he might be falling in love with.
It was the first night that he thought about the future past the mission they were training for. He thought about the school he wanted to start and the life he wanted to lead and the people he wanted to help. He imagined Erik there with him, his partner in all things.
Charles opens his eyes.
It may have taken them a few tries to get it right, but here they are at the same bench, sixty some-odd years later, their dreams eventually realized and fulfilled. He has his school, his life, and he has Erik with him, too.
He turns to Erik, who's smiling smugly.
"They say I'm the sentimental one," Charles says. He can't stop the smile spreading across his face.
"Yes, well, they think I'm a tyrant and they're not very imaginative," Erik says. He gestures to the bench. "This very spot, all those years ago. I sat there with you and you were laughing about--some crass joke you had made. I don't even remember what it was. You did that all the time, you know--laughed at your own terrible jokes. And I watched you and thought, 'Maybe I don't need to lose my own life to take Schmidt's. Maybe there are reasons to keep going.' I had never thought that before. I had never spent a single second thinking about what would come next until that moment. It terrified me, but it felt like everything made sense for the first time in so long. That I had a purpose. So I kissed you."
"I remember," Charles says. He reaches across the center console and takes one of Erik's hands, squeezing it. "You're a romantic old fool--mad as well. We could have come in the daylight, you know. You could have told me and I could have helped you look it up on a map."
"I was being spontaneous," Erik says, and Charles pulls him closer and kisses him.
"I love you," he says, because he doesn't know that he's said it yet today. "I'm glad we came."
Erik smiles slowly.
"I love you too, for all your nagging and impatience," he says. Charles brushes his hair off of his forehead and hmphs, trying hard not to smile.
"I don't nag and I'm not impatient," he says.
"In sixty years you've matured in many ways, dear," Erik says. "Patience is not one of them. At least, not when it comes to me."
"Come now," Charles says. "I waited a very long time for you to walk back into my life, after all."
Erik's expression turns serious again. He takes one of Charles' hands and raises it to his lips. He presses a dry kiss to the back of it and doesn't let go.
"You did," he admits. "And I am forever grateful."
Erik did his own share of waiting, of course, the bulk of it in solitary confinement, but all of that--the prison, the waiting, the quiet resentment in the years after--is in the distant past, now. In this moment, Charles is unbothered by the road bumps in their history, as is Erik, who drops Charles' hand and turns the car back on.
"It has been quite a rewarding sixty years," he says. "But we should be going forward, not backward."
"Yes, but this was a pleasant diversion nonetheless," Charles says. "I'm not ungrateful for the reminiscence. It's good to remember where we came from."
Erik hums in reply.
"It's better," Charles continues. "To direct ourselves where we're going. Hopefully somewhere with a bed?"
Erik laughs and shakes his head.
"Sixty years ago, that would have been an innuendo. You would have been holding yourself back from ravishing me, pulling me into bed with you," he says.
"Sixty years ago we were both far more limber," Charles says. "But I would still, of course, like to pull you into bed with me." He always sleeps better when Erik is beside him. "And in the morning, who knows? We have plenty of time before the conference starts for a quick ravishment."
Erik chuckles and reverses the car back down the side street, then does a k-turn back out onto the road.
Then he slows and frowns.
Charles sighs.
"Don't tell me you're lost," he says.
"I'm never lost," Erik insists, but the expression on his face begs to differ.
"You're an old fool," Charles says, but not without affection, as he pulls out his phone and turns on the GPS.
*
ficlet february!
Get some sleep
Five minutes away
Faint recognition
Half an hour before sunrise
Useless, but beautiful
Something’s broken
Surprise celebration
There were signs and signals
Rituals
Write about a postcard
What are you looking for?
You remind me of someone
A meeting, a beginning
Lasting impression
Long drive
Behind closed doors
Ask questions later
Six impossible things
Day off
Lost in a city
A door key
A late night phone call
Someone else’s mortification
Something from music
Something from a picture