Fic: Not Wrecked with the Day's Work | XMFC | Charles/Erik | PG | 1/1
Title: Not Wrecked with the Day's Work
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,420
Prompt: This prompt at the kink meme: essentially, Charles falls asleep on Erik while they're waiting for a bus on their mutant-recruiting road trip.
Summary: Erik hasn't ever had anyone actually fall asleep on him before.
Disclaimer: Marvel owns everything. I own nothing. Darnit.
Author's Notes: My first officially finished fic in the fandom! \O/ Originally posted over here with the prompt. Also, no, DC fandom, I'm not cheating on you, I swear. I'm just... broadening my horizons. ^_~
Not Wrecked with the Day's Work
At half-past seven it's pouring rain, the damn bus is twenty minutes late and counting, and Charles and Erik are stuck waiting beneath a broad overhang on a set of metal benches that claim to be a bus stop on a back road in downtown Toledo. If it doesn't qualify as a set-up for an old Bogart flick-buzzing, dingy fluorescent spotlights and all-Erik doesn't know what would.
Worse, Charles is fighting a headache that there just isn't anything to be done for, considering its source.
“We can still get a hotel room,” Erik suggests, watching Charles scrub at his eyes with the heels of his hands, leaned over in pain. “It's just two blocks up.”
Lifting his head to look him in the eye, Charles just shakes his head minutely. “No, I just want to get on the bus to head back. The sooner we're out of her vicinity, the better.”
Erik presses his lips together to bite back a retort, resolutely not thinking of telling Charles that the trip was his idea, and nods, silently noting the dark circles that have formed beneath Charles's eyes.
Truth be told, though, it was Charles's idea to come to Ohio to try to recruit the young woman with the persuasive voice and hypnotic eyes. He was like a child at the holidays when he discovered her, his face lit up with excitement to meet another mutant with abilities somewhat related to his own, and how could Erik ever deny him that joy? It was simply a tragic twist that she hadn't wanted anything to do with their recruiting drive or anti-war efforts, and had turned her abilities on them to get them to leave. Charles had done his best to deflect her attack, but naturally, he bore the brunt of it, and was still a wreck from it.
I know it's my own fault, Erik. Stop thinking so loudly.
Erik nearly jerks at the projected thought. “Apologies,” he mumbles, shifting forward on the cold bench to lean on his knees, hands clasped. But he knows that isn't really enough, not seeing Charles looking so... so strung out that his defenses have weakened. “I should've insisted we take our leave the moment her eyes began to glow.”
To his surprise, Charles actually laughs, straightening, his head thrown back against the cinder-block wall behind them. A long sigh, and he turns to Erik, his expression turned serious. “We are living in a world where people can bend metal, change their shape, read others' thoughts, and push suggestions on people with a voice of honey and glowing eyes, my friend. Perhaps we ought to plan these trips out a little better.”
Erik allows himself a small smile at the suggestion. “We should. And perhaps strengthen our defenses beforehand?”
“Agreed,” Charles nods with the barest dip of his head. “Now, where is that bus?”
A quick glance at his watch, and Erik confirms, “Thirty-seven minutes late, I'm afraid.” His eyes on his friend once more, he chances again, “We can still get a hotel.”
But Charles just waves his hand dismissively, appearing nearly drunk for a moment. “We've been over that. There is no way I'm spending the night with Miss Persuasion just a mile down the road. She is angry, my friend, let me tell you. She's downing the entire bottle of scotch that she had stashed away for special occasions, she's so pissed.”
His face tenses with the comment, and it's clear that he's feeling every bit of the woman's ire. It's also clear in the crease between his brows just how much he blames himself for bringing it on.
“All right,” Erik concedes gently, settling back against the bench and the wall as Charles has, his arms crossed over his chest as he turns his gaze out at the pouring rain and empty street. “We'll wait for the bus.”
“Or... I could simply purchase a car at the lot down the block,” Charles suggests, sounding more relaxed still. “They've got this gorgeous Ford Thunderbird convertible, that would be a dream to drive back to DC.”
Erik can't resist a snort of a laugh, wondering at the utter absurdity of the idea of simply buying a car to drive home. “I believe they're closed for the evening,” he says, and he can see Charles's loose nod in his peripheral vision.
“Right, right. Quite right. Damn,” Charles returns, his speech slowing. “Suppose I should've thought of that.”
“There's always next time,” Erik replies noncommittally, but when a few moments pass in silence then, he glances over to find Charles's head swaying loosely, his eyelids drooping, almost as if... as if he were drunk. And that makes entirely too much sense. The poor man has gone and gotten his mind entangled with the persuasive woman's thoughts enough that he's feeling her drunkenness. He shouldn't be surprised at all.
“Charles?” he starts, straightening himself and hoping to wake him without having to resort to forceful shaking to snap him out of it.
But Charles is suddenly leaning to the right, slowly sliding toward Erik, his head starting to loll as if he can't fight the draw of a liquor-induced coma, and Erik has no choice but to uncross his arms and draw his friend against his side, Charles's head tucking close in against his shoulder. With his arm wrapped snugly around Charles, he tenses for a moment, indecisive.
Erik hasn't ever had anyone fall into a stupor on him, or fall asleep on him, or-well, fall into a coma, yes, but that was the result of a well-placed nerve strike on top of a sound beating, and it certainly doesn't count.
This, however... Charles... it's not at all what he might've expected, had he any inclination to wonder at such a situation. His friend is warm against him, loose-finally-and pliant, rather than knotted with the tension of only a few minutes ago. In a way, he thinks, it's probably a blessing. While they could both probably use a good eighteen hours of sleep after this particular leg of their trip, Charles most assuredly needs it more than he does.
And what can Erik do, anyway? Certainly not wake the poor man up. Not unless he wants to deal with a grumpy telepath for a further twelve hours. He can't shift Charles off of him, either; even if he could easily fashion a suitable sleeping spot out of the benches, it wouldn't keep the chill off.
No... all he can do is let a sleeping man lie. Besides, it isn't as if the man is an uncomfortable burden. He hardly weighs anything at all, his slight frame gently conforming to Erik's side. And the gentle rise and fall of his chest with the shallow breaths of slumber is a comfort, a bit of proof to Erik that he's genuinely asleep, and likely-hopefully-not still attached to that woman's mind.
Slowly, Erik shifts on the bench to further accommodate Charles's sleeping form, using the bench itself to bring them into an alignment that won't be absolute murder on their backs later, even using the metal grommets on Charles's shoes to lift his legs up and settle them on the seat of the bench.
It isn't the most comfortable position in the world, not a nap on a luxurious bed by any stretch of the imagination, but it'll do. He'll keep watch over his friend as long as he needs to, and then some, let him get some of the long rest he deserves after such a disastrous recruiting effort, hold off the cold of the wet autumn night with the circle of his arms.
And... Erik can't deny that Charles's face is a thing of beauty when not wrecked with the day's work. With his free hand, he reaches up to swipe Charles's hair back from his forehead with a gentle rake of fingers, then smooth out that little crease that tends to cling to his brow with the soft press of his thumb. It's a relief to see him finally at rest, and Erik finds himself drawn downward to him. A quick graze of lips over the crown of Charles's head in a kiss that might only barely qualify as such, his friend's hair smelling faintly of rain and shampoo, and Erik hopes the bus won't arrive for quite a while, yet.
~*~*~*~
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,420
Prompt: This prompt at the kink meme: essentially, Charles falls asleep on Erik while they're waiting for a bus on their mutant-recruiting road trip.
Summary: Erik hasn't ever had anyone actually fall asleep on him before.
Disclaimer: Marvel owns everything. I own nothing. Darnit.
Author's Notes: My first officially finished fic in the fandom! \O/ Originally posted over here with the prompt. Also, no, DC fandom, I'm not cheating on you, I swear. I'm just... broadening my horizons. ^_~
Not Wrecked with the Day's Work
At half-past seven it's pouring rain, the damn bus is twenty minutes late and counting, and Charles and Erik are stuck waiting beneath a broad overhang on a set of metal benches that claim to be a bus stop on a back road in downtown Toledo. If it doesn't qualify as a set-up for an old Bogart flick-buzzing, dingy fluorescent spotlights and all-Erik doesn't know what would.
Worse, Charles is fighting a headache that there just isn't anything to be done for, considering its source.
“We can still get a hotel room,” Erik suggests, watching Charles scrub at his eyes with the heels of his hands, leaned over in pain. “It's just two blocks up.”
Lifting his head to look him in the eye, Charles just shakes his head minutely. “No, I just want to get on the bus to head back. The sooner we're out of her vicinity, the better.”
Erik presses his lips together to bite back a retort, resolutely not thinking of telling Charles that the trip was his idea, and nods, silently noting the dark circles that have formed beneath Charles's eyes.
Truth be told, though, it was Charles's idea to come to Ohio to try to recruit the young woman with the persuasive voice and hypnotic eyes. He was like a child at the holidays when he discovered her, his face lit up with excitement to meet another mutant with abilities somewhat related to his own, and how could Erik ever deny him that joy? It was simply a tragic twist that she hadn't wanted anything to do with their recruiting drive or anti-war efforts, and had turned her abilities on them to get them to leave. Charles had done his best to deflect her attack, but naturally, he bore the brunt of it, and was still a wreck from it.
I know it's my own fault, Erik. Stop thinking so loudly.
Erik nearly jerks at the projected thought. “Apologies,” he mumbles, shifting forward on the cold bench to lean on his knees, hands clasped. But he knows that isn't really enough, not seeing Charles looking so... so strung out that his defenses have weakened. “I should've insisted we take our leave the moment her eyes began to glow.”
To his surprise, Charles actually laughs, straightening, his head thrown back against the cinder-block wall behind them. A long sigh, and he turns to Erik, his expression turned serious. “We are living in a world where people can bend metal, change their shape, read others' thoughts, and push suggestions on people with a voice of honey and glowing eyes, my friend. Perhaps we ought to plan these trips out a little better.”
Erik allows himself a small smile at the suggestion. “We should. And perhaps strengthen our defenses beforehand?”
“Agreed,” Charles nods with the barest dip of his head. “Now, where is that bus?”
A quick glance at his watch, and Erik confirms, “Thirty-seven minutes late, I'm afraid.” His eyes on his friend once more, he chances again, “We can still get a hotel.”
But Charles just waves his hand dismissively, appearing nearly drunk for a moment. “We've been over that. There is no way I'm spending the night with Miss Persuasion just a mile down the road. She is angry, my friend, let me tell you. She's downing the entire bottle of scotch that she had stashed away for special occasions, she's so pissed.”
His face tenses with the comment, and it's clear that he's feeling every bit of the woman's ire. It's also clear in the crease between his brows just how much he blames himself for bringing it on.
“All right,” Erik concedes gently, settling back against the bench and the wall as Charles has, his arms crossed over his chest as he turns his gaze out at the pouring rain and empty street. “We'll wait for the bus.”
“Or... I could simply purchase a car at the lot down the block,” Charles suggests, sounding more relaxed still. “They've got this gorgeous Ford Thunderbird convertible, that would be a dream to drive back to DC.”
Erik can't resist a snort of a laugh, wondering at the utter absurdity of the idea of simply buying a car to drive home. “I believe they're closed for the evening,” he says, and he can see Charles's loose nod in his peripheral vision.
“Right, right. Quite right. Damn,” Charles returns, his speech slowing. “Suppose I should've thought of that.”
“There's always next time,” Erik replies noncommittally, but when a few moments pass in silence then, he glances over to find Charles's head swaying loosely, his eyelids drooping, almost as if... as if he were drunk. And that makes entirely too much sense. The poor man has gone and gotten his mind entangled with the persuasive woman's thoughts enough that he's feeling her drunkenness. He shouldn't be surprised at all.
“Charles?” he starts, straightening himself and hoping to wake him without having to resort to forceful shaking to snap him out of it.
But Charles is suddenly leaning to the right, slowly sliding toward Erik, his head starting to loll as if he can't fight the draw of a liquor-induced coma, and Erik has no choice but to uncross his arms and draw his friend against his side, Charles's head tucking close in against his shoulder. With his arm wrapped snugly around Charles, he tenses for a moment, indecisive.
Erik hasn't ever had anyone fall into a stupor on him, or fall asleep on him, or-well, fall into a coma, yes, but that was the result of a well-placed nerve strike on top of a sound beating, and it certainly doesn't count.
This, however... Charles... it's not at all what he might've expected, had he any inclination to wonder at such a situation. His friend is warm against him, loose-finally-and pliant, rather than knotted with the tension of only a few minutes ago. In a way, he thinks, it's probably a blessing. While they could both probably use a good eighteen hours of sleep after this particular leg of their trip, Charles most assuredly needs it more than he does.
And what can Erik do, anyway? Certainly not wake the poor man up. Not unless he wants to deal with a grumpy telepath for a further twelve hours. He can't shift Charles off of him, either; even if he could easily fashion a suitable sleeping spot out of the benches, it wouldn't keep the chill off.
No... all he can do is let a sleeping man lie. Besides, it isn't as if the man is an uncomfortable burden. He hardly weighs anything at all, his slight frame gently conforming to Erik's side. And the gentle rise and fall of his chest with the shallow breaths of slumber is a comfort, a bit of proof to Erik that he's genuinely asleep, and likely-hopefully-not still attached to that woman's mind.
Slowly, Erik shifts on the bench to further accommodate Charles's sleeping form, using the bench itself to bring them into an alignment that won't be absolute murder on their backs later, even using the metal grommets on Charles's shoes to lift his legs up and settle them on the seat of the bench.
It isn't the most comfortable position in the world, not a nap on a luxurious bed by any stretch of the imagination, but it'll do. He'll keep watch over his friend as long as he needs to, and then some, let him get some of the long rest he deserves after such a disastrous recruiting effort, hold off the cold of the wet autumn night with the circle of his arms.
And... Erik can't deny that Charles's face is a thing of beauty when not wrecked with the day's work. With his free hand, he reaches up to swipe Charles's hair back from his forehead with a gentle rake of fingers, then smooth out that little crease that tends to cling to his brow with the soft press of his thumb. It's a relief to see him finally at rest, and Erik finds himself drawn downward to him. A quick graze of lips over the crown of Charles's head in a kiss that might only barely qualify as such, his friend's hair smelling faintly of rain and shampoo, and Erik hopes the bus won't arrive for quite a while, yet.
~*~*~*~