[ As Erik moves Charles leans back, resting into his chair again to allow him some space. He's as handsome as Charles could ever remember; and Charles is a bit abashed at himself for even thinking it. Still, at any moment he was able he liked to memorize the lines of his face, recall the differences-- if there were any. He wishes he had expected a visit, he would have adorned something other than an well worn blue sweater that, while very soft, was a tad old looking. Of course this is forgotten, for the most part, when Erik lowers against him and he can feel his heart skip a beat.
Arms ease upward and gingerly make their way around him, as if afraid anything too much will make him leave. He's never sure of himself with Erik like he used to be; but he also used to believe that he would never leave and he had been so blindly wrong about that. A gentle squeeze as he turns his head just enough so that he could speak quietly to Erik, ] I've missed you. [ No pretense to be had, he was never sure how long he could keep him-- and he would hate to waste what little time they had. ]
[ His cheekbone digs a little into the other man's stomach, and he's been so long without this connection that they have-- the most basic of it; the physical contact that had once become such a second nature reaction to the two of them; he's found himself actively missing the quiet familiarity that they had-- Charles' hand on his arm, or shoulder. Fingers knotting in the wool of the sweater, Erik breathes in the musty, bookish smell of him-- faintly of soap and of washing powder. ] And I've missed you too. [ There's a pause-- and honestly, if they ever had time for sentimentality, it was now. ] Constantly.
[ Arms winding around the other man's waist, Erik exhales slowly. ] If I could, I'd come back more often. [ But there's never enough time, not for them-- he doesn't believe that there ever will be either. ]
[ He tenses his jaw to keep back whatever noise tried to break free at the admission, instead turning his head just a tad more to press a light kiss near his hairline. ] I understand. [ He wishes, in some respects, he didn't-- but in the end he wouldn't trade it for anything. ]
I know. [ It's soft and soothing, meant to be some sort of reassurance that he didn't doubt Erik's feelings, at least. His hand eases up from his arm to rest at the back of his neck, fingers curling and brushing against the skin soothingly. ] I'm just glad for when you do come.
You do. [ Of course-- they're both so trapped in this doomed codependent state of affairs; Erik cannot function for losing Charles permanently, and he imagines that the other is in a similar predicament; he's always welcomed back, at least-- and after all this time that does say something. The tips of his fingers draw circles against Charles' back-- carefully positioned above that swathe that the bullet cut, above the line that marks the beginning of the damage. ]
There still isn't much that I can do to change this, or to give us more time. [ His head tilts up, pulling back just barely enough to meet the other man's eyes, but not to disrupt that hand on the nape of his neck. Erik leans into it. ] How have you been? [ And the look on his face-- the line between his eyebrows-- is enough to show he's been concerned. ]
I'm not asking you to do anything, Erik. [ His words are hinged with an inner longing, he wanted so much more for the both of them but he knew that to ask that-- of either of them, would be cruel. He would never push Erik to change, perhaps in the misguided hope that Erik would come back of his own volition. However, at this point, even he knew how childish it was to think such things. It pained him to acknowledge how awry he had let his dreams go; he couldn't blame Erik because he blamed himself. ]
I've been... alright. [ He sweeps his hand through the soft, familiar strands of hair. The smell of having him so close making his heart thud a bit harder in his chest. ] The children have been keeping me as busy as they can mange. [ Lonely, longing, but busy-- busier than he had ever been because it was so much easier to throw himself into his work. ] And, how have you been?
You're not asking me, no--[ He trails off, because the underlying thread between them and the entire meeting is a dangerous one for him; while Charles may not have asked him to come back-- not directly, it's still there; the hope, more-so than the expectation.]
[ Erik cants his head to the side, leaning further into the touch-- the one corner of his mouth tilting upwards and breaking the solemnly miserable expression he'd been sporting since he'd set foot inside the Westchester House's gates with Azazel earlier that evening. The small pause between Charles' words catch his attention, but he honestly does not need to voice the recognition of it; he knows their shared difficulty, all too well. ] Much the same. Busy, too-- we've acquired several new recruits lately; and there are socials to attend in order to keep up appearances at the club, of course. [ Removing his hands from around Charles, he pulls away-- getting to his feet, and giving the telepath that same old searching look-- snow flurries into the room from the open window, which shuts abruptly by itself. ] We should sit by the fire, it's cold in here.
How eventful, [ Is the simple response, devoid of anything deeper because he doesn't know how to feel about Erik's words. He wants to be happy for him, happy for anything he can do or accomplish, but he can't help the hollow feeling that comes with it-- the distance it creates. Each success for the Hellfire Club doesn't feel like a step closer together, not to Charles, as much as he wished it would. He keeps these things, these thoughts, like many others to himself. Instead he gives a soft nod and lowers his hands to the sides of the chair, dislodging the small lever of a break and gripping the wheels. ] I suppose your right.
[ Truth be told he had welcomed the cold, letting it sting the places he could still feel it-- but there's no fight, no resistance, he wanted to go wherever they would both be most comfortable. ] Snow is no fun to clean from the floors anyhow. [ A delicate attempt at humor, but his heart really isn't in it, not now. He pushes down on the wheels with a bit of effort and maneuvers himself around a table expecting Erik to follow. ]
Hmm. [ Part agreement and part dismissal-- he's not here to talk about Shaw's legacy; and all he's done to accelerate that legacy into another creature entirely. ]
It would do you well not to make yourself ill. [ As he walks past the other man, and into the small space around the fire; a well worn armchair and sofa angled towards it-- when he passes, and it's either a genuine slip up, or a conscious bid at bridging an element of the distance, the back of Erik's fingers brush against the telepath's neck. He says nothing, and sits on the couch-- unsure if Charles will join him; the other man tended to be a touch uncomfortable with the disability-- even after two years passing. Erik stretches a foot out towards the fire. ] I have-- longer than usual this time, you know. Away from the Brotherhood. The weekend.
[ He halts, if only for a moment, at the touch feeling the light sensation cause an ache down to his bones. He recovers quickly, and smiles just a tad when he feels the warmth of the fire tickling his face. Heating it and letting some of the color return to his skin-- he hadn't realized how cold he had let himself get till he was warming back up. ] Cold doesn't make you ill, at least not usually, just germs. [ He murmurs in an absent habit of correcting the children; not condescending just... mechanical. He angles the chair near an open space on the couch and seems to be consciously debating on joining him. It was always a little awkward, to have someone watch you strain and struggle to move what was once so easy-- but he was as stubborn as ever. He wasn't going to sit in his cold, metal chair and enviously eye Erik on the couch like some sort of puppy too short to hop on the cushions. Instead he lodges the break into place like he had before and using far better practiced-- if still not effortless-- movements to transfer himself from one seat to the other. A small, self-satisfied smile coming after when he leans into the cushion. ]
Are you going to stay? [ Charles hoped, but refused to let himself assume, that Erik would-- he had let his hopes get far too ahead of him once, and as if the tips of his fingers had been burned he refused to extend them that far again. ]
[ He does not move to help Charles from the chair onto the couch-- instead watching his progress with a steady gaze; a mixture of responsibility and guilt warring on his features. He'll never quite be used to the idea that Charles cannot simply stand from the chair and walk over to him-- the image is too ingratiated into his mind; too familiar; and for it to be contradicted here is still uncomfortable to him. Once the telepath is settled, he chances closer-- arm resting on the back of the couch, brushing against the collar of Charles' sweater-- even the fabric itself has picked up the chill from the wind outside. ] If you'll have me-- I'll stay. [ Fingertips settle against the telepath's neck, consciously this time-- and it's a tender gesture; more like the way they used to be, than what they had now. Both a touch bitter, possibly. ]
[ Erik shifts even closer-- still not enough to encroach on Charles' space, but it's no longer a platonic distance; there's always been a certain lack of ambiguity in Erik's gestures; though subtle, they are unmistakably laced with genuine attachment. At the touch of the other's skin, his hand settles against Charles' neck entirely--] You're cold, [ He murmurs-- swallowing the hoarse edge in his voice. ]
Of course I'll have you. [ His tone makes it sound as if that should be the most obvious thing in the world to Erik. And perhaps, in some ways, he thinks it should be. Charles had never turned him away before; he hadn't a clue why the man might think he would now. He turns his head, and some of his torso, mostly so he can get a good look at him-- or as much as the light of the fire would allow. He's changed so much and yet so very little, it's almost surreal in its complexity.
Erik's fingertips burn at the back of his neck, warm skin contrasting cold; like the fire it's almost too hot, and yet he doesn't move away, he welcomes the contact. He doesn't get much of it, not anymore, besides the occasional hand on his shoulder-- everyone's so afraid he's going to break; but if anything Charles just finds it resentful. He was wounded not ruined. He has to draw his thoughts in, because now was not the time nor the place to allow himself to become embittered; he wanted to enjoy the small gift of time. ] I left the window open far too long, got lost in my thoughts-- I'm sure you understand.
Then, I’ll stay. It’ll probably be for the best if no one knows-- I realize that I’m not your students’ most welcomed visitor; particularly after the recent clashes. [ And there have been clashes. Incidents-- between the Brotherhood mutants and those of the Xavier Academy-- usually involving the humans that Charles appears so keen to protect; nothing of much great consequence, but enough to cause a significant friction between the idealistically differing parties. But Erik is not here to debate politics-- after so much time, he’s learnt to reign in the philosophical debates. ]
Hmm, you did. [ Erik moves closer again, dropping his hand from Charles’ shoulder and sliding it down his spine-- more of their old intimacy in the gesture, and finally he’s right beside the telepath; other arm in its characteristic position around his waist; still under the pretence of keeping him warm-- something self-deprecating in his face, an edge of mingled concern and defeat. It always came back to this for him-- he could not, in anyway, escape the gravity of this connection that trapped them both. Charles is a deeply grounding force, centring him even now. He turns his head, nose grazing the other’s cheek. ] And, I do understand. Though, at least for my sake, remember to look after yourself. It would worry Raven to no end if you were ill.
No, that's true. [ The students who, despite all their open hearts and minds could not understand his kinship with Erik. Could not understand why Charles refused to use force-- they wanted what was best, but it was easy when one didn't have to face the ethical and moral repercussions of the choices made. He couldn't force Erik, he couldn't change him, not like that-- he'd never forgive himself; even if it all ended well. ] They're young, far too young for this. [ He always thought that, no matter their age, because he found he could never think of someone as the proper age for battle-- for aggression, for risking their lives-- it was only out of necessity for the safety of the students (and the humans) that Charles had come to allow some of the older students to return to combat. ] Perhaps smarter than I am, though. [ A humorless smile crosses his lips, unsure of how wise their continued private meetings were, but unable to resist them nonetheless.
He can spot, with painful ease, the point on his back where he can no longer feel Erik's hand till it begins to move upward again. It's a odd sensation, as if the lower half of his body was becoming foreign to him; a dead weight that used to offer him so many opportunities. He often didn't realize how much he would miss something till it was gone; and he had learned this lesson the hard way, time and time again. ] Of course. [ A light nod, his eyes drawn toward Erik's own, watching with a light flicker, as if trying to read his expression since he kept himself out of his mind. ] I'll be more careful.
Everything I have done-- has been done to protect you. [ It's a fervent admission of love, as well as a curse-- the smallest hint of angry condemnation behind it, because he's done what was needed, and what others feared to do-- he's defending the one person he cannot stand to lose; the irony there being that in doing so, he's pushed him away with his own hands. ] But we've been over this, again and again and we still do not agree-- so it's best left alone. Charles-- [ Erik's fingers knot in the wool of the other's sweater, and it takes him a moment-- eyes flickering over the other's blue ones, something going out of him then, replaced with warmth. He does not have it in him this evening to maintain any kind of combative edge, in truth, he lives as much for their meetings as Charles does. ] I won't stop visiting, as long as you allow me in the window. [ It's not without humor either, but like Charles, he can't quite muster the enthusiasm to joke. ] And Charles, if you ever were ill-- or something happened, I'd want to know.
[ When he leans forward to press his mouth to the other man's, it's chaste but lingering-- a slow reminder of the better days, and the touch is something of a benediction; their few, sanctified meetings are always hinged on bitterness. But he'd never stay away, nor stray so far that he cannot come back like he promised years ago in the hospital room. This last separation had endured for far too long; he had not been able to get away from the Hellfire club for five or so months, and each day had grated at him. ] I'm sorry I couldn't see you sooner. [ His voice is low, chest against the other man's side-- he speaks against his ear. ]
I know that Erik. [ His tone isn't argumentative, not this time; he's come to a simple understanding that they were both so terribly stuck in their ways; and it was out of love and not selfishness that causes such a violent refusal to budge. His smile is softer but no less sincere, glad that the slowly rising tone had died out. If it became an argument, now, he probably wouldn't have been able to stand it. It's been far too long and that ache in his chest had grown far too wide. ] Of course I'll always let you in, Erik. This is your home. [ Regardless how far he decided to venture, or the places he decided to live, Charles would always think of it as Erik's home, Raven's home, as much as it was his own. To do otherwise-- he refused to think about that. ]
I understand, time is... precious. [ He can hardly fault Erik when he hadn't made any ventures across the country to see him-- while that may have been more difficult in his position it was still possible. He was grateful to say the least. The little kiss earns him more of a smile and Charles leans up the best he can to return the kiss, to keep it going even when Erik is pulling back till it becomes a strain and he settles back into the couch plaintively.
One hand sliding across his own numbed thigh to Erik's, searching for his hand in an attempt to intertwine their fingers. ]
This place is not my home, Charles; but as long as you're here-- this is where I'll come back to. [ He reacts instantly, covering Charles' hand with his own and lacing their fingers together-- and reaching to the telepath, he pulls him close-- allowing him to rest upright against his chest; still conscious of how cold the tips of Charles' fingers are-- and those elegantly made bones; so much more prominent now than they ever were when he had first come to the mansion.
Erik's head drops down, nose pressing softly into the other's shoulder, and it is like a final bridge between them.] It is. I would visit you far more frequently if it was in my power-- but for now we've got the weekend, at the very least.
I hope none of yours were hurt in the last confrontation. It was not my intention to harm your students, but I had no choice. [ It is not easy to go from the two opposing leaders, back into their old dynamic-- the affection is always there, just beneath the surface for him, but he has to pack away the angry accusations, your damn X-Men, and attempt to think of Charles-- chair-bound and having been abandoned by him. Erik bends to the other man's warmth, crowding into the achingly familiar form-- because he won't ever get over this; he doesn't want to. Leaning in, he kisses him again-- less chaste, and firmly, almost an apology. ]
Arms ease upward and gingerly make their way around him, as if afraid anything too much will make him leave. He's never sure of himself with Erik like he used to be; but he also used to believe that he would never leave and he had been so blindly wrong about that. A gentle squeeze as he turns his head just enough so that he could speak quietly to Erik, ] I've missed you. [ No pretense to be had, he was never sure how long he could keep him-- and he would hate to waste what little time they had. ]
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[ Arms winding around the other man's waist, Erik exhales slowly. ] If I could, I'd come back more often. [ But there's never enough time, not for them-- he doesn't believe that there ever will be either. ]
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I know. [ It's soft and soothing, meant to be some sort of reassurance that he didn't doubt Erik's feelings, at least. His hand eases up from his arm to rest at the back of his neck, fingers curling and brushing against the skin soothingly. ] I'm just glad for when you do come.
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There still isn't much that I can do to change this, or to give us more time. [ His head tilts up, pulling back just barely enough to meet the other man's eyes, but not to disrupt that hand on the nape of his neck. Erik leans into it. ] How have you been? [ And the look on his face-- the line between his eyebrows-- is enough to show he's been concerned. ]
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I've been... alright. [ He sweeps his hand through the soft, familiar strands of hair. The smell of having him so close making his heart thud a bit harder in his chest. ] The children have been keeping me as busy as they can mange. [ Lonely, longing, but busy-- busier than he had ever been because it was so much easier to throw himself into his work. ] And, how have you been?
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[ Erik cants his head to the side, leaning further into the touch-- the one corner of his mouth tilting upwards and breaking the solemnly miserable expression he'd been sporting since he'd set foot inside the Westchester House's gates with Azazel earlier that evening. The small pause between Charles' words catch his attention, but he honestly does not need to voice the recognition of it; he knows their shared difficulty, all too well. ] Much the same. Busy, too-- we've acquired several new recruits lately; and there are socials to attend in order to keep up appearances at the club, of course. [ Removing his hands from around Charles, he pulls away-- getting to his feet, and giving the telepath that same old searching look-- snow flurries into the room from the open window, which shuts abruptly by itself. ] We should sit by the fire, it's cold in here.
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[ Truth be told he had welcomed the cold, letting it sting the places he could still feel it-- but there's no fight, no resistance, he wanted to go wherever they would both be most comfortable. ] Snow is no fun to clean from the floors anyhow. [ A delicate attempt at humor, but his heart really isn't in it, not now. He pushes down on the wheels with a bit of effort and maneuvers himself around a table expecting Erik to follow. ]
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It would do you well not to make yourself ill. [ As he walks past the other man, and into the small space around the fire; a well worn armchair and sofa angled towards it-- when he passes, and it's either a genuine slip up, or a conscious bid at bridging an element of the distance, the back of Erik's fingers brush against the telepath's neck. He says nothing, and sits on the couch-- unsure if Charles will join him; the other man tended to be a touch uncomfortable with the disability-- even after two years passing. Erik stretches a foot out towards the fire. ] I have-- longer than usual this time, you know. Away from the Brotherhood. The weekend.
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Are you going to stay? [ Charles hoped, but refused to let himself assume, that Erik would-- he had let his hopes get far too ahead of him once, and as if the tips of his fingers had been burned he refused to extend them that far again. ]
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[ Erik shifts even closer-- still not enough to encroach on Charles' space, but it's no longer a platonic distance; there's always been a certain lack of ambiguity in Erik's gestures; though subtle, they are unmistakably laced with genuine attachment. At the touch of the other's skin, his hand settles against Charles' neck entirely--] You're cold, [ He murmurs-- swallowing the hoarse edge in his voice. ]
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Erik's fingertips burn at the back of his neck, warm skin contrasting cold; like the fire it's almost too hot, and yet he doesn't move away, he welcomes the contact. He doesn't get much of it, not anymore, besides the occasional hand on his shoulder-- everyone's so afraid he's going to break; but if anything Charles just finds it resentful. He was wounded not ruined. He has to draw his thoughts in, because now was not the time nor the place to allow himself to become embittered; he wanted to enjoy the small gift of time. ] I left the window open far too long, got lost in my thoughts-- I'm sure you understand.
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Hmm, you did. [ Erik moves closer again, dropping his hand from Charles’ shoulder and sliding it down his spine-- more of their old intimacy in the gesture, and finally he’s right beside the telepath; other arm in its characteristic position around his waist; still under the pretence of keeping him warm-- something self-deprecating in his face, an edge of mingled concern and defeat. It always came back to this for him-- he could not, in anyway, escape the gravity of this connection that trapped them both. Charles is a deeply grounding force, centring him even now. He turns his head, nose grazing the other’s cheek. ] And, I do understand. Though, at least for my sake, remember to look after yourself. It would worry Raven to no end if you were ill.
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He can spot, with painful ease, the point on his back where he can no longer feel Erik's hand till it begins to move upward again. It's a odd sensation, as if the lower half of his body was becoming foreign to him; a dead weight that used to offer him so many opportunities. He often didn't realize how much he would miss something till it was gone; and he had learned this lesson the hard way, time and time again. ] Of course. [ A light nod, his eyes drawn toward Erik's own, watching with a light flicker, as if trying to read his expression since he kept himself out of his mind. ] I'll be more careful.
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[ When he leans forward to press his mouth to the other man's, it's chaste but lingering-- a slow reminder of the better days, and the touch is something of a benediction; their few, sanctified meetings are always hinged on bitterness. But he'd never stay away, nor stray so far that he cannot come back like he promised years ago in the hospital room. This last separation had endured for far too long; he had not been able to get away from the Hellfire club for five or so months, and each day had grated at him. ] I'm sorry I couldn't see you sooner. [ His voice is low, chest against the other man's side-- he speaks against his ear. ]
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I understand, time is... precious. [ He can hardly fault Erik when he hadn't made any ventures across the country to see him-- while that may have been more difficult in his position it was still possible. He was grateful to say the least. The little kiss earns him more of a smile and Charles leans up the best he can to return the kiss, to keep it going even when Erik is pulling back till it becomes a strain and he settles back into the couch plaintively.
One hand sliding across his own numbed thigh to Erik's, searching for his hand in an attempt to intertwine their fingers. ]
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Erik's head drops down, nose pressing softly into the other's shoulder, and it is like a final bridge between them.] It is. I would visit you far more frequently if it was in my power-- but for now we've got the weekend, at the very least.
I hope none of yours were hurt in the last confrontation. It was not my intention to harm your students, but I had no choice. [ It is not easy to go from the two opposing leaders, back into their old dynamic-- the affection is always there, just beneath the surface for him, but he has to pack away the angry accusations, your damn X-Men, and attempt to think of Charles-- chair-bound and having been abandoned by him. Erik bends to the other man's warmth, crowding into the achingly familiar form-- because he won't ever get over this; he doesn't want to. Leaning in, he kisses him again-- less chaste, and firmly, almost an apology. ]
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