No. Usually there is no choice, particularly in the face of a war. Certain things become sidelined for that. [ Erik moves backwards and watches Charles' face for a pointed second-- before breathing out a long breath; not quite a sigh, but still audible. He stops any sort of bite of a retaliation, and it's easy enough-- he honestly does not want tension between them; they have enough of it in the past to cover for that. ]
Yes, she did. Raven and I both did. [ Not able to keep any kind of real distance from the telepath, he shifts to slide his arms around him again, chin ducking down so that it's tucked against Charles' neck, a warm cloud of breath brushing against the skin. The familiar weight is vastly sobering, and Erik's eyes drift shut with the ache of knowing that come monday, he'll have to face another separation. He speaks quietly, hushed to a whisper by their intimate proximity. ]
Neither could I, and it's why I come back. But it's-- in a way, Charles, it's not-- fair on you; to keep you waiting with months between, and-- I can't help but return to you, because-- well, you know why.
[ He can feel the soft, growing bubble of fear when Erik pulls back-- wondering if he's finally stepped over that line and ruined their evening. He manages to take a few quiet breaths and stares, unable to find any words to soothe the situation when he feared all of this would just make it worse. It wasn't till Erik leaned back in that he felt the heavy thudding in his chest ease. He had to wonder sometimes what was so terribly wrong with him; he had never really wanted to be so stubborn, perhaps even arrogant, he had just wanted to help-- but as time wore on he found himself pushed into a box of belief that he was unable to share with anyone else. The students liked his ideals but had trouble following them as closely as he did-- it was a fight not to harm, not to kill, these days. It was becoming a smaller and smaller box and Charles wasn't sure how long it would still have room for him. ]
I made my choice, Erik. [ The words are soft, pained but affectionate. Turning his head to try and press a kiss to his ear with the other mutant tucked in so close. ] Even if you stopped returning, I'd still wait for you. [ Nimble digits gently traced along his neck, curling in the short strands there. ] I don't regret it.
Well then. [ He tilts his head enough to look Charles in the eye again, feeling the tension in him from when he'd moved away, and he regrets upsetting him for a moment-- worried that the slightest movement he makes towards bringing up the semblance of a disagreement can set the man on edge; and he allows the kiss to his ear-- following it up with a brush of lips against the other's neck; nose ghosting the hollow beneath the curve of his jaw. ] I'll just have to keep coming back, won't I? I'd be here far more often if I could, Charles-- it's difficult; you understand.
[ What they've got here, opposed to the antagonism that exists outside the confines of these covert meetings-- is a conundrum for him; it poses a difficult clash of worlds; because in opposing the X-Men, he opposes Charles; and either way it's Cuba all over again. His hand strokes down the telepath's side, fingers picking at the fabric of the sweater with an absentminded idleness, and with a tired exhalation he rests his head back down on Charles' familiar shoulder.] I am sorry that it had to be this way though. It's not what I wanted, for either of us.
I understand, [ He doesn't like it, hates it on the harder days, but he always understands. They each feel a draw, to their cause, a painful one that refuses to be ignored even in the light of care and affection and family and home. Not to say his will was perfect, there were nights when he sat by the window, projecting to a man who couldn't hear him-- that he wondered what would happen if he were to give it all up. To hide away, somewhere different, live out his life as if he had never been a mutant-- he couldn't though, and he knew that; his will and his obligations, his responsibility wouldn't let him. But sometimes, on long nights, he thought it was alright to wonder.]
I know, [ He threads his fingers up through his hair and then back down, each touch radiating with the same soothing feeling he had been attempting to draw out. ] It's alright, I don't blame you.
It'll get better, eventually. [ He's not so sure about that-- because warring beliefs, no matter the good will behind them, are still warring beliefs-- and he's unsure if they'd be the same men that they are now, without their convictions. Happier, undoubtedly-- but not the same. The helmet he wears because the idea of Charles touching his thoughts, endlessly lodged in the back of his mind, seeing the cruelty up close-- is acutely disturbing to him. It's not that alone, however-- the brush of Charles' mind is a painful memento of the other's presence; an invitation to come home, and to give up on the Brotherhood-- and he's strong, but not consistently enough to be impervious to that. ]
I've missed you. [ Erik confesses, nosing into the telepath's shoulder-- far more like the man he was once, than the mutant general he's quickly becoming. ] God, Charles.
And I've missed you, so dearly. [ Another kiss, short and sweet and just above his ear. One hand departing from Erik just long enough to adjust his legs, pulling that close with his legs still angled the other direction was uncomfortable. Fingers moving back up he pushes lightly against Erik's chest so he could look him in the eye. ] I've got no one to play chess with, isn't that terrible? [ The comment is lighthearted, even when it looks like he might cry. Leaning up he steals another brief kiss before pressing his forehead to Erik's. ]
[ A hand hooks under Charles' knee to help him adjust his position-- something infinitely tender in the simple movement, though his hand doesn't linger longer than necessary; he's well aware that the gesture is not felt, physically, and he's still cautious. At the press of the other man's hand he looks up, the watery-blue of Charles' eyes holding him, and there's a grimace in response to the comment; but Erik returns the kiss, cupping the telepath's jaw with a palm before he pulls back. ] I know, my dear friend-- [ What could he possibly say to that? It's simple in the weight it carries-- a mundane thing that had become theirs entirely. He can't keep the gravity out of his voice. ] It is terrible--Charles, I am-- sorry.
[ There's an uncomfortable swallow, and he resumes his former position, reaching out to enfold the other, curling his arms around him again. ]-- and there's nothing foolish in this, Charles; it's out of our hands-- in some ways. [ It's difficult and it's tragic, but not foolish; he aches at the misery he can discern in the telepath. ]
[ He cant feel it in his legs, but he can feel the movement in his waist, but he doesn't protest or mind. Erik's touch was as welcome as it always was. ] You-- You owe me a game before you leave, at least. [ His smile shakes a little but it's still there and he throws both of his arms up this time, lacing them behind Erik's shoulders and pulling him into a firm hug. ] And you better not let me win, or I'll put you out in the snow. [ He laughs, and it's a little harsh, choked up by the crash of their emotions. ]
If there's nothing foolish, then why do I feel like such a fool?
[ He squeezes the other man securely-- pressing his nose into the crook of Charles' shoulder, and just hanging onto him for a while, hands starting to move in slow circles over his back and shoulder blades, pressing lightly against the tense muscles. There's a hunger for contact when he's around the telepath-- now more-so than ever; the need for something solid and tangible to hold fast to is ever-present. ] Of course; we've got the weekend, remember? [ Pulling back only just enough to look Charles in the eye, he smoothes back the man's hair, thumb dragging across his cheek. ]
You're not a fool, Charles-- maybe idealistic and a touch too willing to see good in people-- but that doesn't make you foolish. [ Leaning forward, he kisses him again-- hand still pressed to Charles' cheek, the gesture infused with an unmistakable warmth. ]
[ The kiss is almost sharp, and he can't tell if it makes him feel better or worse, but that's not all that unusual for him anymore. He pulls back after a second and swallows down what's left of those feelings because he can't let his sadness ruin what time they've got. A small smile and a little sigh. ]
It was never really all that simple, to begin with. [ He moves back enough to see the other man-- catching a hint of disquiet in his tone; and he can't put things right-- smooth them over, like he used to be so adept at doing after their arguments-- but he's helpless to correct this. Erik's fingers trail Charles' cheek-- touch mapping the dip and fall of his cheekbone, then jaw. It's a difficult thing to take-- the fact that alongside the longing in their reunions, the chief emotion he illicits in Charles is sadness. ]
But things will change, it'll get better eventually. [ More empty promises-- it's become near to second nature. He presses his mouth to Charles' temple, lingering against the skin. ] Alright?
It was far simpler than this. [ He turns his head toward Erik's hand, lightly pushing against his palm, easing into his touch. Another quiet laugh because he can't tell if he's just being bitter or not. He hopes not, he hopes it's just the long evening, the late night and the cold; but he's not too sure. ]
Of course. [ He just murmurs, accepting it for what it is-- hope, but little more. He hopes it will get better, change, become something they can stand to handle again-- but he knows there's no promises, really. ]
It was. I'll give you that. [ And Charles' following murmur of agreement-- which is hardly agreement, if Erik is honest with himself-- causes a lilt in his chest. If he could, he would fix what had happened on the beach-- and would prevent the accident from happening. But it's far too late now, and he's moved past being regretful. ] Tell me if I'm keeping you awake, I'm hardly going to force you to listen to me through the entire night. [ But it's not even night anymore-- though still dark outside, he's certain that it's nearly morning. He moves close again, one hand resting flat against Charles' stomach, the other hooking around his back, fingers curling and uncurling against the sweater. ]
[ He chuckles softly, ] I'd listen to you through the next day if I had the option, though sleep might be a good idea if I intend to beat you at chess. [ A whisper of a smile, a little kiss to the spot just below his ear. A light pat on the hand settled on his stomach, ] Perhaps, just a nap, it might do the both of us good. Hm?
[ A breath leaves him when Charles laughs-- just from that the air feels lighter between them; because it had been tense; disquiet, and he'd held himself uneasily-- the situation wearing at him. It's an incongruently tender move when he tucks a stray lick of hair behind the telepath's ear. ] Yes, I think it probably would. [ His hand drops, resting on Charles' knee. ]
Come here, [ He instructs-- pressing the other man's back, hand hooking beneath his knees. It's not as awkward as it had once been-- initially he'd been reluctant to help Charles; too pained by the aftermath of the accident, but no longer. He's not hesitant anymore, but still overtly serious, though he doesn't ask permission-- believing that a concession owed to him; in a respect he's remained the other man's lover-- despite being enemies. ]
[ He's a little surprised to be moved-- but he doesn't protest any. He doubted Erik would drop him and no pain remained from his wound any longer; an awkward numbness perhaps. He wanted to feel Erik's arm under his knees, his side contentedly tucked against him. ] Alright. [ Another gentle pat to his chest, pleased in a simplistic way that Erik would be staying the night-- for now he could sleep, because the man would be there when he woke. ]
Yes, she did. Raven and I both did. [ Not able to keep any kind of real distance from the telepath, he shifts to slide his arms around him again, chin ducking down so that it's tucked against Charles' neck, a warm cloud of breath brushing against the skin. The familiar weight is vastly sobering, and Erik's eyes drift shut with the ache of knowing that come monday, he'll have to face another separation. He speaks quietly, hushed to a whisper by their intimate proximity. ]
Neither could I, and it's why I come back. But it's-- in a way, Charles, it's not-- fair on you; to keep you waiting with months between, and-- I can't help but return to you, because-- well, you know why.
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I made my choice, Erik. [ The words are soft, pained but affectionate. Turning his head to try and press a kiss to his ear with the other mutant tucked in so close. ] Even if you stopped returning, I'd still wait for you. [ Nimble digits gently traced along his neck, curling in the short strands there. ] I don't regret it.
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[ What they've got here, opposed to the antagonism that exists outside the confines of these covert meetings-- is a conundrum for him; it poses a difficult clash of worlds; because in opposing the X-Men, he opposes Charles; and either way it's Cuba all over again. His hand strokes down the telepath's side, fingers picking at the fabric of the sweater with an absentminded idleness, and with a tired exhalation he rests his head back down on Charles' familiar shoulder.] I am sorry that it had to be this way though. It's not what I wanted, for either of us.
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I know, [ He threads his fingers up through his hair and then back down, each touch radiating with the same soothing feeling he had been attempting to draw out. ] It's alright, I don't blame you.
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I've missed you. [ Erik confesses, nosing into the telepath's shoulder-- far more like the man he was once, than the mutant general he's quickly becoming. ] God, Charles.
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We're really a foolish couple of men, aren't we?
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[ There's an uncomfortable swallow, and he resumes his former position, reaching out to enfold the other, curling his arms around him again. ]-- and there's nothing foolish in this, Charles; it's out of our hands-- in some ways. [ It's difficult and it's tragic, but not foolish; he aches at the misery he can discern in the telepath. ]
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If there's nothing foolish, then why do I feel like such a fool?
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You're not a fool, Charles-- maybe idealistic and a touch too willing to see good in people-- but that doesn't make you foolish. [ Leaning forward, he kisses him again-- hand still pressed to Charles' cheek, the gesture infused with an unmistakable warmth. ]
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I miss when it was simple.
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But things will change, it'll get better eventually. [ More empty promises-- it's become near to second nature. He presses his mouth to Charles' temple, lingering against the skin. ] Alright?
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Of course. [ He just murmurs, accepting it for what it is-- hope, but little more. He hopes it will get better, change, become something they can stand to handle again-- but he knows there's no promises, really. ]
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Come here, [ He instructs-- pressing the other man's back, hand hooking beneath his knees. It's not as awkward as it had once been-- initially he'd been reluctant to help Charles; too pained by the aftermath of the accident, but no longer. He's not hesitant anymore, but still overtly serious, though he doesn't ask permission-- believing that a concession owed to him; in a respect he's remained the other man's lover-- despite being enemies. ]
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