intellectual property 4/?
Title: Intellectual Property
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Erik/Charles
Warnings: Too Many Words
Disclaimer: Not Mine.
Summary: Under no circumstances is Charles allowed to paint Mr. Lehnsherr. None. Emma doesn't care how darkly seductive the man is, or how he's the first thing Charles has wanted to paint in months. This is simply not allowed.
Of course, keeping Charles away from Lehnsherr would be simpler if Charles stopped sneaking around to see him... and if it didn't look like Lehnsherr was playing for keeps.
Erik was was fairly certain that Charles was secretly trying to get him killed by Logan.
First, the artist had slept through his alarm, answering the door all warm and soft from sleep, and giving Erik a genuine smile like Charles was actually pleased to see him. Erik had to fight back the urge to toss the man over his shoulder and carry him right back up those stairs. But Charles was interesting, and he'd already proved himself worth more than a one-morning-stand.
The day only got worse as Charles tossed on something rumpled and went with Erik to breakfast at one of the city's best restaurants, where Charles was so charming that no one grimaced at the truly foul cardigan he was wearing. Through the morning they'd discussed Charles' creative process, his friends, what exactly it was that Erik did for a living, and then somehow (Erik still wasn't precisely sure how) Erik's intent to drop Charles off after breakfast and leave the man wanting more got transformed into a long walk, then a matinee at Erik's favorite play (a whole art form Erik had never admitted to enjoying to someone he wanted to sleep with), then a late lunch, and now Erik found himself dragged to a gallery showing by Charles' favorite photographer, and Charles had declared when they were done here he knew precisely the place they should go for dinner.
Their flirtation had pressed on smoothly, not at all worn out by the constant presence. of one another. Knees had bumped under the table at every meal, elbows bumped while they walked, their forearms had been pressed together through the whole of the play, and Erik had taken to subtle guiding touches at the small of Charles' back. But still, they were both dancing around actual touch, skin to skin, in the name of building tension.
Erik's whole day had been consumed by a dance with this floppy-haired little artist, and worst of all, Erik didn't seem to mind.
The second Charles had entered the gallery for the photography display a chunk of other artists had glommed on to him, and were now dragging him from photo to photo demanding his expert opinion on the tone and composition, while the actual photographer -- an ex-solider named Steve Rogers -- trailed after them and grinned at Charles' discomfort. Erik found he wasn't in the mood to watch Charles be fawned over by little hipsters and made his own way through the gallery.
The whole showing was photos of people, each subject in an action portrait where they did what they did best. Rogers had caught a sniper shooting practice rounds, perfect for all the movement you could see restrained, a drill sergeant screaming at someone, spittle flying in an explosion from a wide open mouth, and a young soldier, barely eighteen, laughing brightly while he played soccer with refugee children. As you went deeper into the room the subject matter slowly changed, starting with soldiers doing civilian things, and then becoming purely civilian. The exhibit felt like like Rogers had been trying to adjust to coming all the way home.
At the very end of the space, the culmination of the whole journey, there was a triptych of photos about really being home. On the right was Tony Stark at his computer, (which was a very long story that Erik was going to have to demand from Charles). Stark was leaning over a computer table, frantically typing something into the surface and obviously refusing to hold still for the photo, showing just the slightest blur to his forearms while he kept typing. Stark's hair was a mess, he was wearing sweatpants, and the button down shirt he was wearing looked like it had been plucked off the floor in a rush while he dashed to his computer to get something down before inspiration left him. Despite the lack of skin showing, the whole image was honestly intimate, but restrained enough that Stark's PR department wouldn't have too much trouble.
The photo in the middle was surprisingly simple despite all its moving parts. Men and women of varying ages all scattered around a living room, in various states of motion and conversation. Some soldiers, others obviously civilians, and all used to Rogers snapping their photos. Erik assumed it was some sort of 'welcome home' party for Rogers when he made it back from his last tour, but there was no real way to tell.
On the left was Erik's favorite: a photo of Charles, peering around the edge of his easel to check on the status of his subject while he painted. He was rumpled in a way that under normal circumstances would make Erik jealous about what had been going on in the prior frames, but Erik was beginning to accept that was just Charles' natural state of being. The light coming from the windows behind Charles and the exposure on the photo made him look angelic, and his eyes glow pre naturally blue. Erik made a goal to see Charles like that himself one day, all still and intense from painting him.
A smooth hand slipped into Erik's and Charles' voice whispered, "I was mortified when Steve said he wanted to put a photo of me in his show."
Erik took far too long a moment to reorganize his thoughts and overcome his autonomic response at Charles' slight hand in his own. He couldn't quite process that Charles didn't seem to care about the teasing and tension that had been the rule between them thus far and had reached out to touch Erik with absolutely no fear. The press of Charles' skin to his own for the first time was enough to overload his senses and all Erik could come up with to reply was, "You shouldn't have been."
"I admit the lighting is fantastic, glowing without looking washed out or ridiculous, but I look like a turtle."
Erik just stared at the man in front of him and blinked silently for a moment before he stumbled out, "A turtle?"
"Yes! A little turtle peeking it's head out of his shell."
"I take back everything kind I ever said about your taste Charles, you're obviously faking to get dates."
Charles rolled his eyes and whatever tension he might have had at touching Erik seeped away. "You have to admit, it's not a particularly flattering pose. Though Steve has tried time and again to explain to me that photography is more about the realism of the moment then it is about beauty, but-"
"You're beautiful." Erik said before he could stop himself. And heaven help him, he actually blushed when Charles' eyes grew wide at the words. Charles looked as though he wasn't quite sure if Erik was teasing him or not, so Erik pressed on. "You are beautiful, Charles. There's no pose or place Rogers could put you in where you wouldn't be."
Charles flushed, not nearly as dramatic as all those times when Erik had teased him into it, but all the more perfect because Charles was pleased with him. Charles didn't say anything, just pressed a little closer so Erik could feel the warmth of him despite layers of clothes. When Erik didn't pull back, but didn't press forward, Charles sucked on his lower lip, deepening an already sinful red and flicked his gaze down to Erik's lips for just a moment before Charles summoned his courage and tilted his head back, pressing himself up to Erik's height.
For one perfect moment Erik thought he was actually going to get to kiss Charles, and then a sharp voice interrupted, "Charles! So lovely to see you."
Charles clenched Erik's hand reflexively at the noise, and only Erik saw the pained way Charles' eyes tightened at the sound. Erik brushed his thumb along the back of Charles' hand and ignored the way Charles tried to pull away as he turned around and saw his sister glower at them and his ex-fiancé look amused. Erik spared a silent moment to thank Azazel for his obsessive thoroughness in explaining Charles' background, otherwise Erik would've met these two pretty women with a territorial sneer rather than a passive smirk.
"Raven, you make it sound like you haven't seen me in months." Charles replied.
"I can hardly count a party thrown by Emma as actually seeing you, Charles."
"Oh really Charles," Lillian tagged on, scolding, "Emma?" Charles clenched Erik's hand again, like the mere sound of Lillian's voice was giving him fits. Erik tried not to feel pleased and territorial that Charles was relying on him for comfort rather than trying to scamper away.
Erik gave Charles' hand the slightest of shakes to nudge him along and Charles stumbled out, "Oh yes, of course! Erik Lehnsherr, this is my sister Raven Xavier, and a friend of the family Lillian Neramani." Lillian just cocked an eyebrow while Raven actually looked offended that they had been introduced to Erik like he was the most important person in the conversation rather than Erik introduced to them.
Erik bestowed the women with the most intimidating, but genial, of his smiles (the one he used for opposing counsel's clients) and bid them hello before Charles slowly started edging away from the women. "Well, it's been lovely to see you both, but-"
"Don't be ridiculous, Charles." Raven interrupted, looming forward with the sharp clack of high heels. "We have to at least exchange a word or two." Raven twisted her arm through Charles' and sunk her finely manicured nails into his biceps while she pulled him off down a back hall. Charles cast a look back at Erik that was simultaneously desperate and resigned before he mouthed, 'three minutes'. Erik gave Charles a sharp nod in support then turned his attention back to Lillian, who was watching Erik with an amused eyebrow.
"I'll give this to Charles, you're quite nice to look at."
Erik couldn't quite help his snide and defensive response, "Considering that Charles has such lovely people to look at as part of his profession, I don't think it crossed his mind when choose a lover."
Lillian smirked, "You honestly think he chose you for something other than your beauty?" She shifted her stance ever so slightly to show off her curves and gave Erik a look that meant, 'You think he didn't notice I was stunning when he proposed?'
"I think Charles has learned to make better decisions than that."
Lillian pursed her lips ever so slightly at the slight, but pressed on without comment. "And what is it you do, Mr. Lehnsherr?"
"I'm a lawyer." Lillian puckered her nose like Erik had just declared he was a third world dictator. "Something wrong?"
"Not at all, I just assumed if Charles were to try his hand at a relationship again he would turn to one of his fellow artists."
Erik smirked at her for assuming that all her posh parties had given her the skill to outtalk him. "Charles likes to go where his instincts guide him, no matter where that may be."
"You're saying that Charles' response to you was… instinctual?" she replied, managing to make the question sound terribly lecherous. Unintimidated, Erik released his most feral grin and replied, "I certainly hope so."
Before Lillian had the chance to respond with anything more cutting, Erik's internal timer went off and gave her a sharp nod of dismissal and headed for the dark corner where Charles was busy regretting his mother's second marriage. Raven had Charles backed up against a wall and judging by the way Charles looked like he wanted to melt through that wall and run away, she was ranting.
"Charles, there you are!" Erik put a steady arm around Charles' shoulder, putting himself firmly between Charles and his sister. "We have to get going or we'll miss our reservations."
Raven clamped her hand around Charles' arm again, locking him in place, "I'm sure you can push things back for his sister."
Erik laughed like she was making a joke and replied, "Actually, the restaurant insists that if Charles and I are late again they're going to refuse to give him desert as punishment."
Charles squeaked at the lie, like he didn't know whether to scold Erik for lying or try and help. After a pause he stumbled out a passable attempt at lying, "Not the bread pudding!"
Erik grinned, "Exactly. He said that he's tried every other threat on you so he's decided to get mean."
Raven quirked an eyebrow, "I was under the impression that you two met on Thursday."
Erik's smile turned confidential, "Thursday was when Emma found out about me."
Raven stared at Erik and his pleased smirk, then turned to Charles in disbelief. "What? You dated someone without telling Emma?"
Charles blushed at the lie, but bit his lip to keep from responding and giving them away. Erik had no such compunction and said, "In Charles' defense, he didn't realize we were dating until after the fifth time we went out."
Raven gave a sudden laugh at that, not quite stopping herself from showing approval in time. She straightened out her expression and said, "That does sound like Charles."
"The wait staff at the restaurant was convinced that Charles was stringing me along, being late all the time, and not taking any of the openings I gave him."
"So they put down the law on your behalf."
Erik's smile was very nearly genuine, and Charles loved the sight of it so much that he wrapped his arm around Erik's waist and tugged the man flush against his side. Erik looked down at him in surprise at the motion, and his smile turned all the way honest. The two of them stared at one another for far too long, caught up the affection of the moment until Erik finally looked away and Raven's gaze was flicking back and forth between the two of them, obviously surprised at the moment. Despite that, Raven wasn't the sort of girl who would let them off that simply.
"And what restaurant was this?"
Erik smirked, completely aware that Raven was trying to catch him in a lie, assuming that if she pushed, Erik would be just as terrible at lying as Charles. "Zigeuner."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"The name of the restaurant is Zigeuner."
"And what sort of name is that? German?"
Erik gave her a smile that she took to mean 'since you're Charles' sister I'll let that go', "It is. The German word for Gypsy."
"Gypsy. As in caravans, fortune telling, all that?"
"Something along those lines." Erik didn't want this conversation to get any more personal while they were with Raven, but Charles' warm eyes staring at up him would be enough to snap his refusal and make Erik spill everything. Somehow Erik could see Charles understanding everything, and that made it all the more tempting to tell him. Erik pulled Charles closer and said, "Now, we've got to be on our way or Charles will be subjected to a German scolding the likes of which make even me feel like I'm seven years old again."
Charles laughed and darted forward to drop a kiss on his sister's cheek before snuggling right back next to Erik and pulling him along to the door, and Raven was too thrown by the whole situation to protest. Erik leaned in slightly to ask, "Do you need to speak to Rogers?"
"He'll understand when I tell him that I was escaping Raven. Then he'll find out about Lillian, then tell Tony, and somehow Lillian's family will take some catastrophic financial or social hit."
"Yeah, about that, Tony?"
Charles actually surprised that Erik's information packet from Azazel hadn't covered this. "Tony Stark and I were dorm mates at prep school together. We stayed friends when we went off to college."
"And Rogers?"
"He worked with Logan's unit for a while, and Logan brought him home when they had leave."
"And, of course, you adopted him."
Charles just laughed, "Logan has never steered me wrong before." Charles capped that with a gentle squeeze.
Erik smiled, "Does Tony often have to discipline your ex-es?"
"If I may be clear: Tony has to do nothing on my behalf, he's just exceptionally defensive of people he's fond of.
"I imagine that's a rather small list."
"Don't think I don't know what you're doing, Mr. Lehnsherr."
"I'm not doing anything, Mr. Xavier. I'm still too impressed that you lied to your sister." Erik smirked.
"I did not!" Charles paused for a blush, "You lied to her and I failed to correct you. Now, are we actually going to this restaurant of yours, or did you just make it up in the hope that my sister would fail to remember something in German?"
Erik laughed, "We don't have to go. Even if you sister looks into it, once my name gets mentioned they'll corroborate whatever story I told her."
"Now I absolutely insist we go. There's a story there and I demand to know it."
"It's really not that good a story."
"You're objecting too much, which means it's actually fabulous."
"It's a restaurant."
"Where people would lie for you."
"Because I'm the owner."
Charles stopped mid-stride, "You own a restaurant?"
Erik paused for a moment, not quite sure what to do with so obviously impressed a Charles. "Yes."
"How is that not the line you lead with when you're hitting on people? Hi, I'm Erik Lehnsherr, I'm a cutthroat lawyer at Crane, Poole, and Schmidt -- yes, that's the firm you heard about two days ago on television -- and, by the way, I also have an artistic side because I own a restaurant."
"Owning a restaurant means I have an artistic side?"
"There's an implication. Especially if it's a good restaurant."
"Ah, but you've never been there so you don't know whether or not it's good."
"I know it's good because you'd never support something that was less than perfect. I also know that there's a reason you haven't found a way to drop this restaurant into the conversation before. Something there you want to protect from everything casual."
Erik stuffed his hands into his pockets, somehow widening the distance between them. "And how do you know that?"
Fearless Charles reached out and gently ran his palms down Erik's forearms while he replied, "Because you care. You fight for what you believe in, and only what you believe in. If you think a client is in the wrong you refuse to work for them. The state's prosecutors have been quoted saying that the surest indicator that someone is innocent is if you're defending them. You wouldn't keep something a secret because you're ashamed, you'd do it because it needs protecting, which means this restaurant of yours is a very special place."
"How do you know that?"
"Partly because I'm an artist, studying people is what I do, and partly because I think Azazel has a bet with Janos about whether or not we'll end up killing each other so he's starting dropping hints."
Charles gently tugged on Erik's sleeves until he pulled his hands back out of his pockets and Charles could stand with him palm to palm. Erik just stared at the man in front of him for a moment, completely blown away by the ridiculous amount of trust he'd placed in Erik and his better nature. And how Erik wanted to live up to it. "The operators are friends of my parents."
Charles wrapped one arm around Erik's waist and got him moving again and drew the other arm around his shoulder, still keeping a firm grip on Erik's hand. "Let me guess, the 'operators' used to be the owners, until they ran into financial trouble, and you bought it to help them."
"Basically."
"These must have been very good friends."
"The best of them."
"If you continue to give one word answers then I'm going to let go of your hand.
Erik cleared his throat, acting like the threat did nothing to him and explained, "Ada Roth is my mother's best friend, and has been since they were kinder. One day they snuck away and went into the town where a young man named Hugo lived." Charles grinned at the obvious turn of the story, and Erik nodded. "They got married, and Hugo's cousin came to the wedding."
"Your father."
"My father. The four stayed in Europe for several years, then when when my mother got pregnant, they came out to the states."
"Where they opened up their restaurant."
Erik nodded. "They all had awful jobs when they first moved here, and Mama and Tante Ada hated that none of the German restaurants they found had the sort of food they knew. So the two of them insisted on opening Zigeuner. All four of them worked there until I made enough money for them to retire. Mama and Papa have done so, moving to a quiet little house with too much land and a forest in the backyard, just like Mama always wanted when she was young. But my Tante and Onkel refuse to retire, so I do what I can for them."
Erik finished the abridged version of his story, and when Charles didn't respond he turned to find Charles looking up at him with the gentlest expression he'd ever seen. "Charles?"
Charles shifted the arm around his shoulders and pressed his lips to Erik's knuckles, and Erik's breath caught at the unexpected gesture. "Thank you, Erik. It means… a great deal to me that you're willing to tell me these things."
"Like you said, I don't go for things that are less than perfect."
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Erik/Charles
Warnings: Too Many Words
Disclaimer: Not Mine.
Summary: Under no circumstances is Charles allowed to paint Mr. Lehnsherr. None. Emma doesn't care how darkly seductive the man is, or how he's the first thing Charles has wanted to paint in months. This is simply not allowed.
Of course, keeping Charles away from Lehnsherr would be simpler if Charles stopped sneaking around to see him... and if it didn't look like Lehnsherr was playing for keeps.
Erik was was fairly certain that Charles was secretly trying to get him killed by Logan.
First, the artist had slept through his alarm, answering the door all warm and soft from sleep, and giving Erik a genuine smile like Charles was actually pleased to see him. Erik had to fight back the urge to toss the man over his shoulder and carry him right back up those stairs. But Charles was interesting, and he'd already proved himself worth more than a one-morning-stand.
The day only got worse as Charles tossed on something rumpled and went with Erik to breakfast at one of the city's best restaurants, where Charles was so charming that no one grimaced at the truly foul cardigan he was wearing. Through the morning they'd discussed Charles' creative process, his friends, what exactly it was that Erik did for a living, and then somehow (Erik still wasn't precisely sure how) Erik's intent to drop Charles off after breakfast and leave the man wanting more got transformed into a long walk, then a matinee at Erik's favorite play (a whole art form Erik had never admitted to enjoying to someone he wanted to sleep with), then a late lunch, and now Erik found himself dragged to a gallery showing by Charles' favorite photographer, and Charles had declared when they were done here he knew precisely the place they should go for dinner.
Their flirtation had pressed on smoothly, not at all worn out by the constant presence. of one another. Knees had bumped under the table at every meal, elbows bumped while they walked, their forearms had been pressed together through the whole of the play, and Erik had taken to subtle guiding touches at the small of Charles' back. But still, they were both dancing around actual touch, skin to skin, in the name of building tension.
Erik's whole day had been consumed by a dance with this floppy-haired little artist, and worst of all, Erik didn't seem to mind.
The second Charles had entered the gallery for the photography display a chunk of other artists had glommed on to him, and were now dragging him from photo to photo demanding his expert opinion on the tone and composition, while the actual photographer -- an ex-solider named Steve Rogers -- trailed after them and grinned at Charles' discomfort. Erik found he wasn't in the mood to watch Charles be fawned over by little hipsters and made his own way through the gallery.
The whole showing was photos of people, each subject in an action portrait where they did what they did best. Rogers had caught a sniper shooting practice rounds, perfect for all the movement you could see restrained, a drill sergeant screaming at someone, spittle flying in an explosion from a wide open mouth, and a young soldier, barely eighteen, laughing brightly while he played soccer with refugee children. As you went deeper into the room the subject matter slowly changed, starting with soldiers doing civilian things, and then becoming purely civilian. The exhibit felt like like Rogers had been trying to adjust to coming all the way home.
At the very end of the space, the culmination of the whole journey, there was a triptych of photos about really being home. On the right was Tony Stark at his computer, (which was a very long story that Erik was going to have to demand from Charles). Stark was leaning over a computer table, frantically typing something into the surface and obviously refusing to hold still for the photo, showing just the slightest blur to his forearms while he kept typing. Stark's hair was a mess, he was wearing sweatpants, and the button down shirt he was wearing looked like it had been plucked off the floor in a rush while he dashed to his computer to get something down before inspiration left him. Despite the lack of skin showing, the whole image was honestly intimate, but restrained enough that Stark's PR department wouldn't have too much trouble.
The photo in the middle was surprisingly simple despite all its moving parts. Men and women of varying ages all scattered around a living room, in various states of motion and conversation. Some soldiers, others obviously civilians, and all used to Rogers snapping their photos. Erik assumed it was some sort of 'welcome home' party for Rogers when he made it back from his last tour, but there was no real way to tell.
On the left was Erik's favorite: a photo of Charles, peering around the edge of his easel to check on the status of his subject while he painted. He was rumpled in a way that under normal circumstances would make Erik jealous about what had been going on in the prior frames, but Erik was beginning to accept that was just Charles' natural state of being. The light coming from the windows behind Charles and the exposure on the photo made him look angelic, and his eyes glow pre naturally blue. Erik made a goal to see Charles like that himself one day, all still and intense from painting him.
A smooth hand slipped into Erik's and Charles' voice whispered, "I was mortified when Steve said he wanted to put a photo of me in his show."
Erik took far too long a moment to reorganize his thoughts and overcome his autonomic response at Charles' slight hand in his own. He couldn't quite process that Charles didn't seem to care about the teasing and tension that had been the rule between them thus far and had reached out to touch Erik with absolutely no fear. The press of Charles' skin to his own for the first time was enough to overload his senses and all Erik could come up with to reply was, "You shouldn't have been."
"I admit the lighting is fantastic, glowing without looking washed out or ridiculous, but I look like a turtle."
Erik just stared at the man in front of him and blinked silently for a moment before he stumbled out, "A turtle?"
"Yes! A little turtle peeking it's head out of his shell."
"I take back everything kind I ever said about your taste Charles, you're obviously faking to get dates."
Charles rolled his eyes and whatever tension he might have had at touching Erik seeped away. "You have to admit, it's not a particularly flattering pose. Though Steve has tried time and again to explain to me that photography is more about the realism of the moment then it is about beauty, but-"
"You're beautiful." Erik said before he could stop himself. And heaven help him, he actually blushed when Charles' eyes grew wide at the words. Charles looked as though he wasn't quite sure if Erik was teasing him or not, so Erik pressed on. "You are beautiful, Charles. There's no pose or place Rogers could put you in where you wouldn't be."
Charles flushed, not nearly as dramatic as all those times when Erik had teased him into it, but all the more perfect because Charles was pleased with him. Charles didn't say anything, just pressed a little closer so Erik could feel the warmth of him despite layers of clothes. When Erik didn't pull back, but didn't press forward, Charles sucked on his lower lip, deepening an already sinful red and flicked his gaze down to Erik's lips for just a moment before Charles summoned his courage and tilted his head back, pressing himself up to Erik's height.
For one perfect moment Erik thought he was actually going to get to kiss Charles, and then a sharp voice interrupted, "Charles! So lovely to see you."
Charles clenched Erik's hand reflexively at the noise, and only Erik saw the pained way Charles' eyes tightened at the sound. Erik brushed his thumb along the back of Charles' hand and ignored the way Charles tried to pull away as he turned around and saw his sister glower at them and his ex-fiancé look amused. Erik spared a silent moment to thank Azazel for his obsessive thoroughness in explaining Charles' background, otherwise Erik would've met these two pretty women with a territorial sneer rather than a passive smirk.
"Raven, you make it sound like you haven't seen me in months." Charles replied.
"I can hardly count a party thrown by Emma as actually seeing you, Charles."
"Oh really Charles," Lillian tagged on, scolding, "Emma?" Charles clenched Erik's hand again, like the mere sound of Lillian's voice was giving him fits. Erik tried not to feel pleased and territorial that Charles was relying on him for comfort rather than trying to scamper away.
Erik gave Charles' hand the slightest of shakes to nudge him along and Charles stumbled out, "Oh yes, of course! Erik Lehnsherr, this is my sister Raven Xavier, and a friend of the family Lillian Neramani." Lillian just cocked an eyebrow while Raven actually looked offended that they had been introduced to Erik like he was the most important person in the conversation rather than Erik introduced to them.
Erik bestowed the women with the most intimidating, but genial, of his smiles (the one he used for opposing counsel's clients) and bid them hello before Charles slowly started edging away from the women. "Well, it's been lovely to see you both, but-"
"Don't be ridiculous, Charles." Raven interrupted, looming forward with the sharp clack of high heels. "We have to at least exchange a word or two." Raven twisted her arm through Charles' and sunk her finely manicured nails into his biceps while she pulled him off down a back hall. Charles cast a look back at Erik that was simultaneously desperate and resigned before he mouthed, 'three minutes'. Erik gave Charles a sharp nod in support then turned his attention back to Lillian, who was watching Erik with an amused eyebrow.
"I'll give this to Charles, you're quite nice to look at."
Erik couldn't quite help his snide and defensive response, "Considering that Charles has such lovely people to look at as part of his profession, I don't think it crossed his mind when choose a lover."
Lillian smirked, "You honestly think he chose you for something other than your beauty?" She shifted her stance ever so slightly to show off her curves and gave Erik a look that meant, 'You think he didn't notice I was stunning when he proposed?'
"I think Charles has learned to make better decisions than that."
Lillian pursed her lips ever so slightly at the slight, but pressed on without comment. "And what is it you do, Mr. Lehnsherr?"
"I'm a lawyer." Lillian puckered her nose like Erik had just declared he was a third world dictator. "Something wrong?"
"Not at all, I just assumed if Charles were to try his hand at a relationship again he would turn to one of his fellow artists."
Erik smirked at her for assuming that all her posh parties had given her the skill to outtalk him. "Charles likes to go where his instincts guide him, no matter where that may be."
"You're saying that Charles' response to you was… instinctual?" she replied, managing to make the question sound terribly lecherous. Unintimidated, Erik released his most feral grin and replied, "I certainly hope so."
Before Lillian had the chance to respond with anything more cutting, Erik's internal timer went off and gave her a sharp nod of dismissal and headed for the dark corner where Charles was busy regretting his mother's second marriage. Raven had Charles backed up against a wall and judging by the way Charles looked like he wanted to melt through that wall and run away, she was ranting.
"Charles, there you are!" Erik put a steady arm around Charles' shoulder, putting himself firmly between Charles and his sister. "We have to get going or we'll miss our reservations."
Raven clamped her hand around Charles' arm again, locking him in place, "I'm sure you can push things back for his sister."
Erik laughed like she was making a joke and replied, "Actually, the restaurant insists that if Charles and I are late again they're going to refuse to give him desert as punishment."
Charles squeaked at the lie, like he didn't know whether to scold Erik for lying or try and help. After a pause he stumbled out a passable attempt at lying, "Not the bread pudding!"
Erik grinned, "Exactly. He said that he's tried every other threat on you so he's decided to get mean."
Raven quirked an eyebrow, "I was under the impression that you two met on Thursday."
Erik's smile turned confidential, "Thursday was when Emma found out about me."
Raven stared at Erik and his pleased smirk, then turned to Charles in disbelief. "What? You dated someone without telling Emma?"
Charles blushed at the lie, but bit his lip to keep from responding and giving them away. Erik had no such compunction and said, "In Charles' defense, he didn't realize we were dating until after the fifth time we went out."
Raven gave a sudden laugh at that, not quite stopping herself from showing approval in time. She straightened out her expression and said, "That does sound like Charles."
"The wait staff at the restaurant was convinced that Charles was stringing me along, being late all the time, and not taking any of the openings I gave him."
"So they put down the law on your behalf."
Erik's smile was very nearly genuine, and Charles loved the sight of it so much that he wrapped his arm around Erik's waist and tugged the man flush against his side. Erik looked down at him in surprise at the motion, and his smile turned all the way honest. The two of them stared at one another for far too long, caught up the affection of the moment until Erik finally looked away and Raven's gaze was flicking back and forth between the two of them, obviously surprised at the moment. Despite that, Raven wasn't the sort of girl who would let them off that simply.
"And what restaurant was this?"
Erik smirked, completely aware that Raven was trying to catch him in a lie, assuming that if she pushed, Erik would be just as terrible at lying as Charles. "Zigeuner."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"The name of the restaurant is Zigeuner."
"And what sort of name is that? German?"
Erik gave her a smile that she took to mean 'since you're Charles' sister I'll let that go', "It is. The German word for Gypsy."
"Gypsy. As in caravans, fortune telling, all that?"
"Something along those lines." Erik didn't want this conversation to get any more personal while they were with Raven, but Charles' warm eyes staring at up him would be enough to snap his refusal and make Erik spill everything. Somehow Erik could see Charles understanding everything, and that made it all the more tempting to tell him. Erik pulled Charles closer and said, "Now, we've got to be on our way or Charles will be subjected to a German scolding the likes of which make even me feel like I'm seven years old again."
Charles laughed and darted forward to drop a kiss on his sister's cheek before snuggling right back next to Erik and pulling him along to the door, and Raven was too thrown by the whole situation to protest. Erik leaned in slightly to ask, "Do you need to speak to Rogers?"
"He'll understand when I tell him that I was escaping Raven. Then he'll find out about Lillian, then tell Tony, and somehow Lillian's family will take some catastrophic financial or social hit."
"Yeah, about that, Tony?"
Charles actually surprised that Erik's information packet from Azazel hadn't covered this. "Tony Stark and I were dorm mates at prep school together. We stayed friends when we went off to college."
"And Rogers?"
"He worked with Logan's unit for a while, and Logan brought him home when they had leave."
"And, of course, you adopted him."
Charles just laughed, "Logan has never steered me wrong before." Charles capped that with a gentle squeeze.
Erik smiled, "Does Tony often have to discipline your ex-es?"
"If I may be clear: Tony has to do nothing on my behalf, he's just exceptionally defensive of people he's fond of.
"I imagine that's a rather small list."
"Don't think I don't know what you're doing, Mr. Lehnsherr."
"I'm not doing anything, Mr. Xavier. I'm still too impressed that you lied to your sister." Erik smirked.
"I did not!" Charles paused for a blush, "You lied to her and I failed to correct you. Now, are we actually going to this restaurant of yours, or did you just make it up in the hope that my sister would fail to remember something in German?"
Erik laughed, "We don't have to go. Even if you sister looks into it, once my name gets mentioned they'll corroborate whatever story I told her."
"Now I absolutely insist we go. There's a story there and I demand to know it."
"It's really not that good a story."
"You're objecting too much, which means it's actually fabulous."
"It's a restaurant."
"Where people would lie for you."
"Because I'm the owner."
Charles stopped mid-stride, "You own a restaurant?"
Erik paused for a moment, not quite sure what to do with so obviously impressed a Charles. "Yes."
"How is that not the line you lead with when you're hitting on people? Hi, I'm Erik Lehnsherr, I'm a cutthroat lawyer at Crane, Poole, and Schmidt -- yes, that's the firm you heard about two days ago on television -- and, by the way, I also have an artistic side because I own a restaurant."
"Owning a restaurant means I have an artistic side?"
"There's an implication. Especially if it's a good restaurant."
"Ah, but you've never been there so you don't know whether or not it's good."
"I know it's good because you'd never support something that was less than perfect. I also know that there's a reason you haven't found a way to drop this restaurant into the conversation before. Something there you want to protect from everything casual."
Erik stuffed his hands into his pockets, somehow widening the distance between them. "And how do you know that?"
Fearless Charles reached out and gently ran his palms down Erik's forearms while he replied, "Because you care. You fight for what you believe in, and only what you believe in. If you think a client is in the wrong you refuse to work for them. The state's prosecutors have been quoted saying that the surest indicator that someone is innocent is if you're defending them. You wouldn't keep something a secret because you're ashamed, you'd do it because it needs protecting, which means this restaurant of yours is a very special place."
"How do you know that?"
"Partly because I'm an artist, studying people is what I do, and partly because I think Azazel has a bet with Janos about whether or not we'll end up killing each other so he's starting dropping hints."
Charles gently tugged on Erik's sleeves until he pulled his hands back out of his pockets and Charles could stand with him palm to palm. Erik just stared at the man in front of him for a moment, completely blown away by the ridiculous amount of trust he'd placed in Erik and his better nature. And how Erik wanted to live up to it. "The operators are friends of my parents."
Charles wrapped one arm around Erik's waist and got him moving again and drew the other arm around his shoulder, still keeping a firm grip on Erik's hand. "Let me guess, the 'operators' used to be the owners, until they ran into financial trouble, and you bought it to help them."
"Basically."
"These must have been very good friends."
"The best of them."
"If you continue to give one word answers then I'm going to let go of your hand.
Erik cleared his throat, acting like the threat did nothing to him and explained, "Ada Roth is my mother's best friend, and has been since they were kinder. One day they snuck away and went into the town where a young man named Hugo lived." Charles grinned at the obvious turn of the story, and Erik nodded. "They got married, and Hugo's cousin came to the wedding."
"Your father."
"My father. The four stayed in Europe for several years, then when when my mother got pregnant, they came out to the states."
"Where they opened up their restaurant."
Erik nodded. "They all had awful jobs when they first moved here, and Mama and Tante Ada hated that none of the German restaurants they found had the sort of food they knew. So the two of them insisted on opening Zigeuner. All four of them worked there until I made enough money for them to retire. Mama and Papa have done so, moving to a quiet little house with too much land and a forest in the backyard, just like Mama always wanted when she was young. But my Tante and Onkel refuse to retire, so I do what I can for them."
Erik finished the abridged version of his story, and when Charles didn't respond he turned to find Charles looking up at him with the gentlest expression he'd ever seen. "Charles?"
Charles shifted the arm around his shoulders and pressed his lips to Erik's knuckles, and Erik's breath caught at the unexpected gesture. "Thank you, Erik. It means… a great deal to me that you're willing to tell me these things."
"Like you said, I don't go for things that are less than perfect."