And yet another X-men --- ChErik -- Oneshot; Your face
Title: Your face
Fandom: X-men First class
Pairing: ChErik/Charles x Erik
Genre: Crack & Romance, slightly AU?
Rating: Pg-13 for swearing
Word count: 2700 approx.
Warnings: none really.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, but I wish I did.
Summary: What starts off as hatred between two gifted teens, that are sent to an institution to contemplate their actions, turns into something much worse.
Notes: Came up with this while watching "Christ stopped at Eboli" (Cristo si è fermato a Eboli) this morning. A movie about Carlo Levi who was 'interned' to Southern Italy where electricity and toilets had yet to appear. Also based on THIS ; because they are so in love, really.
Your face
"I hate your face," Charles shouts at the top of his lungs. "It makes me want to drown you with my thoughts alone."
Erik turns, facing Charles, with an expression even cockier than his usual. "I'd like to see you try."
Charles snorts, his eyebrow raising in a challenging way. And, without batting an eye, Charles looks at Erik with murderous intent, really, now?
"Fuck," Erik growls, his nostrils flaring as he elongates the single syllable of the word. "Don't be a pussy and say it out loud, you prick of a genius."
"No," Charles grabs Erik by the collar. "I'm not a pussy. But thanks for the compliment."
Erik prepares to hit Charles with the pots he's been holding above them the entire time. "It wasn't a compliment, asshole. Now let me go, before I make you."
More like make me make out with you, Charles grins, his grip tightening on Erik's collar. "Right, honey?"
"That's it," Erik forces Charles to the ground, his arm reeling back to end it with one blow. "I don't need my powers for a weakling like you."
Charles covers Erik's faces suddenly with both palms, pushing him away as hard as he can. That distracts the older man enough for him to regain freedom of his legs and switch their positions in no more than a few seconds, pinning Erik's arms down. "Now what?"
"Now," A monstrous voice, deep and resounding, makes its appearance. "You are both on my bad side."
A man with muscles upon muscles, a shirt more suitable for someone half his size, and claws that could shred through car doors without a moment of resistance is standing in the doorway ready to pounce on them.
Logan, they think in unison.
Logan grabs both men, his claws pointed at either of their throats. "I think you two need a vacation," He snarls, his teeth showing finally. "I sure as hell do."
-----------------------
Before they could protest or find some way around it, Erik and Charles are shipped off to a secure location where Logan usually exiles the 'evil' mutants who have nothing on their mind but murdering humans as sport.
(Logan decided it was best to drive them there, personally. Not to inflict pain, nor to reprimand them in ways that would make the cry out at night like little girls, mind you. But to ensure they arrived in two pieces, two separate pieces, and knew what would happen if they did not stay in the 'facility'.)
Facility, more like prison. Erik smirks at Charles's thought, immediately turning away when the smaller teen catches him doing so.
Logan takes out a cigar, lighting it and inhaling almost dramatically before pointing at the 'facility' with it. "This is gonna be your home until you settle whatever feud you guys have." Logan sucks in another breath of the toxic air. "Take your time, of course."
He turns, turning halfway back to add: "And if you cause any trouble for Hank who is busy with hazardous research, well," Logan grins. "I hope you know I'm not the only one who can kill you two in a flash."
Logan leaves, waving at the two speechless men, and driving off at an unimaginable speed. He could not be happier to be rid of the brats constantly giving him a headache.
Charles pinches the skin between his brows, wondering how he let it get this far. He was always good at avoiding conflict and striving for the high road, but sometimes he's not good enough. (Or perhaps Erik just knew his buttons too well.)
"Well then," Erik grabs his bag of clothes. "Guess we should fight in a more secluded place next time, honey."
Charles rolls his eyes and pushes Erik aside, pulling along his suitcase with wheels. "Do not speak to me."
-----------------------
Charles stares at the door of the facility; thick as a wall, but made solely of metal and bolts. What could Hank be doing inside?
Taking in a deep breath, Charles musters up enough courage to ring the bell (since knocking on anything this reinforced would be a waste of energy). But as the bell echoes behind the door, as well as in his mind, he wonders why he didn't just force Erik to open it with his power --getting him in trouble in the process--resolving two issues at once.
Suddenly, the door creaks open and Charles is afraid to look directly at whomever could compete with Logan physically. He squints, his grip tightening on his suitcase.
Erik pushes Charles aside, trying to get a glance, no fear present in his mind (Charles knows; he checked).
"Hey," The voice is calm and, in so many ways, more soothing than Logan's could ever be. It was even kind of paternal. "You two must be Charles and Erik."
Hank puts out a hand, if it can be called that, his skin blue and covered in fur. "Need help with your luggage?" His brilliance seeps through every word, to the point that Charles is intimidated by it. On the other hand, Erik is intimidated by the sheer size of Hank.
"Sure," Erik forces a smile, handing Hank his duffle bag to carry without a second thought. "Thanks a lot."
Hank pushes his glasses to the top of his head, throwing the bag over his shoulder. "Jesus," He laughs warmly. "What's in here? Metal and rocks?"
Erik tilts his head. "You're right about the metal." He grins, turning to stick his tongue out at Charles.
Charles rolls his eyes, pushing the handle of his suitcase in to carry it inside more easily. "I'm fine, Hank."
Hank nods, gesturing for them to come in. "Your rooms are upstairs to the right. You can look around if you want to, but the basement is where I do my work, and it's off-limits to delinquents especially."
Charles scoffs. "I'm hardly a delinquent," He pushes his bangs out of his eyes. "That should be even more obvious as I'm standing next to this, this--fiend!"
"Sorry Charles," Hank pats him on the back in a friendly manner. "But you just proved how much of a delinquent you are by saying that."
Hank smiles and starts to climb up the stairway.
Erik can't hold back the chuckle that catches in his throat, causing him to choke on his saliva for a few moments. "Oh man," He wipes the tears from his eyes. "I love this guy already."
-----------------------
The facility, prison, whatever it is (halfway house perhaps), isn't much different from the home they were sent from, besides the fact that it's much less lively and close to necessities.
It's like a cottage version of where they were, Charles decides mentally.
Just as he did in the mansion, Charles takes the room with the better window (on the left) because he needs it for reading. He always believed natural lighting gave books an added touch of magic that light bulbs and candles could not provide.
Erik hardly stays in his room anyhow, much more resolved to drive Charles insane by pacing back and fourth, and purposely thinking horrid things about Charles all throughout the day.
-----------------------
Erik busts into Charles's room without asking, letting out a long, awkward (for both of them) sound, when he realizes Charles was in the middle of getting dressed after his shower.
"Jesus Christ," Charles says through clenched teeth. "I know you want to make my life hell, but I don't believe you want the same fate for yourself."
Erik can't help but chuckle, immediately swallowing it back and pretending that he is just clearing his throat. That was actually funny, Charles could actually say a good joke.
"I heard that," Charles mumbles, pulling a shirt over his head. "What did you come in for?"
"Hmm," Erik turns around, leaning against the table where Charles reads during the day. "Good question. I'll come back when I remember."
Goddammit Erik! I swear I should strangle you to death and do the world a favour right now. Charles's fists are balled up, his face reddening with every passing second. "Are you still smiling?!"
Erik's voice comes out high pitched and airy. "N-no." His roar of laughter breaks through his (weak) barrier of self-control, and shatters whatever patience, pride and restraint Charles had left.
Charles charges Erik, tackling him like a football player, and taking them both down in the process. Somehow, Erik is still laughing because now he has the vision of a level-headed Charles turning into a beast and tackling people stuck in his head on repeat.
"Fuck you," Charles shouts at the top of his lungs, his fist swinging before he can hold back like he always tries to.
The impact is rougher than he intended it to be, his hand burning with the stinging pain of his knuckles colliding with even harder jaw bones. Charles sits back, practically straddling Erik, shaking his fist to make the pain end somehow.
This is when Erik has the bright idea of flipping Charles off of his lap, causing him to encounter the side of the wooden bedframe, and switch from holding his fingers to the back of his head instead.
Fuck, fuck. Jesusgoddamnbullshitmotherfucker. It hurts! Charles rolls away from Erik, holding his--what he believes to be open--skull with both hands, now.
Erik holds the side of his face, realizing he's not half as hurt as Charles is, what with the smaller man's knuckles actually bleeding. He feels kind of...bad.
I really hope this doesn't affect my telepathic abilities. Charles forgets to keep his thoughts to himself, and Erik has to cover his mouth with both hands now, if he doesn't want to be slugged again.
"I'm," Erik inhales, leaning in to touch Charles tentatively. "really sorry, buddy." And he manages to keep his laughter in long enough to look sincere.
Charles's eyes move side to side, deciding whether he can forgive Erik just yet. He sighs, sitting up, his back against the 'party' responsible for his (possible) concussion. "I'm sorry, too."
He knows he's going to regret apologizing when he's so happy that he could finally materialize all his anger with one blow, but the words are already in the air and dancing around Erik's brain (once again, Charles checked).
"Okay," Erik smiles. Standing up and putting his hand out for Charles. "Want me to check if it's bleeding or something?"
Charles doesn't really need help getting up, nor does he think it's serious, but the gesture is so kind he just can't refuse. He takes the taller man's hand and stands slowly. Suddenly, the room is spinning. "Whoa..."
Erik's smile fades in a moment. "What's wrong?" He puts his hand on Charles's shoulder to stabilize him. "Are you okay, Charles?"
Charles blinks the feeling away. "Yeah," His brain feels like mashed potatoes. "I think, it's just because I forgot to eat today. Stood up too quickly."
"What the--," Erik snaps. "Turn around, let me check to be sure." He spins Charles (which isn't helping in the least), but he means well so Charles doesn't mention that.
Erik's face is severe as he gently searches through the brown locks, his fingers scraping over the uneven skin in search of a gash or something of that sort. Nothing. He rubs gently, to soothe the leftover pain away. Charles sighs with relief, a shiver running up his spin; the simple touch proving to be more welcome than he'd expected.
Erik snaps out of caretaker mode; suddenly too aware of what exactly he's doing to his arch nemesis when he feels the same shiver travel through his own skin, and clears his throat.
"Seems okay," Erik moves to sit on the edge of the bed. "Should I make you a sandwich or something?" What am I saying, god. I sound like a worrying mother.
It's Charles's turn to laugh boisterously. "I like how it sounds coming from you; I never really knew motherly love after all." The smile that follows could not be more genuine if he tried.
Erik finds himself smiling too; a toothy grin that he hadn't used since before his mother was killed. "Okay then," He slaps his knees, standing up abruptly. "I'll get out of your hair--literally."
Charles grabs Erik's wrist, wondering what exactly his body is doing, but not fighting it for reasons unbeknownst to himself. "Could you--" He looks down at his socks; Erik doesn't have any on and somehow just seeing that tiny amount of skin attracts him enough to shiver again.
He lets go of Erik's wrist and sits down on his bed.
Now Erik is curious. "Could I what?" He sits next to Charles.
Charles looks up slowly, finding Erik's eyes and wondering how he hadn't noticed just why Erik could get away with being so cocky all these years. He's gorgeous, especially when he's concerned, especially when it's like nothing else in the world matters but what comes out of your mouth next.
"Could you stay with me?" Charles finds the nerve to say. "If I do have a concussion, it's best I stay awake for a while until it passes."
Erik smiles, not the toothy grin, but something more mature, more sensual; like he found a dirty magazine under Charles's bed or something. "No problem, buddy."
Hank is leaning against the wall in the hall, a smile ear-to-ear as he can't wait to tell Logan he's resolved their issues for good. He had a feeling that he just needed to let them get it out of their system once and for all. If he were wrong, he would have had to punish them--personally--and no one who experienced that ever came back the same.
-----------------------
A few hours pass, Charles feels like he's spinning although he hasn't moved an inch. Erik is lying next to him, looking over at him once in a while to make sure he's not sleeping.
It's 1 am. Charles is feeling drowsy, having woken up early to read through Shakespeare's plays for the umpteenth time. He turns to Erik, who looks like hell (no thanks to his fist), and feels bad for forcing him up as well.
"Maybe--" Charles grabs Erik's hand, as he would Raven, but it feels different somehow. "--you should get some rest, or at least get some ice for your cheek."
Erik shakes his head, squeezing Charles's hand lightly. That's unexpected for both of them. "I'm not going anywhere 'til I know you're not going to die in your sleep."
A bit dramatic, but he's not complaining. "Alright," Charles leans his head on Erik's shoulder. "Is this okay then?"
Erik hums his approval, his free hand reaching across to stroke the smaller man's cheek lovingly. He couldn't believe it himself. He apologized, or tried to. "I don't know--what--I'm sorry, that was weird--"
"Not at all," Charles turns to face Erik, their faces so close he can feel the tension building between them. "I--liked it."
Erik must speak a different language, Charles contemplates quickly, because he had hardly finished the sentence, and Erik's lips were pressed against his, hungry for contact.
"Oh my god--" Erik jumps off the bed, his hands in the air, flailing like a rabid fan. "I don't know--just--I'll go now."
Charles laughs, and laughs, and laughs until his jaw hurts as though he was the one who was punched earlier. "Erik," Charles beckons him with the closest hand. "I wanted it too."
I want to do it again. And again. He sends his own thoughts to Erik, enjoying the way the flushed man, turns away instantly. "We have a lot of catching up to do."
-----------------------
A week later, they are granted permission to return to the mansion with all the other mutants if they promise to behave. Which they do, but somehow Logan is still irritated with the duo. Just for a different reason this time.
Erik turns to Charles, who is reading at the other end of the living room, pursing his lips and making a kiss sound. Charles grins from behind his book, putting it down momentarily to reproduce the same expression and sound.
Raven rolls her eyes, throwing a pillow at each of them. "Will you two get a room, I mean," She turns to Logan who is standing in the doorway. "Is it normal that I didn't eat yet and I feel like the contents of my stomach are trying to empty?"
Logan nods for a long moment.
Erik and Charles send each other the same thought: I love you.
-END-
Comments are ♥
Fandom: X-men First class
Pairing: ChErik/Charles x Erik
Genre: Crack & Romance, slightly AU?
Rating: Pg-13 for swearing
Word count: 2700 approx.
Warnings: none really.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, but I wish I did.
Summary: What starts off as hatred between two gifted teens, that are sent to an institution to contemplate their actions, turns into something much worse.
Notes: Came up with this while watching "Christ stopped at Eboli" (Cristo si è fermato a Eboli) this morning. A movie about Carlo Levi who was 'interned' to Southern Italy where electricity and toilets had yet to appear. Also based on THIS ; because they are so in love, really.
Your face
"I hate your face," Charles shouts at the top of his lungs. "It makes me want to drown you with my thoughts alone."
Erik turns, facing Charles, with an expression even cockier than his usual. "I'd like to see you try."
Charles snorts, his eyebrow raising in a challenging way. And, without batting an eye, Charles looks at Erik with murderous intent, really, now?
"Fuck," Erik growls, his nostrils flaring as he elongates the single syllable of the word. "Don't be a pussy and say it out loud, you prick of a genius."
"No," Charles grabs Erik by the collar. "I'm not a pussy. But thanks for the compliment."
Erik prepares to hit Charles with the pots he's been holding above them the entire time. "It wasn't a compliment, asshole. Now let me go, before I make you."
More like make me make out with you, Charles grins, his grip tightening on Erik's collar. "Right, honey?"
"That's it," Erik forces Charles to the ground, his arm reeling back to end it with one blow. "I don't need my powers for a weakling like you."
Charles covers Erik's faces suddenly with both palms, pushing him away as hard as he can. That distracts the older man enough for him to regain freedom of his legs and switch their positions in no more than a few seconds, pinning Erik's arms down. "Now what?"
"Now," A monstrous voice, deep and resounding, makes its appearance. "You are both on my bad side."
A man with muscles upon muscles, a shirt more suitable for someone half his size, and claws that could shred through car doors without a moment of resistance is standing in the doorway ready to pounce on them.
Logan, they think in unison.
Logan grabs both men, his claws pointed at either of their throats. "I think you two need a vacation," He snarls, his teeth showing finally. "I sure as hell do."
-----------------------
Before they could protest or find some way around it, Erik and Charles are shipped off to a secure location where Logan usually exiles the 'evil' mutants who have nothing on their mind but murdering humans as sport.
(Logan decided it was best to drive them there, personally. Not to inflict pain, nor to reprimand them in ways that would make the cry out at night like little girls, mind you. But to ensure they arrived in two pieces, two separate pieces, and knew what would happen if they did not stay in the 'facility'.)
Facility, more like prison. Erik smirks at Charles's thought, immediately turning away when the smaller teen catches him doing so.
Logan takes out a cigar, lighting it and inhaling almost dramatically before pointing at the 'facility' with it. "This is gonna be your home until you settle whatever feud you guys have." Logan sucks in another breath of the toxic air. "Take your time, of course."
He turns, turning halfway back to add: "And if you cause any trouble for Hank who is busy with hazardous research, well," Logan grins. "I hope you know I'm not the only one who can kill you two in a flash."
Logan leaves, waving at the two speechless men, and driving off at an unimaginable speed. He could not be happier to be rid of the brats constantly giving him a headache.
Charles pinches the skin between his brows, wondering how he let it get this far. He was always good at avoiding conflict and striving for the high road, but sometimes he's not good enough. (Or perhaps Erik just knew his buttons too well.)
"Well then," Erik grabs his bag of clothes. "Guess we should fight in a more secluded place next time, honey."
Charles rolls his eyes and pushes Erik aside, pulling along his suitcase with wheels. "Do not speak to me."
-----------------------
Charles stares at the door of the facility; thick as a wall, but made solely of metal and bolts. What could Hank be doing inside?
Taking in a deep breath, Charles musters up enough courage to ring the bell (since knocking on anything this reinforced would be a waste of energy). But as the bell echoes behind the door, as well as in his mind, he wonders why he didn't just force Erik to open it with his power --getting him in trouble in the process--resolving two issues at once.
Suddenly, the door creaks open and Charles is afraid to look directly at whomever could compete with Logan physically. He squints, his grip tightening on his suitcase.
Erik pushes Charles aside, trying to get a glance, no fear present in his mind (Charles knows; he checked).
"Hey," The voice is calm and, in so many ways, more soothing than Logan's could ever be. It was even kind of paternal. "You two must be Charles and Erik."
Hank puts out a hand, if it can be called that, his skin blue and covered in fur. "Need help with your luggage?" His brilliance seeps through every word, to the point that Charles is intimidated by it. On the other hand, Erik is intimidated by the sheer size of Hank.
"Sure," Erik forces a smile, handing Hank his duffle bag to carry without a second thought. "Thanks a lot."
Hank pushes his glasses to the top of his head, throwing the bag over his shoulder. "Jesus," He laughs warmly. "What's in here? Metal and rocks?"
Erik tilts his head. "You're right about the metal." He grins, turning to stick his tongue out at Charles.
Charles rolls his eyes, pushing the handle of his suitcase in to carry it inside more easily. "I'm fine, Hank."
Hank nods, gesturing for them to come in. "Your rooms are upstairs to the right. You can look around if you want to, but the basement is where I do my work, and it's off-limits to delinquents especially."
Charles scoffs. "I'm hardly a delinquent," He pushes his bangs out of his eyes. "That should be even more obvious as I'm standing next to this, this--fiend!"
"Sorry Charles," Hank pats him on the back in a friendly manner. "But you just proved how much of a delinquent you are by saying that."
Hank smiles and starts to climb up the stairway.
Erik can't hold back the chuckle that catches in his throat, causing him to choke on his saliva for a few moments. "Oh man," He wipes the tears from his eyes. "I love this guy already."
-----------------------
The facility, prison, whatever it is (halfway house perhaps), isn't much different from the home they were sent from, besides the fact that it's much less lively and close to necessities.
It's like a cottage version of where they were, Charles decides mentally.
Just as he did in the mansion, Charles takes the room with the better window (on the left) because he needs it for reading. He always believed natural lighting gave books an added touch of magic that light bulbs and candles could not provide.
Erik hardly stays in his room anyhow, much more resolved to drive Charles insane by pacing back and fourth, and purposely thinking horrid things about Charles all throughout the day.
-----------------------
Erik busts into Charles's room without asking, letting out a long, awkward (for both of them) sound, when he realizes Charles was in the middle of getting dressed after his shower.
"Jesus Christ," Charles says through clenched teeth. "I know you want to make my life hell, but I don't believe you want the same fate for yourself."
Erik can't help but chuckle, immediately swallowing it back and pretending that he is just clearing his throat. That was actually funny, Charles could actually say a good joke.
"I heard that," Charles mumbles, pulling a shirt over his head. "What did you come in for?"
"Hmm," Erik turns around, leaning against the table where Charles reads during the day. "Good question. I'll come back when I remember."
Goddammit Erik! I swear I should strangle you to death and do the world a favour right now. Charles's fists are balled up, his face reddening with every passing second. "Are you still smiling?!"
Erik's voice comes out high pitched and airy. "N-no." His roar of laughter breaks through his (weak) barrier of self-control, and shatters whatever patience, pride and restraint Charles had left.
Charles charges Erik, tackling him like a football player, and taking them both down in the process. Somehow, Erik is still laughing because now he has the vision of a level-headed Charles turning into a beast and tackling people stuck in his head on repeat.
"Fuck you," Charles shouts at the top of his lungs, his fist swinging before he can hold back like he always tries to.
The impact is rougher than he intended it to be, his hand burning with the stinging pain of his knuckles colliding with even harder jaw bones. Charles sits back, practically straddling Erik, shaking his fist to make the pain end somehow.
This is when Erik has the bright idea of flipping Charles off of his lap, causing him to encounter the side of the wooden bedframe, and switch from holding his fingers to the back of his head instead.
Fuck, fuck. Jesusgoddamnbullshitmotherfucker. It hurts! Charles rolls away from Erik, holding his--what he believes to be open--skull with both hands, now.
Erik holds the side of his face, realizing he's not half as hurt as Charles is, what with the smaller man's knuckles actually bleeding. He feels kind of...bad.
I really hope this doesn't affect my telepathic abilities. Charles forgets to keep his thoughts to himself, and Erik has to cover his mouth with both hands now, if he doesn't want to be slugged again.
"I'm," Erik inhales, leaning in to touch Charles tentatively. "really sorry, buddy." And he manages to keep his laughter in long enough to look sincere.
Charles's eyes move side to side, deciding whether he can forgive Erik just yet. He sighs, sitting up, his back against the 'party' responsible for his (possible) concussion. "I'm sorry, too."
He knows he's going to regret apologizing when he's so happy that he could finally materialize all his anger with one blow, but the words are already in the air and dancing around Erik's brain (once again, Charles checked).
"Okay," Erik smiles. Standing up and putting his hand out for Charles. "Want me to check if it's bleeding or something?"
Charles doesn't really need help getting up, nor does he think it's serious, but the gesture is so kind he just can't refuse. He takes the taller man's hand and stands slowly. Suddenly, the room is spinning. "Whoa..."
Erik's smile fades in a moment. "What's wrong?" He puts his hand on Charles's shoulder to stabilize him. "Are you okay, Charles?"
Charles blinks the feeling away. "Yeah," His brain feels like mashed potatoes. "I think, it's just because I forgot to eat today. Stood up too quickly."
"What the--," Erik snaps. "Turn around, let me check to be sure." He spins Charles (which isn't helping in the least), but he means well so Charles doesn't mention that.
Erik's face is severe as he gently searches through the brown locks, his fingers scraping over the uneven skin in search of a gash or something of that sort. Nothing. He rubs gently, to soothe the leftover pain away. Charles sighs with relief, a shiver running up his spin; the simple touch proving to be more welcome than he'd expected.
Erik snaps out of caretaker mode; suddenly too aware of what exactly he's doing to his arch nemesis when he feels the same shiver travel through his own skin, and clears his throat.
"Seems okay," Erik moves to sit on the edge of the bed. "Should I make you a sandwich or something?" What am I saying, god. I sound like a worrying mother.
It's Charles's turn to laugh boisterously. "I like how it sounds coming from you; I never really knew motherly love after all." The smile that follows could not be more genuine if he tried.
Erik finds himself smiling too; a toothy grin that he hadn't used since before his mother was killed. "Okay then," He slaps his knees, standing up abruptly. "I'll get out of your hair--literally."
Charles grabs Erik's wrist, wondering what exactly his body is doing, but not fighting it for reasons unbeknownst to himself. "Could you--" He looks down at his socks; Erik doesn't have any on and somehow just seeing that tiny amount of skin attracts him enough to shiver again.
He lets go of Erik's wrist and sits down on his bed.
Now Erik is curious. "Could I what?" He sits next to Charles.
Charles looks up slowly, finding Erik's eyes and wondering how he hadn't noticed just why Erik could get away with being so cocky all these years. He's gorgeous, especially when he's concerned, especially when it's like nothing else in the world matters but what comes out of your mouth next.
"Could you stay with me?" Charles finds the nerve to say. "If I do have a concussion, it's best I stay awake for a while until it passes."
Erik smiles, not the toothy grin, but something more mature, more sensual; like he found a dirty magazine under Charles's bed or something. "No problem, buddy."
Hank is leaning against the wall in the hall, a smile ear-to-ear as he can't wait to tell Logan he's resolved their issues for good. He had a feeling that he just needed to let them get it out of their system once and for all. If he were wrong, he would have had to punish them--personally--and no one who experienced that ever came back the same.
-----------------------
A few hours pass, Charles feels like he's spinning although he hasn't moved an inch. Erik is lying next to him, looking over at him once in a while to make sure he's not sleeping.
It's 1 am. Charles is feeling drowsy, having woken up early to read through Shakespeare's plays for the umpteenth time. He turns to Erik, who looks like hell (no thanks to his fist), and feels bad for forcing him up as well.
"Maybe--" Charles grabs Erik's hand, as he would Raven, but it feels different somehow. "--you should get some rest, or at least get some ice for your cheek."
Erik shakes his head, squeezing Charles's hand lightly. That's unexpected for both of them. "I'm not going anywhere 'til I know you're not going to die in your sleep."
A bit dramatic, but he's not complaining. "Alright," Charles leans his head on Erik's shoulder. "Is this okay then?"
Erik hums his approval, his free hand reaching across to stroke the smaller man's cheek lovingly. He couldn't believe it himself. He apologized, or tried to. "I don't know--what--I'm sorry, that was weird--"
"Not at all," Charles turns to face Erik, their faces so close he can feel the tension building between them. "I--liked it."
Erik must speak a different language, Charles contemplates quickly, because he had hardly finished the sentence, and Erik's lips were pressed against his, hungry for contact.
"Oh my god--" Erik jumps off the bed, his hands in the air, flailing like a rabid fan. "I don't know--just--I'll go now."
Charles laughs, and laughs, and laughs until his jaw hurts as though he was the one who was punched earlier. "Erik," Charles beckons him with the closest hand. "I wanted it too."
I want to do it again. And again. He sends his own thoughts to Erik, enjoying the way the flushed man, turns away instantly. "We have a lot of catching up to do."
-----------------------
A week later, they are granted permission to return to the mansion with all the other mutants if they promise to behave. Which they do, but somehow Logan is still irritated with the duo. Just for a different reason this time.
Erik turns to Charles, who is reading at the other end of the living room, pursing his lips and making a kiss sound. Charles grins from behind his book, putting it down momentarily to reproduce the same expression and sound.
Raven rolls her eyes, throwing a pillow at each of them. "Will you two get a room, I mean," She turns to Logan who is standing in the doorway. "Is it normal that I didn't eat yet and I feel like the contents of my stomach are trying to empty?"
Logan nods for a long moment.
Erik and Charles send each other the same thought: I love you.
-END-
Comments are ♥