XMen fiction: You're On The Guest List
Summary: Charles lives a double life. Respectable Oxford professor by day, party extraordinaire at the weekend. But now everything is imploding, he can hear voices in his mind, and his flatmate is becoming increasingly magnetic. Slash E/C
Authors Note: This is a SLASH fic, the pairing is Erik/Charles, with mentions of Charles/Shaw. You have been warned. This fic begins with no powers, but they do come into play later on. The premis is that Erik owns a club, Shaw is bankrolling it, and Charles likes to party. Simple. It’s also set modern day, because better clubbing music, sorry 60s.
Charles looked at himself in the mirror and removed his tie, tugging it side to side until it loosened. There were the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes already, and his shoulders were slumping. It had been a long week; his students had been busy studying for what was supposed to be a surprise test today. Charles didn’t know how they had managed to find out about it, but somehow his pop quizzes never seemed to cause too much panic. He suspected it had something to do with the two boys who had taken the seats in the front row at the beginning of the year, and had never missed a class since. Despite the fact that they often seemed to be suffering from post party hangovers, they always turned in their papers. Sean and Alex had probably been sneaking a look at his lesson plans again, although he could prove nothing.
Charles looked at the stack of papers on his coffee table, and knew that it would take many hours of work to get through them all. But Charles had conflicting priorities. Raven had invited him to London for the weekend, and although this wasn’t a rare occurrence, he had never let her down. He always had a good time when he was with Raven, even though it sometimes impacted upon the rest of his life. More than once he had considered the though that he might be crazy. Keeping his two opposing lives separate was becoming a full time task, people were starting to wonder whether he was ill, since most of the week he spent feeling dreadful. He must have looked awful too, especially on Mondays, but no one commented. Luckily most of his students seemed happy enough with him, they were all achieving excellent grades. As a result no one appeared to mind that their professor looked as if he’d been at the hard liquor all weekend.
Grabbing his coat, and his usual weekend bag, Charles stuffed the test papers into it, along with his spare clothes, and his wallet. Looking around his flat one last time, Charles took a deep breath and closed the door. He was finally ready for the weekend, but elsewhere his sister was growing impatient. Charles’ phone was already ringing as he waited for his taxi, and he knew it would be Raven.
“Are you on your way down yet?” she asked as soon as he answered. She sounded irritable.
“I’m just waiting for the taxi.”
“You’re joking right? I thought you’d be almost here by now,” Raven complained. She was speaking in a loud and strained voice. From the background noise Charles supposed she was still at work. He could hear people yelling, and he wondered why Raven had chosen to phone him from the restaurant kitchen.
Charles sighed, he’d tried to get away sooner, but one of his students, Hank had wanted to discuss some of the test questions, and Charles couldn’t excuse himself without feeling guilty. He was now an hour behind.
“Well, I am going to be drinking tonight without you then,” Raven said resolved. “I guess I’ll see you on Saturday instead?” She hung up after someone started yelling her name, and Charles stared at the phone for a moment, before tucking it back into his pocket. He felt in his pocket for his keys, checking that they hadn’t disappeared in the few minutes that he had been standing on the side of the road. But they were still here.
The train down from Oxford to London Paddington would take about an hour and twenty minutes, providing there were no delays, and then Charles would find a black cab to take him the rest of the way. The room he rented in London made up part of a large flat in the West End, which in turn, belonged to a man named Erik Lensherr. Someone Charles had found via chance, having seen a business card attached to a wall in a café, offering a room for rent.
As Charles travelled towards the train station he pulled out one of the papers in his bag, and began reading. He was determined not to waste a moment of his weekend, and aimlessly staring out of windows, whilst there was work to be done was counterproductive. From the time it was now, he knew that when he finally arrived at the flat, Erik would already be out. But since he had barely missed a weekend in almost a year, he knew Erik would be probably expecting him anyway, and it wouldn’t be a surprise to find Charles there when he came home.
Line Break
Erik smiled. The club was packed. It was a week since opening night, and word of mouth had spread, until the queue to get in was ridiculous. Erik had worked hard to get publicity for his project; he’d ate, slept and breathed this club. He would have sold his soul for it if he’d thought it would have helped, but as it was, it hadn’t come to that. The club had received good reviews already, and was being featured in gossip magazines as the place to be ‘spotted’ in. Helped along its way by some well-placed invitations to some current reality TV stars. The promise of the press and free alcohol had been all Erik needed to snare these fame hungry young people, that and a nice appearance fee that they couldn’t refuse.
But the success might have been sweeter if all of this belonged to Erik in its entirety, but unfortunately Erik had a silent partner in this venture, called Sebastian Shaw. He was a businessman, who’d had a lot of success in the city and had made a lot of money over the years. When he had decided that he wanted to open a club, he had wanted the best of everything, and that included Erik.
Erik had made it his business to bring a lot of money into London’s night scene. When a club wanted to re-brand itself, it was Erik they called. He was the best in the industry, having worked in clubs all his life. He had an eye for detail, a flair for the new and exciting, and whatever he touched seemed to turn into success. The deal Shaw had offered him had been to take his skills to the next level, and create something completely new. Hellfire was not just a club, it was whatever you wanted. If you had the money, every wish could be taken care of, and if you didn’t, you were invited to enjoy yourself, whilst those upstairs looked down and watched.
Erik watched a girl walk past him on stilts. She smiled down at him from on high, and then slipped into the crowd with ease. A little way off a man was entertaining slack mouthed drunken people by pressing grinders onto his metal covered body. Sparks were flying from him, and the show was impressive in its simplicity, it even held Erik’s attention for a while. He knew that it was the small unexpected things that kept people happy, and the girls on roller skates with the shot dispensers attached to their backs, ready to fire alcohol straight into the punters mouth, always went down a treat. All in all, Club Hellfire was a hit, and Erik surveyed his new empire with pride, the heavy bass pounding in time with his heart.
But it was Friday night, and that meant one thing. Charles Xavier would be already installed in his flat for the weekend, and if he went home now, he could probably catch him before he disappeared behind his bedroom door. Or, before he ran out the front door, into the dark night, and to the insanity of London’s West End.
Line Break
Charles Xavier was the last person Erik had expected to answer his advert. He still remembered the moment he had opened the door, to find the young man standing on the other side, his hand already outstretched in greeting.
“My name is Charles Xavier. I have come about the room,” he had said. Erik remembered feeling immediately struck by him, and had been almost ready to offer the room up there and then, but Charles had stopped him from making a fool of himself by continuing to speak. “I have references, and I never miss a rent payment. In fact I’ll pay by direct debit.”
Erik remembered them both just standing there, on either side of the door. Charles had continued to look at him with the bluest eyes Erik had ever seen, and a crooked smile on his face. He had been wearing pale chinos and a dark green polo shirt; it had had the little embroidered horse on the top left. Erik didn’t know how he had managed to recall those details now, but he just had to trust that Charles was one of those people that once seen, were never forgotten.
“Don’t you want to see the room first before you offer to give your money away?” Erik had asked.
“I already I know I’m going to like it,” Charles had replied. “But, yes, please show me the way.”
Charles had been right, he had liked the room, which was good, because Erik wasn’t sure he could have let him leave just then. Some months later Erik likened Charles to that one piece of furniture that made the room complete. It became so noticeable; that Erik only felt like this flat was a home when Charles was there for the weekend. Maybe it was because he had a reason to buy milk, or leave a fresh loaf of bread out in the kitchen, and fill the fridge up with something more than beer, microwave meals and other items of questionable edibility. Erik often felt that on a Friday morning he turned in a housewife for a few hours, grocery shopping, changing sheets and putting towels through the wash. Once he even spring cleaned the bathroom, but caught himself in his own madness, and resolved to stop being so weird. He considered employing a cleaner to do all of this for him, just so he could save face.
Erik didn’t know why he bothered. As charming as Charles was, he wasn’t the world’s tidiest of housemates. He left dirty dishes next to the dishwasher instead of putting them inside. He always squeezed toothpaste out from the top of the tube, and always seemed to be using the last of everything then putting the empty packets back, instead of throwing them away. When he washed his hands, he often dried them by wiping them on his trousers, and there were always boring magazines about genetics lying around the flat after he’d gone. Erik hadn’t even known there was a magazine devoted to something so singular, and the fact that there were people out there willing to buy it was even weirder.
After looking around once more, Erik found his head bartender and informed him that he was going home. Tomorrow, Saturday night, was going to taking up all his attention anyway. No sense tiring himself out tonight, he was better off going home and getting some well-deserved sleep. Or at least, this is what he told himself. It had nothing to do with wanting to see if Charles was there. Nothing at all.
Line Break
Charles unlocked the front door, and flicked the lights on. Like he had expected, Erik wasn’t home. Setting his bag down, knowing he was already causing disorder in Erik’s overly tidy lounge; Charles headed into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge door. Erik was a big fan of instant meals. Charles didn’t argue with him, since back on the Oxford campus, Charles found he depended upon the canteen to keep him alive. Cooking was something that seemed pointless to him, when you were only cooking for one. However, cooking for Erik was different. Charles found it relaxing, and there was pride in having someone enjoy what you made. Not that it happened all that often.
Staring into the fridge, Charles shut the door with a snap after removing a beer and picked up the phone instead. He decided to let the microwave have a night off and order some Chinese instead. An hour later, feeling content with the couple of cool beers and good food, Charles felt himself staring to doze in front of the TV. It was rerun of a quiz show, in which the jokes had lost their topical laughs. He considered turning it off, when the lock on the door clicked open and Erik strode in. For a moment, they seemed caught by each other’s unexpected presence. Erik closed the door behind him, but seemed no closer to unfreezing.
“You’re back early,” Charles said smiling.
“I could say the same. Shouldn’t you be out on the town by now?” Erik asked. He unzipped his leather jacket, and placed it over the back of the sofa, where Charles was sitting. His eyes raked over Charles, taking in every inch of him, and then drifting towards the cartons of food on the table.
“My date cancelled.”
“Bitch,” Erik replied. “Well, at least you didn’t miss Have I Got News For You.”
Charles looked back at the TV.
“Yeah, thank goodness,” Charles replied grinning as he looked back. “I couldn’t have lived otherwise. Are you hungry?”
It turned out that Erik was ravenous. In fact he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, it had been so long that his stomach had stopped alerting him to the fact, and ceased it’s grumbling. Charles watched was Erik picked up the same fork he had been using just moments before, and started demolishing the remains of the Chinese. Charles awoke a few minutes later, to find himself still on the sofa. Erik was flicking through the channels, but it was obvious there was nothing worth watching at this time of night, or rather, early morning. Stretching, Charles declared that he was off to bed.
“Want to get coffee when you’re awake?” he asked Erik, standing and stretching his arms above his head. “But not before midday alright.”
Erik watched the edge of Charles’ now crumpled shirt rise up to show an inch of his stomach. Erik’s eye caught on Charles’ right hip bone.
"Sure, i'll be here."
Chapter Two