Fill: Dead Men's Fingers 2b/?acidqueen31June 29 2011, 01:09:00 UTC
Charles smiled broadly as they turned down a slim country lane. “Well, we’re almost there. The house is just down this road…” He let out a cry of triumph as they rounded a corner. “Ah! Here we are.”
It was a mansion. It was a fucking mansion. Erik gaped at the house out the windshield, the blanket falling completely off him as he leaned forward. “Mein gott.”
“Oh. Yeah, I inherited it from my family.” Charles winced. “I lived in a two room flat back in Oxford, but they insisted I move in here when I came back to the States. My stepbrother didn’t want it, so…” He shrugged. “It’s got a great library, though.”
“What a hardship.” Erik kicked himself inwardly for not being able to hide his sarcasm, but Charles laughed and unclipped his seat belt.
“You must think me terribly overprivileged. I suppose I am, but I try not to let it go to my head.” They got out of the car. Erik winced at the gravel underneath his socked feet and hobbled after Charles, desperately missing his shoes. “Come inside, we’ll get into some dry clothes. I’m sure I have something in your size somewhere.”
Charles fumbled in his pocket, frowning as he dug deeper into his trousers. He checked his jacket and sighed.
“Damn, my keys must have fallen out in the water.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, I have master copies of everything.” Charles leaned on the bell and then added three short raps with the knocker as an afterthought.
A serious looking woman with straight dark hair answered the door. “If you’re selling something, I’m not intere-“ She blinked when she saw the two men huddled on her doorstep. “Oh. Charles. You’re late.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her forward for a kiss on the cheek. “And wet.”
“Sorry, love, I got a bit sidetracked on my way home from work.” He grabbed Erik’s wrist and dragged the three of them inside, heedless of his two companion’s confusion. Closing the heavy oak door behind them, he let a warm grin spread across his face and clapped his hands together.
“Erik, this is my fiancée, Moira McTaggart. Moira, this is my new friend Erik…” he trailed off.
“Lensherr.” Erik supplied helpfully, flushing. Charles grinned.
“Exactly. I stopped him jumping off the bridge about,” he checked his watch, “An hour ago. Well, I didn’t actually stop him. But I pulled him out.” He frowned at Moira. “The Hudson river is getting really polluted. Someone should do something about that.”
“Um.” Erik coughed uncomfortably, wishing he could disappear. Moira opened her mouth like she was about to be angry, but just rolled her eyes and helped Charles out of his coat.
“You should have taken this off earlier, you’re going to die of pneumonia.” She looked them over appraisingly. “Christ, you look like a pair of drowned rats. Go get some dry clothes and I’ll make a fire in the living room.” Frowning at her fiancé as she crossed her arms over her chest, she shot him a disapproving look. “Charles, we need to talk.”
“Sure, let me just set Erik up in a room.” He grabbed a hold of the taller man’s elbow. “Come on!”
Erik glanced at Moira as Charles bounded up the stairs. She half-smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
Fill: Dead Men's Fingers 3/?acidqueen31July 1 2011, 00:16:24 UTC
“I don’t understand you and your penchant for picking up strays, Charles.”
Charles frowned defensively. “Hey, my ‘penchant for strays’ is the reason my little sister has a good home and isn’t living out of a cardboard box on the street.”
Moira sighed. “You know I love Raven, Charles, don’t twist my words.” She sat down on the bed beside him. “What room did you put him in?”
“He’s up on the second floor, third room in the east wing. Why?” He blinked owlishly.
“Charles, what do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m being a good Samaritan.” He threw up his hands at her exasperated expression. “Come on, I couldn’t leave him out there! He could have died! I mean it’s cold, and he was wet, and I’m not going to leave someone who just attempted suicide to their own devices!”
“I understand, just…” She rubbed her face tiredly. “What if he’s some sort of ax murderer?”
Charles laughed. “Hardly. You saw him, Moira, he’s perfectly nice.” He knelt at his fiancée’s side, taking her hands in his. “He’s a good person. I can feel it when I look at him, I just know.”
“You’re too trusting.” She stood up, bringing him to his feet and pressing a kiss to his lips. “It’s sweet.”
He mock-pouted. “I should hope so.”
In his room in the east wing, Erik was trying to figure out if the sheets tied together would be able to hold his weight if he were to climb out through the window. Probably not, he decided, sitting back down on the bed.
He wanted to leave. Badly. The house was huge, ridiculously huge, and he felt horribly insignificant and out of place in it. Charles had managed to find him a pair of trousers and a t-shirt in a size that fit him pretty well, aside from the pants being a tad short. Erik knew he should have been grateful, and he was, but he couldn’t stop the shame blossoming in his chest. He was not a man who relied on others. He was not a man who asked for help, ever.
Maybe that’s why you’re broke and homeless, a voice hissed in his head. Maybe if you weren’t so stubborn and prideful you wouldn’t be so pathetic.
Erik frowned and smothered the voice with an imaginary pillow. There was a knock on the door and he jumped, startled.
“Erik? Are you alright?” Charles called through the door. Erik tugged at the shirt he was wearing self-consciously.
“Yes, I’m fine.” He paused. “Thank you.”
“I was just wondering, do you want something to eat?”
Erik’s stomach growled angrily. “No, I’m not hungry.”
“Are you sure?” It was clear from Charles’ tone of voice that he knew Erik was lying. “Really, it’s no trouble at all, I was going to get a snack myself.”
“I-” Erik twisted the edge of the comforter absently. “I suppose. If you’re going to, then… uh…”
The door swung open and Charles strode in, grinning broadly and grabbing Erik’s hand. “Groovy! Come on, the kitchen is this way.”
As Charles dragged him down the plush, carpeted hallway, Erik couldn’t help but wonder why every second he spent with the smaller man made him feel completely disoriented. The man was like a tiny, idealistic tornado and for some reason he made Erik Lensherr, who had never willingly followed the lead of anyone, tag along behind him like he had been hypnotized.
Fill: Dead Men's Fingers 4/?acidqueen31July 21 2011, 13:01:23 UTC
“You haven’t given me a straight answer yet.” Erik said to Charles over the kitchen table. Charles paused, his spoon laden with granola and dripping milk over his bowl, frozen halfway on its journey to his mouth. He raised an eyebrow.
“To what?”
“Why did you stop me?”
Charles set his spoon down, re-submerging the cereal. “Because I couldn’t let you die.”
“Yes, but why?” It had started to get frustrating- Erik was sure Charles knew what he meant, but he had been evading giving his reasons for his impromptu rescue every time Erik brought it up. The younger man smiled crookedly and returned his attention to his bowl, taking a mouthful of what must have been rather soggy granola.
“This is hardly a breakfast conversation, Erik. Can we discuss it later?”
Erik stood and carried his plate to the sink, quietly seething. He could feel aggravation roiling in the pit of his stomach as he scraped the charred remains of his toast into the aluminum bowl Charles kept on the counter for scraps of leftover food (something about food for worms and fertile soil for Moira’s gardening). From the moment he woke up Erik knew that it was one of those days, and he’d had a hard time dragging himself out of bed at all. It was particularly bad, as it inevitably always was when he got into this sort of mood- the sudden switch from euphoric happiness and adrenaline to low, black feelings and a body that seemed constantly tired and weak was jarring to say the least.
And he had been doing well until today. He’d spent nearly a week at Xavier’s house (it was a mansion, really, but the man acted like it was nothing more than an apartment and almost seemed embarrassed of it at times) and, despite his obviously incongruous presence in the already clearly defined lives of Charles and Moira, he had started to feel nearly comfortable.
They were both professors, Erik had learned through dinner conversations with his hosts, Charles of genetics and Moira of anthropology. Charles was currently on sabbatical to work on a book, though he seemed awfully vague on the actual subject he was writing about. As such, he stayed at home while Moira went off to the college in the mornings. Erik had been surprised to see him the first morning when he stumbled downstairs looking for the way out, only to find Charles blocking the door with a cup of milky tea and a smile.
Then Charles had taken him shopping. It was weird, and awkward, and insane, but Erik found himself with a wardrobe of new clothes. He had taken an hour-long shower that afternoon when they got back from the shops and to Charles’ delight had emerged from his room looking halfway human.
Erik turned back to the table and wondered why he felt so miserable. Again.
Charles looked up from his granola, blue eyes keen. “Are you alright, Erik?”
Erik glanced at the concerned professor and felt his gut twist as he focused in on his glossy lips, on the sliver of exposed flesh at his unbuttoned collar. He felt sick as lust spiked dully through his spine.
He shook his head and stood up. “I’m fine, Charles. Just a headache.”
It was clear from the way Charles cocked his eyebrows that he knew Erik was lying, but he didn’t push the matter further. “Can I get you anything for it? Tea? Aspirin?” He quirked a smile and gestured towards the study upstairs where they had played chess the previous night, aided by the liquor cabinet secreted away in one of the bookshelves. “Whiskey?”
“No.” Erik said, a little more forcefully than was needed. “I’m-“ His voice faltered and he pressed a hand to his face for a second, counting to ten in his head. “I’m going to go back to bed.”
Charles nodded, his face serious and tender. It looked like pity to Erik; it made him want to scream. “I understand. I hope you feel better soon, my friend.”
Erik muttered a gruff thank you and practically bolted out of the room, his hands shaking uncontrollably.
It was a mansion. It was a fucking mansion. Erik gaped at the house out the windshield, the blanket falling completely off him as he leaned forward. “Mein gott.”
“Oh. Yeah, I inherited it from my family.” Charles winced. “I lived in a two room flat back in Oxford, but they insisted I move in here when I came back to the States. My stepbrother didn’t want it, so…” He shrugged. “It’s got a great library, though.”
“What a hardship.” Erik kicked himself inwardly for not being able to hide his sarcasm, but Charles laughed and unclipped his seat belt.
“You must think me terribly overprivileged. I suppose I am, but I try not to let it go to my head.” They got out of the car. Erik winced at the gravel underneath his socked feet and hobbled after Charles, desperately missing his shoes. “Come inside, we’ll get into some dry clothes. I’m sure I have something in your size somewhere.”
Charles fumbled in his pocket, frowning as he dug deeper into his trousers. He checked his jacket and sighed.
“Damn, my keys must have fallen out in the water.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, I have master copies of everything.” Charles leaned on the bell and then added three short raps with the knocker as an afterthought.
A serious looking woman with straight dark hair answered the door. “If you’re selling something, I’m not intere-“ She blinked when she saw the two men huddled on her doorstep. “Oh. Charles. You’re late.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her forward for a kiss on the cheek. “And wet.”
“Sorry, love, I got a bit sidetracked on my way home from work.” He grabbed Erik’s wrist and dragged the three of them inside, heedless of his two companion’s confusion. Closing the heavy oak door behind them, he let a warm grin spread across his face and clapped his hands together.
“Erik, this is my fiancée, Moira McTaggart. Moira, this is my new friend Erik…” he trailed off.
“Lensherr.” Erik supplied helpfully, flushing. Charles grinned.
“Exactly. I stopped him jumping off the bridge about,” he checked his watch, “An hour ago. Well, I didn’t actually stop him. But I pulled him out.” He frowned at Moira. “The Hudson river is getting really polluted. Someone should do something about that.”
“Um.” Erik coughed uncomfortably, wishing he could disappear. Moira opened her mouth like she was about to be angry, but just rolled her eyes and helped Charles out of his coat.
“You should have taken this off earlier, you’re going to die of pneumonia.” She looked them over appraisingly. “Christ, you look like a pair of drowned rats. Go get some dry clothes and I’ll make a fire in the living room.” Frowning at her fiancé as she crossed her arms over her chest, she shot him a disapproving look. “Charles, we need to talk.”
“Sure, let me just set Erik up in a room.” He grabbed a hold of the taller man’s elbow. “Come on!”
Erik glanced at Moira as Charles bounded up the stairs. She half-smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Yes, he’s always like this.”
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“I don’t understand you and your penchant for picking up strays, Charles.”
Charles frowned defensively. “Hey, my ‘penchant for strays’ is the reason my little sister has a good home and isn’t living out of a cardboard box on the street.”
Moira sighed. “You know I love Raven, Charles, don’t twist my words.” She sat down on the bed beside him. “What room did you put him in?”
“He’s up on the second floor, third room in the east wing. Why?” He blinked owlishly.
“Charles, what do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m being a good Samaritan.” He threw up his hands at her exasperated expression. “Come on, I couldn’t leave him out there! He could have died! I mean it’s cold, and he was wet, and I’m not going to leave someone who just attempted suicide to their own devices!”
“I understand, just…” She rubbed her face tiredly. “What if he’s some sort of ax murderer?”
Charles laughed. “Hardly. You saw him, Moira, he’s perfectly nice.” He knelt at his fiancée’s side, taking her hands in his. “He’s a good person. I can feel it when I look at him, I just know.”
“You’re too trusting.” She stood up, bringing him to his feet and pressing a kiss to his lips. “It’s sweet.”
He mock-pouted. “I should hope so.”
In his room in the east wing, Erik was trying to figure out if the sheets tied together would be able to hold his weight if he were to climb out through the window. Probably not, he decided, sitting back down on the bed.
He wanted to leave. Badly. The house was huge, ridiculously huge, and he felt horribly insignificant and out of place in it. Charles had managed to find him a pair of trousers and a t-shirt in a size that fit him pretty well, aside from the pants being a tad short. Erik knew he should have been grateful, and he was, but he couldn’t stop the shame blossoming in his chest. He was not a man who relied on others. He was not a man who asked for help, ever.
Maybe that’s why you’re broke and homeless, a voice hissed in his head. Maybe if you weren’t so stubborn and prideful you wouldn’t be so pathetic.
Erik frowned and smothered the voice with an imaginary pillow. There was a knock on the door and he jumped, startled.
“Erik? Are you alright?” Charles called through the door. Erik tugged at the shirt he was wearing self-consciously.
“Yes, I’m fine.” He paused. “Thank you.”
“I was just wondering, do you want something to eat?”
Erik’s stomach growled angrily. “No, I’m not hungry.”
“Are you sure?” It was clear from Charles’ tone of voice that he knew Erik was lying. “Really, it’s no trouble at all, I was going to get a snack myself.”
“I-” Erik twisted the edge of the comforter absently. “I suppose. If you’re going to, then… uh…”
The door swung open and Charles strode in, grinning broadly and grabbing Erik’s hand. “Groovy! Come on, the kitchen is this way.”
As Charles dragged him down the plush, carpeted hallway, Erik couldn’t help but wonder why every second he spent with the smaller man made him feel completely disoriented. The man was like a tiny, idealistic tornado and for some reason he made Erik Lensherr, who had never willingly followed the lead of anyone, tag along behind him like he had been hypnotized.
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So ridiculous and cute. ♥
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Also - great description of Erik point of view.
Can't wait for more :D
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“To what?”
“Why did you stop me?”
Charles set his spoon down, re-submerging the cereal. “Because I couldn’t let you die.”
“Yes, but why?” It had started to get frustrating- Erik was sure Charles knew what he meant, but he had been evading giving his reasons for his impromptu rescue every time Erik brought it up. The younger man smiled crookedly and returned his attention to his bowl, taking a mouthful of what must have been rather soggy granola.
“This is hardly a breakfast conversation, Erik. Can we discuss it later?”
Erik stood and carried his plate to the sink, quietly seething. He could feel aggravation roiling in the pit of his stomach as he scraped the charred remains of his toast into the aluminum bowl Charles kept on the counter for scraps of leftover food (something about food for worms and fertile soil for Moira’s gardening). From the moment he woke up Erik knew that it was one of those days, and he’d had a hard time dragging himself out of bed at all. It was particularly bad, as it inevitably always was when he got into this sort of mood- the sudden switch from euphoric happiness and adrenaline to low, black feelings and a body that seemed constantly tired and weak was jarring to say the least.
And he had been doing well until today. He’d spent nearly a week at Xavier’s house (it was a mansion, really, but the man acted like it was nothing more than an apartment and almost seemed embarrassed of it at times) and, despite his obviously incongruous presence in the already clearly defined lives of Charles and Moira, he had started to feel nearly comfortable.
They were both professors, Erik had learned through dinner conversations with his hosts, Charles of genetics and Moira of anthropology. Charles was currently on sabbatical to work on a book, though he seemed awfully vague on the actual subject he was writing about. As such, he stayed at home while Moira went off to the college in the mornings. Erik had been surprised to see him the first morning when he stumbled downstairs looking for the way out, only to find Charles blocking the door with a cup of milky tea and a smile.
Then Charles had taken him shopping. It was weird, and awkward, and insane, but Erik found himself with a wardrobe of new clothes. He had taken an hour-long shower that afternoon when they got back from the shops and to Charles’ delight had emerged from his room looking halfway human.
Erik turned back to the table and wondered why he felt so miserable. Again.
Charles looked up from his granola, blue eyes keen. “Are you alright, Erik?”
Erik glanced at the concerned professor and felt his gut twist as he focused in on his glossy lips, on the sliver of exposed flesh at his unbuttoned collar. He felt sick as lust spiked dully through his spine.
He shook his head and stood up. “I’m fine, Charles. Just a headache.”
It was clear from the way Charles cocked his eyebrows that he knew Erik was lying, but he didn’t push the matter further. “Can I get you anything for it? Tea? Aspirin?” He quirked a smile and gestured towards the study upstairs where they had played chess the previous night, aided by the liquor cabinet secreted away in one of the bookshelves. “Whiskey?”
“No.” Erik said, a little more forcefully than was needed. “I’m-“ His voice faltered and he pressed a hand to his face for a second, counting to ten in his head. “I’m going to go back to bed.”
Charles nodded, his face serious and tender. It looked like pity to Erik; it made him want to scream. “I understand. I hope you feel better soon, my friend.”
Erik muttered a gruff thank you and practically bolted out of the room, his hands shaking uncontrollably.
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YOU HAVE UPDATED YOU ARE MY HERO
I AM NOT KIDDING EVERY TIME I COME TO THIS MEME I LOOK AT THIS ONE TO SEE IF IT HAS UPDATED
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I love vague professor!Charles and Erik's depression is heartwrenching to see. So glad you're writing more! Cannot wait to see where this goes :D
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