Fill: Downtown (Charles/Erik, Pretty Woman AU) 3d/?
anonymous
October 30 2011, 16:16:32 UTC
Fingers brushed his hand. Charles was suddenly kneeling at his side, looking up at him with heart-stopping earnestness.
‘Erik, do you want to go?’
He shrugged. Of course he did. He wanted the curtain and the lights and the thrum of excitement, and most of all he wanted the music with all its passion and power. It made no difference though, it was up to Charles what they did and where they went.
‘I like opera,’ he managed.
‘Oh, well then, that’s different!’ Charles said, delighted. If he’d had a tail he would have been wagging it excitedly. ‘I’m so glad, I’ve been wracking my brains to think of something you’d like. And you can talk to Dr Grey and it won’t matter that I’m so frightfully ignorant. Perfect.’ He dropped his eyes and smiled shyly. ‘Then it’s a date. ’
Erik opened his mouth to say, ‘you do remember I’m a prostitute, right? We’re really not dating.’ Then he realised that he was going to see La Traviata and all he could say was, ‘Thank you.’
***
‘Your young man is quite the opera buff,’ Dr Grey said, during the second interval. ‘Very well informed.’
‘Yes, I know, he loves it,’ Charles said. At least, he knew now. His eyes flicked towards the door to the box. Erik had stepped outside after the curtain came down, nominally to get a breath of air but more probably to hide the fact that he was tear-stained and sniffly.
‘I’m glad someone’s having fun.’ Dr Grey’s eyes narrowed. ‘Well, Xavier, let’s get on with it. How much are you offering for my company?’
Her voice was taut. He knew it had nothing to do with the money, if she lost Phoenix she’d lose her life’s work, her staff would lose their integrity and thousands of people would lose what little hope they had.
He started on the pitch. Then, about halfway through, he stopped. He couldn’t meet their eyes. ‘I really don’t want to be doing this, you know.’
‘Don’t you? Then don’t do it,’ Moira snapped.
‘I don’t know if there’s another way.’ There had to be. ‘I hope… I’m still working on it.’
‘Well keep working,’ Dr Grey told him sharply. She gave him one of her more piercing glances, which might have had a shade of approval in it. ‘At least you know what you’re talking about, which is more than most. I’ve read some of your articles. What are you doing wasting your time as a CEO?’
Charles looked down at his feet. He was beginning to wonder about that himself.
Erik slipped back into the box at the three minute bell. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I just needed to…’ He shrugged and insinuated his gorgeously tuxedoed form back into his seat with a watery, dazzling smile.
‘It’s good, isn’t it?’ Charles said inanely. He had no idea, the music was pretty but he wouldn’t mind having a few electron micrographs to analyse as he listened. Still, as act three progressed he realised that he’d be quite willing to sit through hours of the stuff. By the end he scarcely registered that the woman dying of tuberculosis had just sung at full volume for five minutes, because the last aria had set Erik’s eyes glistening again, and he’d taken Charles’s hand and held on tight.
Out in the street, after they’d handed the Doctors into a cab, he tried once more to prove that he wasn’t a total philistine when it came to music. ‘It was very artistic. I liked the… singing.’
Erik laughed. ‘Bullshit. You hated it,’ he said, ‘but what do you know? You’re an idiot who gets lost in LA and picks up prostitutes by accident. It was beautiful.’ He practically glowed under the streetlights, still the sexiest thing imaginable yet nothing like he’d looked on Hollywood Boulevard. It wasn’t the clothes, the hair, or the seductive pose. He looked happy.
‘Beautiful,’ Charles agreed weakly.
***
Erik was gentler that night. Afterwards, Charles lay nestled against him for a long time. ‘What’s your name?’ he said eventually.
‘James,’ Erik said. ‘Do you like that?’
Charles propped himself on one elbow to peer into his face. ‘You don’t look like a James.’
‘Erik, do you want to go?’
He shrugged. Of course he did. He wanted the curtain and the lights and the thrum of excitement, and most of all he wanted the music with all its passion and power. It made no difference though, it was up to Charles what they did and where they went.
‘I like opera,’ he managed.
‘Oh, well then, that’s different!’ Charles said, delighted. If he’d had a tail he would have been wagging it excitedly. ‘I’m so glad, I’ve been wracking my brains to think of something you’d like. And you can talk to Dr Grey and it won’t matter that I’m so frightfully ignorant. Perfect.’ He dropped his eyes and smiled shyly. ‘Then it’s a date. ’
Erik opened his mouth to say, ‘you do remember I’m a prostitute, right? We’re really not dating.’ Then he realised that he was going to see La Traviata and all he could say was, ‘Thank you.’
***
‘Your young man is quite the opera buff,’ Dr Grey said, during the second interval. ‘Very well informed.’
‘Yes, I know, he loves it,’ Charles said. At least, he knew now. His eyes flicked towards the door to the box. Erik had stepped outside after the curtain came down, nominally to get a breath of air but more probably to hide the fact that he was tear-stained and sniffly.
‘I’m glad someone’s having fun.’ Dr Grey’s eyes narrowed. ‘Well, Xavier, let’s get on with it. How much are you offering for my company?’
Her voice was taut. He knew it had nothing to do with the money, if she lost Phoenix she’d lose her life’s work, her staff would lose their integrity and thousands of people would lose what little hope they had.
He started on the pitch. Then, about halfway through, he stopped. He couldn’t meet their eyes. ‘I really don’t want to be doing this, you know.’
‘Don’t you? Then don’t do it,’ Moira snapped.
‘I don’t know if there’s another way.’ There had to be. ‘I hope… I’m still working on it.’
‘Well keep working,’ Dr Grey told him sharply. She gave him one of her more piercing glances, which might have had a shade of approval in it. ‘At least you know what you’re talking about, which is more than most. I’ve read some of your articles. What are you doing wasting your time as a CEO?’
Charles looked down at his feet. He was beginning to wonder about that himself.
Erik slipped back into the box at the three minute bell. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I just needed to…’ He shrugged and insinuated his gorgeously tuxedoed form back into his seat with a watery, dazzling smile.
‘It’s good, isn’t it?’ Charles said inanely. He had no idea, the music was pretty but he wouldn’t mind having a few electron micrographs to analyse as he listened. Still, as act three progressed he realised that he’d be quite willing to sit through hours of the stuff. By the end he scarcely registered that the woman dying of tuberculosis had just sung at full volume for five minutes, because the last aria had set Erik’s eyes glistening again, and he’d taken Charles’s hand and held on tight.
Out in the street, after they’d handed the Doctors into a cab, he tried once more to prove that he wasn’t a total philistine when it came to music. ‘It was very artistic. I liked the… singing.’
Erik laughed. ‘Bullshit. You hated it,’ he said, ‘but what do you know? You’re an idiot who gets lost in LA and picks up prostitutes by accident. It was beautiful.’ He practically glowed under the streetlights, still the sexiest thing imaginable yet nothing like he’d looked on Hollywood Boulevard. It wasn’t the clothes, the hair, or the seductive pose. He looked happy.
‘Beautiful,’ Charles agreed weakly.
***
Erik was gentler that night. Afterwards, Charles lay nestled against him for a long time. ‘What’s your name?’ he said eventually.
‘James,’ Erik said. ‘Do you like that?’
Charles propped himself on one elbow to peer into his face. ‘You don’t look like a James.’
‘Don’t I?’
‘No. Is it really…?’
‘No.’
***
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They have feelings!
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(Man, my captcha is actually a giant blur. Best guess, 'cases'. Wish me luck!)
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