you're bent over the grand piano
So, whatever, Fic Friday, um. What. No shaving fic today. Possibly Sunday? Uh. Schedules: so not my strong point. I'll try harder next week.
AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT: here is a tiny snippet of an entirely ridiculous thing that doesn't fit the tone of anything else I have done in this fandom at all. I blame pearl_o? Yes. Yes I do.
There's a knock at the cheap motel door.
"Eriiik," comes the sing song voice in the hallway, "I have a surprise for you!"
Somehow, the word surprise is stretched into something with several syllables too many, but with a twitch of his fingers, Erik unlocks the door and swings it open, anyway.
Charles, mussy haired, bright eyed, and vaguely damp, is looking up at him and beaming. And holding an ice bucket.
"Where were you?" Erik asks immediately, standing.
"Surprise!" Charles thrusts the ice bucket at him.
"If you run off without telling me where you go or when you'll be back, I have no way of knowing if something happens to you, Charles." Erik ignores the proffered--gift?--which is now pushing against his abdomen wetly, and instead closes the door behind Charles.
"You have to open the bucket," Charles says, "Or, you could--" Charles mimes out something jazzy with one hand, the other holding the ice bucket to his chest.
"Charles," Erik says, for what feels like the hundredth time, even though that's impossible, "Where did you go?"
"That, my friend, is for me to know--" Charles actually bounces his eyebrows, bounces them, "And you to find out." It's still progress, though, to have Charles acknowleging the question, so Erik counts this nonanswer as a win.
"You could get killed," Erik says, "Or kidnapped, or robbed, or beaten--"
"Oh, Erik," Charles sighs, suddenly putting down the ice bucket and turning his full attention on Erik, really on Erik, for the first time since entering the room. His hand follows, alighting softly on Erik's chest, gentle as a dove. After a moment of gazing at him, Charles quietly adds, "I appreciate the worry, I really do."
Erik shifts his weight slightly, from foot to foot.
"It's not worry, exactly," he mutters, "Just. Practical. That's all."
Charles gives him a warm and impossibly soft, pleased smile. It is painfully sincere, like so many of the smiles he gives him, and it makes Erik want to sit still before those lips forever even as it makes him want to stomp away with a scowl. If Charles were not Charles, those smiles would make Erik want to punch him in his stupidly red mouth, but if Charles were not Charles, then Erik supposes he wouldn't be around to be bothered by him.
"Well," Charles says lightly, backing off, as usual, once he's made Erik just a little uncomfortable (instead of before, never before, damn him), "I've managed to make it twenty-something odd years without a body gaurd, mm? I'll try to keep myself out of danger for a little while longer." From under exaggeratedly lowered lashes, he looks at Erik and adds, "There's just so much to live for now, after all."
Desperate for something to focus on--the undisguised affection Charles has for him, even in his more playful moments, makes Erik panic sometimes--Erik casts his eyes around the room, feels every metal stud in the wall, and then--
Frowns.
Concentrates a bit.
"Charles," he says, slowly, "Why are there handcuffs in the ice bucket?"
JSYK, I keep mine in the freezer. Yup.
AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT: here is a tiny snippet of an entirely ridiculous thing that doesn't fit the tone of anything else I have done in this fandom at all. I blame pearl_o? Yes. Yes I do.
There's a knock at the cheap motel door.
"Eriiik," comes the sing song voice in the hallway, "I have a surprise for you!"
Somehow, the word surprise is stretched into something with several syllables too many, but with a twitch of his fingers, Erik unlocks the door and swings it open, anyway.
Charles, mussy haired, bright eyed, and vaguely damp, is looking up at him and beaming. And holding an ice bucket.
"Where were you?" Erik asks immediately, standing.
"Surprise!" Charles thrusts the ice bucket at him.
"If you run off without telling me where you go or when you'll be back, I have no way of knowing if something happens to you, Charles." Erik ignores the proffered--gift?--which is now pushing against his abdomen wetly, and instead closes the door behind Charles.
"You have to open the bucket," Charles says, "Or, you could--" Charles mimes out something jazzy with one hand, the other holding the ice bucket to his chest.
"Charles," Erik says, for what feels like the hundredth time, even though that's impossible, "Where did you go?"
"That, my friend, is for me to know--" Charles actually bounces his eyebrows, bounces them, "And you to find out." It's still progress, though, to have Charles acknowleging the question, so Erik counts this nonanswer as a win.
"You could get killed," Erik says, "Or kidnapped, or robbed, or beaten--"
"Oh, Erik," Charles sighs, suddenly putting down the ice bucket and turning his full attention on Erik, really on Erik, for the first time since entering the room. His hand follows, alighting softly on Erik's chest, gentle as a dove. After a moment of gazing at him, Charles quietly adds, "I appreciate the worry, I really do."
Erik shifts his weight slightly, from foot to foot.
"It's not worry, exactly," he mutters, "Just. Practical. That's all."
Charles gives him a warm and impossibly soft, pleased smile. It is painfully sincere, like so many of the smiles he gives him, and it makes Erik want to sit still before those lips forever even as it makes him want to stomp away with a scowl. If Charles were not Charles, those smiles would make Erik want to punch him in his stupidly red mouth, but if Charles were not Charles, then Erik supposes he wouldn't be around to be bothered by him.
"Well," Charles says lightly, backing off, as usual, once he's made Erik just a little uncomfortable (instead of before, never before, damn him), "I've managed to make it twenty-something odd years without a body gaurd, mm? I'll try to keep myself out of danger for a little while longer." From under exaggeratedly lowered lashes, he looks at Erik and adds, "There's just so much to live for now, after all."
Desperate for something to focus on--the undisguised affection Charles has for him, even in his more playful moments, makes Erik panic sometimes--Erik casts his eyes around the room, feels every metal stud in the wall, and then--
Frowns.
Concentrates a bit.
"Charles," he says, slowly, "Why are there handcuffs in the ice bucket?"
JSYK, I keep mine in the freezer. Yup.