Zweiundachtzig - Part 1

[ameonna1]

Zweiundachtzig

Erik M. Lehnsherr meets Raven Darkhölme on a Sunday afternoon. He knows it’s her because she’s blue and currently engaged in screaming at some poor sap who is fleeing down the front stairs of the brick building who’s address Erik has clutched in his hand.

“Get out, you xenophobic asshole! This isn’t some freak show! What the hell do you think I mean by ‘serious inquires only’?”

He blinks for a moment before furious golden eyes alight on him and he swallows. The article he’d answered from the local paper did mention that the space to let was in Chelsea, an area well known for it’s mutant population. Erik hadn’t seen a problem with that. The space was affordable and supposedly large enough for his work, nothing else mattered.

“Can I help you?”

“I am Erik Lehnsherr, I think we spoke on the phone?”

She’s in a gray turtleneck and a pencil skirt and Erik is trying to not stare but she looks like a sapphire in the sun. Her red hair gleams as she leans against the doorway.

“You’re early. You aren’t supposed to be here until a quarter after two.”

“My truck is in the shop. I took the bus. It was either half an hour late or twenty minutes early.”

She frowns at him and he gets the distinct impression that he’s being sized up. He knows he’s a rather large man, broad shouldered and his smile tends to make people nervous because he never quite learned how to do it properly. So he stays quiet and rolls his shoulder, slipping the bit of paper into the pocket of his jacket.




“The space is eight hundred square feet, with a bathroom and a sink. No stove. No fridge. Three windows looking out to the alley. Your half of the rent would be two thousand and utilities, I will not ‘comp’ you or ‘cut you a deal’. I don’t care if you sleep there, but I work pretty much whenever I damn well please. I expect you to be quiet, clean and not a pervert. There’s a dance studio below us and a glass blower and a physics major above us. I’m a mutant, they’re mutants. Mutants come and visit, is any of this going to be a problem?”

Her arms are crossed and Erik considers all the points she gave him before he smiles, very carefully as to not show too much teeth and says, “I don’t see how any of that will be a problem.”

That’s how he finds himself walking up a creaky but sturdy set of stairs, (the elevator works about forty percent of the time and is usually used as storage,) and past the wide open doors where a dozen ballerinas are stretching. Only one with blond hair and a curving pair of dark horns smiles as he walks by. Raven pushes a turquoise painted door open, the symbol of peace emblazoned in gold on the front.

Half the studio is set up for painting. Huge canvases covered in a riot of color and texture. One is wet and the scent of oil paint still hangs in the air. It’s comforting and for a brief moment he sees Piotr out in the shed, layering varnish over a bookshelf or rocking chair.

The space is bigger than he imagined in his head. The wide wall by the window is more than enough for his bench and there are cabinets by the sink that are only half full. He would be able to set up a place for casting quite easily.

“So, what do you want the space for?” Raven asks, her arms still crossed.

“I am a jeweler, and the space I’m working from now is far too small. I need somewhere I can cast metal.”

She looks at him curiously, like most people do when he tells them what he does.

“I reserve the right to put you on a one month trial period,” Raven says from where she’s sat in front of the drying painting.

It’s all wild golds and oranges. There’s the low thump of music from upstairs, but it feel safe. It feels alright. Alles wird gut.

“That is acceptable.”

oOo

Raven proves to be more than a companionable roommate. She plays jazz on a little radio in the corner, but it’s down low and she’s quiet. She doesn’t bother him when he’s working. But he knows she watches. He never thought that jewelry making was interesting enough to watch. It comes so easily to him, doing anything basic is rather more a chore than fascinating to him. But that’s what takes up most of his time, silver rings and engravings. Setting stones and repairing ancient pieces that once belonged to someones Grandmother or Aunt.

Over the course of two months he divines that Raven has a brother who calls her every Friday. The dance studio is run by a woman named Angel and above them live Sean and Hank. Sean blows glass with a kiln on the roof of the building but keeps a room with Hank. Hank is huge, blue, furry and blushes furiously whenever Raven pays him any attention. He knows that Hank is a certified genius, as explained to him by Sean as he worked to free the kid from the metal cage of the elevator that had gotten stuck, again. The strange noises and once a rather violent explosion come from Hank’s experiments which he assures everyone are legal. Erik is dubious of that, but Hank is nice and he brings back sandwiches from the deli down the road when he goes out.

The situation is ideal. Erik had blushed when Raven told everyone in the building that he was socially awkward and they should leave him alone. Apparently what she says goes, because no one in the building really bothers him past asking him if he’s going to want lunch or if he’ll lock up when he’s done. It suits him just fine.

Then Angel asks if he can repair a pair of earrings for her. The design is simple enough and she can pay up front so he doesn’t see any problem with it. He is not prepared for how the women of the building gush over them. Now as he works there are inquires and ballerinas but Raven shoo’s everyone out of the room before he gets entirely too flustered.

It strange, he hasn’t been around this many people in years. Not since Kitty and Piotr. He’s lived in New York for six years now but the people were just strangers, empty faces and names he could forget in a moments time. He bites the inside of his cheek when he realizes that Sean has handed him a hamburger with no onions and Swiss cheese without him saying anything. He wasn’t expecting this. He’s not sure he likes it.

oOo

It’s another Sunday when he hears Raven call for him and when he turns, frowning at being interrupted, he hears a distinct click and watches her doing something on her cellphone.

“Did you just take my picture?” He says, reaching up to turn off his torch.

“My brother was demanding to know just who exactly I share my studio with. He was becoming quite annoying about it.”

“He sounds like he’s just bored,” Erik remarks as he stands to wash his hands and stretch. From what Raven made it sound like her brother was some sort of academic who frequently found himself chair of some committee or another and was usually texting Raven in lieu of actually working.

“He’s doing some guest thing at Brown. We’re gonna get dinner later with Hank and Sean, you want in?”

He politely declines because he always does when she asks him to attend something that’s outside the world that is their studio, but Raven always asks him. He’s not sure if it’s just become habit over the last three months or if she actually expects him to accept one day.

“Oh!” She squeaks as she jumps up, going to hover in his personal space by the sink.

“Whatever it is, no.”

“I haven’t even said anything yet. I wanted to commission you,” she grins when she says it and he raises an eyebrow.

His commissions are ridiculously expensive and one of a kind. He’d done three since he opened for business and they paid his rent quite nicely. He won’t ask if she can afford it, the words ‘trust fund’ and ‘old money’ has been bandied around Raven frequently enough for him to know that she’s dropping two thousand dollars a month on a hobby while she takes whatever courses she fancies at Columbia. The studio essentially being a glorified tree house escape for her. He thinks he’s only there to make the space seem less lonely.

“For what?” He asks, as designs come unbidden from the back of his mind.

“My brother bullied me into going to some ridiculous charity thing next month. Is that going to be enough time?”

“It depends on the complexity of the piece. What did you have in mind?” Erik dries his hands and looks up to see Raven shrug.

“I like all of your original stuff. Do whatever you want.”

That’s the first time he heard that. He thinks for a moment before he looks at her. “What will you be wearing?”

It takes her a few seconds to pull up an image on her phone of a strapless coral colored gown. It isn’t very embellished, the accessories would be important.

“It’s gonna be at some observatory down south.”

An observatory. An image alights in his mind and he flexes his fingers. “Sixty thousand,” he says. “Earrings and a necklace, platinum and various gemstones. It will be ready in two weeks.”

“Excellent!” Raven gives him a sloppy kiss on the side of his head, giggling as he curses in German and wipes his cheek.

She grabs her jacket as he hears the familiar banging from Sean upstairs signaling that it’s time for ‘pre-gaming’ or whatever that is. He rolls his eyes as she waves. Trust funds.

oOo

It’s late when he lets himself back into the studio. He flicks on the lights and leaves his jacket on the hook by the door. The building is silent. Sean and Hank won’t be back for hours and Raven even later if she’s spending time with her brother.

It only takes him a moment to gather the metal and stones he needs. He sits at his bench and shakes out a scatter of diamonds. He doesn’t light his torch and the neat boxes containing his tools remain shut in the bottom of their drawer.

Instead he takes the long rods of platinum and slides his fingers over them, feeling the pull of the metal. It twists under his hands, writhes and snakes around gems, gathering them, lichtpunkte, points of light. He works quietly until dawn, the metal letting him tell it what he wants it to become.

oOo

Raven is shouting over the phone two weeks later, something about how she is absolutely not going to be caught dead seen with someone again and all the normal things that girls her age talk about.

She hangs up rather abruptly when she sees the box he left on her desk. He hopes whoever was on the other end of the phone was either a good friend or a very not good one.

“It’s finished?” She asks, her hands sliding along the edges of the wooden box, the blue of her scales reflecting the afternoon sun.

“If it were not, it would not be on your desk,” Erik hums over the ring he’s working on, setting emeralds in careful rows.

Raven makes a face at him but he ignores her in favor of concentrating on the ring. Emeralds were a soft stone, they could chip or shatter if one stopped paying them mind. Very needy things. She gasps when she opens the box and he finishes the row of stones he’s working on.

“Holy shit, Erik. This is amazing.”




“I should hope so, you paid enough for it.”

“And I’ve seen your portfolio enough times to know you under charged me.”

Erik shrugs as he stands, stretches and goes to stand besides Raven with his hands in his pockets, as relaxed as he can be.

He made her a galaxy. A spiral of platinum studded with diamonds and moonstone, swirling around a large crystal opal. The metal stretches up and around, hinged so she can put it on with ease but it keeps the illusion that it’s one piece. The earrings are opals as well, with a cascade of dangling stones curving off them, shooting stars to match the galaxy.

Raven is suitably impressed and makes ridiculous noises at him the rest of the day. Sean is baffled as to why Erik is not, his words, ‘knee deep in pussy at all times’. Hank is astounded by the physics of the piece and Erik blames the burning pride that has lodged itself in his chest when he finds himself agreeing to go out with them. He barely says yes before the next thing he knows he’s in the back of Raven’s tiny car discussing the Oxford comma with Hank and Sean is rattling off names to restaurants that Erik’s never heard of.

They end up getting gyros because it’s the only thing that they can all agree on. Erik speaks all the Greek he knows only his accent is terrible and keeps wanting to turn German. Sean laughs so hard he starts squeaking and they push him into the car before the entire restaurant is staring at them. By the end of the evening all four of them are up on the roof with a case of terrible domestic beer, trying to find stars that they can all barely see. They argue about constellations and Erik tells them about Cassiopeia and Coma Berenices. That launches them into a long conversation about myths and the Metamorphoses, but that ends when Sean proclaims that they’re all a bunch of nerds and drags Raven off to see his new piece.

Hank is making a pyramid of beer cans, leaning forward in the creaking patio chair that Sean got from some thrift shop, and it’s when he speaks, “You’re very educated. Where did you go to school?” That Erik remembers why having friends are difficult and he frowns.

Usually he wouldn’t answer something so personal. He’d deflect it or find an excuse to leave. But it’s just him and Hank and, verdammt, he likes Hank. He likes this silly group of children.

“I was home schooled,” he answers because it’s the kindest words he can put together.

He can’t read Hank’s expression between the fairy lights and the fur. “Where? I think Raven said you were from-”

“Düsseldorf.” Erik answers without hesitation. He’s told people that before. He still has too much of an accent to pretend he’s local.

Hank whistles low and carefully adjusts the can in his hand before he places it, “That must have been an interesting place to grow up.”

He could nod, he should nod and leave it at that. Change the subject, ask Hank about his new experiment or ask his advice on constructing a centrifuge caster. What comes out of his mouth is, “I was only born there. I grew up somewhere else.”

The answer is halted and cagey. He frowns over his beer when Hank looks up. There’s curiosity on his face along with confusion and he smiles. “Oh, okay, where did you grow up?”

“I don’t know,” Erik says and swallows against the silence as confusion overtakes all of Hank and he opens his mouth- But then there’s a shriek and a crash and Raven runs by laughing with Sean behind her. The moment is lost as Erik finishes his beer as he stands quickly to see what the pair had done.

Hank looks at him oddly in the days after that, but he doesn’t pry. Erik hears him and Raven talking in hushed tones here and there in the hall when they think he isn’t paying attention. But there isn’t any pity in his eyes, so Erik lets it lie. He’s their puzzle, they are his.

oOo

A puzzle that turns out to be much larger than Erik imagined. He’s home, if he can call this box home. Three hundred square feet, a bed, a television and a mini fridge with a hot plate on it. He spends more of his time at the studio now. He’s only here because he doesn’t have much work and Raven was gone all day. Sean succumbed to a burrito that Erik had warned him had been in the shared freezer for God knows how long and Hank was doing something with liquid nitrogen that Erik wanted far away from.

He eats brown rice out of a little white container and flicks through the three channels his scavenged television gets. An old movie, news, and public access. He’s about to flick back to the movie and squint at it. Take the time to find out what language it’s in and if it’s subtitled when he sees her.

Raven. The first thing he thinks is that she looks ridiculous. Her blue and her scales gone, somehow replaced by plain human flesh. She has blond hair that’s pinned up in brilliant curls and even if he doubted it was her he knows his necklace and the coral dress she showed him. What on Earth? He fumbles for the remote as he hurries to turn up the volume and blinks.

Raven Xavier, the announcer says. Raven Xavier, sister to Charles Xavier. The camera pans back and he sees him. Professor Charles Francis Xavier, one of the leading names in genetics and the study of mutants as a species. The man that speaks at colleges and on the floor of congress. Young, charismatic, and... He’s in some ridiculously expensive tuxedo, with his hair gelled. Sitting straight backed in that famous wheelchair, all clean lines and smooth corners.




He watches until it cuts to the presenter talking about scholarships and the MacTaggart Foundation. When they start going on about statistics and how many mutants are in college now he turns the TV off. He picks through his food and carefully packs aways what he doesn’t eat.

He can’t ask himself why she didn’t tell him. What he hasn’t told her could fill volumes. It has filled volumes.

oOo

Raven is rather spectacularly hungover the next day when she drags herself into the studio. It’s afternoon but Erik has made sure that there is coffee and that Sean hasn’t destroyed the entire box of doughnuts before she got there.

He carefully works the silver pieces he cast the day before out of their rubber molds as Raven grumbles and mixes coffee in that horribly ugly owl shaped mug she has.

“How was the ‘charity thing’?” Erik asks as she flops down on her desk getting charcoal in her red hair.

“Apparently there’s after parties,” Raven mumbles on her sketches and Erik smiles.

Erik smiles as Raven starts complaining about how these people are academics and activists. They’re supposed to represent the best of humanity and how the hell are they able to drink that much?

It’s out of his mouth before he thinks about it, because he’s honestly curious, “Did your brother get drunk?”

“No,” Raven smiles something soft and almost sad around the edges. “He doesn’t drink. He used to when he was in college but now he’s got too much on his plate.”

It’s half a lie, something too smooth around the edges and Erik’s curious, sure, but he doesn’t push. They haven’t pushed with him.

“We should go get lunch,” Raven says, squirming around in her chair to look at him without taking her head off the desk.

“You’ve been here for all of three minutes.”

“It’s nice outside, and Gambit’s will be making beignets by now.”

“Beignets aren’t lunch,” Erik frowns over the pendants he’s setting up on a wire rack to go into the ultrasonic.

“That’s not what you said last week.”

He makes what he thinks is his disapproving face as he heads to his bench and sits but there must be something else that showed with it because Raven sits up and frowns.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or am I going to have to play charades with you all day to figured it out?”

He considers charades and he considers what’s actually bothering him. It’s not that she didn’t tell him. It might be why she didn’t. He had thought there was some sort of trust there, as fragile as it was and he hadn’t realized how much he had depended on it until it was shaken.

Erik opens his mouth and then closes it, the words not finding their way in his head from German to English and out. Raven stands as he knows he’s making that face he makes when he’s run into something that he can’t articulate. He grumbles when Raven flops across his back, words fleeing as he tenses and then forces himself to relax, because it’s just Raven. But he still grits his teeth when she starts poking the side of his head and ear. He growls, trying to shake her off but she’s a damned limpet when she wants to be.

“Don’t be a jerk, Erik. Tell me.”

“I saw you on the television last night,” he says quickly enough that Raven pauses to decipher it before she groans and drops her head against the back of his neck.

“Shit, I was wondering how you were gonna find out.”

“I would have liked to found out when you told me,” he snaps and instantly regrets it.

But Raven huffs and wraps her arms around him better. A real hug, not the teasing clinging of before. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it. I didn’t think you’d care.”

He waits a moment before he brings his hand up and squeezes her forearm where it crosses his chest. “I didn’t think I would care either.”




Raven laughs a small laugh and slides off him. “Okay, I guess we just established that we’re both kind of bad at this whole friends thing. Maybe we should try harder.”

Erik nods because, yes, he would like that. He would like the feeling of not being in the dark, of someone being able to trust him. Maybe if he could manage that he could work on getting it going both ways.

“Okay,” Raven claps her hands together like shes planning midterms. “First, beignets. Then I’ll tell you about Raven Xavier, but you have to give something up to.”

He cringes, but it’s fair. It’s very fair and his stomach churns as Raven leans over his bench and scoots a half finished ring across his workspace. “You have to tell me why the elevator only ever works when you’re in it.”

His eyes widen because, she can’t know. He’s usually so careful but... But he’s been getting lax around her and Sean and Hank. How stupid. How dangerous...

“We’re all hiding here,” Raven says suddenly. “One way or another, we’re all hiding and it’s okay.”

It’s okay. Alles wird gut. She takes his hands in hers and he wants to tell her that he likes her better this way, blue and scaled and beautiful. But he has no room to talk. The metal in the room sings around him and he tries to hush it.

oOo

Three months pass before he makes the actual acquaintance of Charles Xavier. The entire day is gray and cold. The heat in the studio had crapped out and after ten calls to the landlord he’d found himself in the basement trying to coax the furnace back to life with Hank by his side. There had been mixed results and the consensus was that they go to the hardware store then regroup for dinner.

He’s halfway to his truck, parked across the street, when he hears the singing scream of metal in the air. The following thud and grunt of it meeting flesh is his own hearing, not the thrum he feels in his chest.

Erik spins before he has a chance to actually see with his eyes. There, in the alley between their building and the one next to it. A metal bat coming back up in an arc, zippers, buttons, rivets on jeans. Two figures standing, one is wearing a cross, another an earring. The one in a crumpled ball on the alley floor has a plain chain on.

Without another thought Erik makes a fist and the bat sails into the kid’s face that’s swinging it. There’s a shout as he approaches and it’s a tiny hum, a small shriek that alerts him. The other one has a two by four, with a staple in the end and that bit of metal is the only reason that Erik gets his arm up fast enough to deflect the blow that would have busted his face open.

It just adrenaline that pushes him to grab the board and wrench it out of the kid’s hands with enough furious anger on his face that the pair of them are scrambling to get up. Erik hears the bat hitting the concrete and the sound of footsteps pounding away in the distance.

Erik swallows before he drops the board and turns his attention to the kid on the ground. He’s still conscious, gasping and coughing. A pretty face covered in tears, that’s quickly turning black and blue. He’s left his phone in the studio and he doesn’t want to leave...

“Erik?”

Thank God, “Hank!”

“What the hell!?” The big beast is there in moments and Erik tries to not smile. “Erik, what happened?”

“They were beating him,” Erik breathes and blinks as his vision goes a bit spotty.

Hank has his hand on Erik’s shoulder, shoving him up against the building before he can collapse because all of a sudden the numbness in his arm is becoming a brilliant hot white pain. He breathes through his nose and tries to not throw up. Hank is on the phone and after a bit Hank lets him slide down the wall and sit.

Things sort of blur after that. He knows Raven comes down and sits shoulder to shoulder with him. The boy he’s saved is called Alex, Hank kneels by him saying he shouldn’t be moved and after who knows how long an ambulance comes.

Erik is fine until they get to the hospital, because he knows he has to go in there. His arm needs to be looked at and he’s fine, he’s a grown man and he’s fine... He whimpers when Hank tries to help him out of Raven’s tiny car and he thinks he shouts something but it isn’t in English. There are figures rushing around the car and he doesn’t want to let go of the seat belt. Not again, please not again. He’ll be good, he swears, please.

There are arms on him, around him and he makes a noise like a child, high pitched and panicked. The car shakes around him and it takes him long moments to realize that Raven is holding him. Whispering ‘Alles wird gut’ over and over as she drags her fingers through his hair. He calms down in degrees, pressing his face in the crook of Raven’s neck, begging her to not make him go in there. But he’s safe with Raven, just like when he was with Piotr. She wouldn’t hurt him. She wouldn’t let anyone. Safe.

Between her and Hank they get him standing, coaxing him slowly into a building that smells like death and blood to him. The metal is screaming and there’s so much of it. He gets as far as the lobby before he faints.

oOo

The metal is just a low hum when he wakes. No more panic and he feels like he’s been wrapped up in cotton and left in the blissful dark. Someone is talking to him, the sound low, familiar. After a couple of blinks he sees Sean’s grinning face come into view.

“Man, they really sedated the shit out of you.” His voice is all ridiculous affection.

Erik grunts as a response, spending the next few minutes trying to get a handle on exactly what the hell was going on. It doesn’t really work. He knows that his arm is in a cast and he doesn’t know where his jacket has gone. He lets Sean herd him into a sitting position, making a soft noise of distress when he smells antiseptic.

“It’s cool, man. We’re gonna get out of here as soon as you can walk.”

Okay, that was okay. Sean would get him out of here. Sean makes him stay still long enough to get a sling on him and tug half his jacket on, draping the other side over his shoulder. Then it’s sort of a swaying dance getting him to stand and Sean makes jokes about how this is as close to drunk as he gonna ever see Erik. Then he’s out in the night air. Sean is asking him something, his address, but he’s still muddled.

“Okay, dude, that was in German, so I didn’t get any of it.”

Erik tries again, but he’s exhausted and he thinks he mumbles something before he hears Sean chuckle. He’s helped into a car, the last full thing he remembers is Sean saying, “Fuck it, we’ll go with plan b.”

oOo

Knocking wakes him next. Hammering, shouting about a key and driving three hours and the unfairness of it all. Erik lurches up because his head is pounding and his arm is aching, the morning light through unfamiliar windows making him squint. He stumbles off the couch he’s on, the quilt that someone left over him pooling on the floor. He has no idea at all where he is but he has to stop that godawful noise.

He fumbles with the locks on the door. It isn’t until he yanks it open and there are a pair of gorgeous blue eyes looking up at him in perfect utter shock, that he realizes that he’s barefoot and shirtless, wearing only the old jeans from yesterday with the cuffs all torn up.

That’s how he meets Charles Xavier.




They stare at each other for far too long before he hears a door jerk open behind him and then Raven is shouting at him for being off the couch and Charles is shouting at Raven about something completely different. The noise is horrendous but Raven drags him back to the couch and throws the quilt on him.

He’s content to lay curled there while the siblings bicker until Raven prods him into sitting and gives him a plate of toast with jam with cranberry juice and two white pills. He swallows the pills dry and tries to roll back over on the couch when she shouts at him again. “You’re supposed to take those with food! Charles, don’t let him skip breakfast!”

Erik groans as he’s prodded back up, and scolded before Raven disappears down a hallway. They have to be in her apartment, it smells like her and there are paintings everywhere.

“Not sure how I’m supposed to do that!” Charles calls after her and Erik winces. “Ah, sorry, we’re both rather thunderous when we get in the same room.”

“Mm-hmm,” Erik manages, pressing his good hand over his eyes.

After a good stretch of silence Erik slides his good hand down his face and blinks as Charles Xavier smiles at him with far too much interest. He’s rolled himself over by the couch. “You must be Erik.”

“I must be,” Erik replies and frowns at the toast.

“Well, yes,” Charles is frowning picking apart Erik’s answer. “Raven talks about you quite often. The picture she sent was terrible though, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

That was... not something he knew. He can’t imagine what kind of talk goes around the Xavier dinner table. He doesn’t want to know. He grimaces and Charles smiles with a little sigh. “How about you eat and I can stop making banal small talk at you? Deal?”

Erik nods and they sit in a companionable silence as he eats toast. He’s lying down again when Raven reappears clothed and pulling her hair back.

“Don’t tell me you two just stared at each other the entire time I was gone?”

“Not the entire time,” Charles argues. “Just most of it.”

“Hopeless,” Raven’s voice moves around the apartment when Erik drags the quilt back over his head. “I can’t believe you drove all the way here from Vermont.”

“Really? What was I supposed to do when I get the message, ‘At hospital, call you later’ and I get no call? How long am I supposed to stare at the phone for?”

“I totally forgot! Besides, I wasn’t there for me!”

Erik is chuckling now, still chuckling when Raven flips the quilt off his head to glare at him. “You’re not helping. They kept Alex overnight and I’m meeting Hank at the hospital right now to check on him. That percocet you just took is gonna make you loopy, the bathroom is down the hall on the right and there’s food in the fridge. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

“Ja, mutter,” Erik says and gets the quilt thrown on him again as Raven tells Charles to hurry up.

oOo

The week following the incident is... odd. Though it might not be for other people, Erik is aware that he’s never done well with sudden change. But now he can’t work normally with his arm in a cast, and he still isn’t comfortable using his power for his work in front of anyone. Though Raven just rolls her eyes as he putters around his bench doing what he can.

They’ve also gained an Alex. Hank had explained the whole situation when Erik had come up after a long day of giving statements at the police station and found Alex asleep in Sean’s bed as Hank worked on a diagram of some sleek airplane.

Alex had been a runaway from foster care but had turned eighteen a few years ago so there was nothing much the police could do for him except arrest him for vagrancy which seemed insult to injury after his assault. So while Erik had been sleeping in Raven’s apartment the other three had decided that they were going to keep him.

“Have you told him that yet?” Erik asks settling on the chair between Hank and the bed.

Hank shrugs as he works. “We’ll let him know when he’s off the painkillers.”

Erik peers through the mosquito netting Sean has set up around the bed, looking over blond messy hair and the mottle of bruises that curve from the boy’s mouth, up the side of his face and end in a rather spectacular black eye. He’s got two broken ribs to go along with that and a dislocated shoulder that’s in a sling and bound to his body.

“Dude, has he woken up yet? He’s mouthy as fuck!” Sean states with unmeasured glee as he opens the side door with his hip and sets a cardboard box down filled with twisting vases of various colors.

“Really?” Erik asks, but he’s not surprised. He’s met people who lived on the street before, they were like he was for a long time, waiting for the world to turn on them.

“Loves Hank though,” Sean adds as he rubs his hands clean on his jeans.

“He does not,” Hank grumbles, hunching in on himself.

“Dude, seriously? He’s out of his mind half the time on pills but the only person he lets touch him is the giant beasty looking one.”

“Maybe he just likes blue,” Erik adds and Sean laughs as Hank’s phone beeps.

Sean grabs the phone before Hank can and then breaks into a smile. “Charles is stuck in the elevator again. He’s says to take your time, he brought a book.”

Erik stands without being asked, ignoring the brief look that Hank gives him. He knows Raven wouldn’t tell anyone about what he can do, but he also knows that Hank is not an idiot.

He shuts the door behind him and reaches out, listening until he hears the sharp song of the elevator cable and the low thrumming hum of the metal cage. It’s with a tug and a twist that the elevator ‘clunks’. There’s a soft gasp from it’s passenger and Erik finds himself on the end of those blue eyes and that smile once again as the elevator comes into view. At least he’s fully clothed this time, jeans and a knit jumper that Kitty sent him last Christmas.

“Ah! I didn’t know you were here! I would have brought more food.”

Erik opens the sliding cage of the elevator for him, he uses his hand but that isn’t what causes the door to slide perfectly to the side, all the joints staying aligned. He gets the smallest feeling of awe, pride, mixing up with something like... appreciation. It’s the feeling Erik gets when he’s finished a piece, watching all the curves and lines settle into something... beautiful.

He frowns as Charles clears his throat. Was he thinking that? Why would he...? Charles is rolling out of the elevator and chattering at him until he focuses.

“...Not that I’d know you’d like pancakes, of course. I mean, Raven says you’re fond of sweets but-”

“Pancakes?” Erik says because he’s not entirely sure what just happened or where in the conversation he was supposed to be.

He realizes that Charles has a white bag full of Styrofoam take out boxes on his lap and a battered paperback of Frank Herbert’s Dune tucked to the side.

“Yes, pancakes,” Charles grins. “I made the mistake of calling ahead and asking if anyone was hungry.”

“Sean answered?”

“Of course,” Charles grins as Erik opens the door for him.

oOo

Charles becomes a bit of a feature after the first week. Erik learns that this was business as usual every time Charles gets a break in his schedule. Erik can’t imagine it happens very often. Charles pesters Raven and works with Hank on goodness knows what, he sits on the roof while Sean spins glass and catches him up on all the bad TV he’s missed while traveling.

Alex on the other hand is a force of nature, moody and foul one moment and contrite the next. He huddles near Hank when he’s better and when he can’t do that he sits by Erik’s workbench until his ribs start to ache and Erik coaxes him into going upstairs. Honestly it was like taking in a feral cat. Hissing and hiding in corners one minute but the second anyone had food he was up and alert with his best smile on. They go out of their way to have food, they all like his smile and he needs fattening up anyway.

But it’s all still new and their dynamic is changing. Sometimes it exhausts Erik. Sometimes he just stays curled at home in his box and listens to the TV and reads.

Which is where he’s content to stay right now. Some period piece is on and he’s just tucking his bookmark into a copy of Frankenstein to sit up and decide what he’s doing for dinner when there’s a knock at his door. It makes him pause because the only people that have knocked on his door since he’s lived here have been the landlord, his neighbor across the way who had a package for him once, and a very unlucky pair of Mormons that had caught him on a bad day.

He sees nothing through the peephole but the top of a head. Erik closes his eyes, counts to ten before he opens the door. Charles is grinning and Erik is a second away from snapping at him when Charles blurts, “I know you said you wanted to be alone tonight but I wanted to talk to you and I brought curry.”

Curry, of which the scent is now drifting from the hall into Erik’s apartment and driving him to madness.

“That’s playing dirty,” Erik frowns but he steps aside and allows Charles to roll into his apartment.

He doesn’t get very far, Erik has piles of books everywhere which he curses and sets about shifting after he shuts the door until Charles can manage to get to the central pile of books with a stolen stop sign on top that Erik uses as his coffee table.

Charles for his part just seems amused, he keeps picking books up as Erik moves them and Erik can’t help but be distracted as pale fingers spider over the spines.

“You are quite the avid reader,” he says after a moment and Erik feels that same spark of appreciation he’s felt before curl around around him. It’s pleasant and while he can’t quiet explain it, it doesn’t strike him as something that he should fear.

“I like books,” Erik shrugs, settling on the other side of the makeshift table, perching on the side of his bed. He lets Charles set out the food, paper napkins and plastic forks as he tells Erik about Raven dragging the rest of the ‘gang’ out to pizza, even Alex. Erik is so focused on not saying anything stupid that he misses the next few sentences. It isn’t until the words, “...such a brilliant thing you did for him. Saved his life you know, it could have been so much worse.”

Erik is unused to praise regarding anything outside of his work and after he spends far too long blushing, he ends up muttering, “It’s what anyone would have done.”

Which turns out to be the wrong thing to say if the way Charles pales is any indication and the soft way he shakes his head, “No, no it isn’t.”

Silence creeps up on them after that but Charles busies his hands opening take out boxes and after a moment Erik helps him, they eat out of the containers sharing like it was something they’ve been doing for years. Hands exchange steaming curries and fragrant rice, it isn’t until the meal is almost through that Erik leans back, laying the weight of his cast on his knees.

“You said you wanted to talk to me. You haven’t said more than twenty words to me this week.”

“That’s part of why I wanted to talk to you,” Charles smiles, he’s playing with the sleeves of the hooded sweatshirt he’s wearing. A strange change from the tuxedo that Erik saw on the TV. “I didn’t want to... Raven assures me that you’re a private individual and I can, at times, be rather pushy.”

“You’ve been avoiding me as to not offend me? Pardon me, Charles but that’s quite offensive.” Erik shakes his head chidingly.

Charles laughs. Erik always paused what he was doing when Charles laughed. Fingers poised over whatever ring he was cleaning until the bright sunny sound faded in the dusty warmth of the studio. He does the same now, his fingers stilling from where they trace the edges of his cast just watching the way Charles’ expression lights up the tiny space of Erik’s apartment.




“It’s just... It’s hard talking to people when they don’t know.” Charles bites at the bottom of his lip as Erik leans forward.

“Know what, Charles?”

“I’m a telepath.” Charles breathes the secret into the air.

“A telepath,” Erik repeats, picking apart the word in his head as a shiver of worry creeps up his spine. “You read minds?”

“Not all the time,” Charles grouses. “And not without permission. It would be incredibly improper.” Charles is blushing now and tugging on his sleeves again. “I just- I project things sometimes and I can pick up on surface thoughts if someone is being overtly emotional.”

He projects? The incident at the elevator makes sense, the pride and appreciation came from Charles. Erik’s mind stumbles over the thought, that’s what Charles was thinking when he looked at him?

“Why tell me this?” Erik wonders because this is the kind of thing one keeps secret. He hasn’t heard this from the media, not that’s he’ gone out of his way to check. But there is a stack of magazines jammed in between the TV and the bed that he’d be rather embarrassed if Charles found.

“I tell all my friends,” Charles says and Erik finds himself floundering again.

He wasn’t aware that they were friends. He was a friend of Raven’s certainly but he can’t really remember the day or month he became her friend but it would seem much more time had... It seemed to Erik that much more should have passed between them for them to be discussing such precious labels as friends. But making friends is difficult for Erik, perhaps it isn’t so much for Charles.

Erik leans forward, picking apart the last of the naan as he thinks it over and Charles is quiet. Nothing like Raven who feels the need to poke and prod Erik’s thinking into something faster, something half thought out and stumbling forward suddenly without brakes. “Have you read my mind?” Erik asks because he’s wondering if he should be mad that Charles did or flattered that he bothered.

“I can pick up on what you’re feeling now and then.” Charles explains and that’s alright. Erik doesn’t mind that. “But it’s almost impossible to tell exactly what you’re thinking.” Erik frowns and it’s either his look or his confusion that makes Charles continue. “You think in German, Erik. I haven’t the faintest clue what’s in your head.”

He says it with a smile, amused, and before Erik knows it he’s sharing the sentiment because that’s just so... Them. This is them. This is how it’s going to be and Erik thinks he likes it. It’s new, fragile but Charles is patient and Erik is willing. He doesn’t have to say anything and Charles knows.

“So,” Erik tilts his head back and forth as he starts to clean up. “You’re a telepath. The media must love that.”

“It’s gotten me into trouble now and again,” Charles is starting to loosen up, to sink back down in his chair and leave his sleeves alone. “And out of trouble.”

“Of course,” Erik adds, his gift has gone both ways as well.

He tosses away the trash and is searching his mind for something to do. He’s not remarkable at conversation and he’s out of beer, when he hears a noise of curiosity from Charles.

“Is that a chess set?”

Erik follows his line of sight to a stack of books with the travel set tucked in between ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and a Latin phrase book. “Yes. But it’s missing two pawns, one for each color.”

“Good enough. Do you play?”

They replace the missing pawns with a old subway token and a bottle cap, respectively and it isn’t until Erik has checkmated Charles twice that he believes the other is telling the truth about not reading his mind.

Next Part