Superheroes (4/8)
Title: Superheroes
Author: coquilleon
Summary: Charles has a date
Characters/Pairing: Erik, Charles. alluded future Erik/Charles
Genre: Friendship/General
Rating: PG - 13
Notes: Erik and Charles are in 11th grade
"You should give it up," Angel says bluntly, lunch tray landing loudly on the table. Hank jumps at the sound, cheeks flushing red hot and guilty as he tears his gaze away from the table a few feet away. "It's not gonna happen," she continues, sliding into the seat across from him.
Hank doesn't meet her eyes, choosing instead to twirl his plastic fork around in his spaghetti. "It might. I mean. Maybe…"
Angel looks over her shoulder to the table that has held Hank's attention nearly everyday for almost two years. He doesn't need to look over as well to know what she sees; Charles Xavier and Erik Lensherr sitting together, eating silently, and literally gazing into each other's eyes. Well, that's not fair - they don't gaze as much as… communicate with their facial features. It sounds awkward and odd, but Hank can't find another way to put it. He doesn't think he's ever seen Erik and Charles actually speak to each other. That's a lie - he's seen them speak to each other a few times, but even then it's in low, private murmurs no one else can hear.
He darts another look from under his fringe - Erik is leaning into Charles, as if listening to something the smaller boy is saying. Charles' mouth doesn't move, but after a moment Erik smirks anyway and brushes their shoulders together. And the look Charles gives him-
Hank looks away.
"They are attached at the hip," Angel says, turning back to Hank.
"They're best friends," he mutters, cutting his pasta into tiny, mushy pieces. "You and Moria are always together."
"That's different," Angel says, flippantly, tearing open a bag of chips. "I'm obviously not in love with Moria." Hank opens his mouth to speak, but Angel continues, one pierced eyebrow raised. "And don't even say that they aren't in love. Or at least doing each other. Dude, three years ago," and Hank rolls his eyes because he's heard this story a thousand and one times. He privately thinks Angel should be over it by now. "Winter Ball," she continues, oblivious. "I asked Erik, remember? He's there for maybe two hours tops, won't even dance with me, and acting as if he doesn't know what the hell to do with himself. I go the bathroom, and when I come back he finally walks up to me and says, "It was great, I'm glad you asked me. I really am. But Charles is sick, and I promised him I'd stop by later, so..." and then he's just gone."
"Not that you minded it much. It's the whole reason why you and Azazel are dating." Now it's Angel's turn to roll her eyes, but Hank ignores her. "Besides, that doesn't prove anything-" Hank starts to say, but he's jostled by another person sitting down next to him. Moria's long, brown, sweet smelling hair sweeps across his face as she flips it over her shoulder. "What are we talking about?"
Alex, and Sean sit on either side of Angel, and Hank wants to stop this conversation now. Too many people around to tell him this is an awful idea and, by extension, hopeless endeavor. Not that it really makes a difference - he's sure his massive crush on Charles Xavier isn't going anywhere anytime soon.
"Hank is, once again, contemplating asking Charles Xavier out on a date," Angel announces, crunching into a potato chip.
Alex snorts. "Good luck, bro."
"Thanks for your vote of confidence," Hank replies, mulishly.
"Shut up," Alex says, opening his bottle of Coke and guzzling it down. He burps and Hank wrinkles his nose. "You know what I mean. It has nothing to do with you - you're a freakin genius and Xavier is too, so you got that goin for you. And you're pretty hot for a nerd." Hank feels his cheeks flare up again, ears burning, and Angel gives an inelegant huff of laughter. "But fuck all that's gonna do for you if you can't get past Lensherr."
"You won't get past Erik," Sean chips in, not looking away from his hamburger.
"You really won't." Angel says.
Hank feels his heart sink. It's the normal response to this line of conversation. The result is always the same - 'Don't even try. It will just end in eternal sadness.' It shouldn't matter. It really shouldn't - it's just a crush. A crush he's had for two years and has done nothing about. He just- It's his last year, and he's graduating soon, and he just wants the one date at least… to see where it goes…
"I think you should try," Moria says quietly, and Hank shoots her a small, grateful smile.
"Do we even know if he's gay?" Sean asks. The table goes quiet.
"He does wear those little sweater vests," Alex says after a moment, and Moria rolls her eyes.
"That's like saying we know you're bi because of your sneakers."
"That makes exactly no sense," Alex says.
"Exactly my point."
Hank smiles a little as Alex goes on to brag about his date this weekend with that blonde guy on the football team with the tattoos. He lets his gaze stray back over to the table a few feet away. Charles' big blue eyes shine, crinkled at the sides, a result of the wide smile that shows off his white teeth. Erik murmurs something, a sly smirk on his face as well. But Hank focuses on Charles and feels his heart try to flutter back up into his rib cage, feeble wings beating hard.
He's going to do it - he's going to ask Charles Xavier on a date.
He's got to try.
o o o
"Hello, Hank." Charles smiles kindly up at him, big blue eyes immediately pulling him in, and Hank's mouth goes dry. Why is he doing this? Alex, and Sean, and Angel were right. Charles is going to say no, and Erik is going to corner him in a deserted hallway, smiling sharply has he interrogates Hank. He looks around quickly, despite knowing that Lensherr has P.E right now and as a result is all the way at the other end of the school.
Realizing he's been silent for far too long, Hank jumps into speech. "Hey, Charles. Howzitgoing?" He tries to smile, but it feels more like a grimace, and he should just walk away now.
Charles stares up at him, directly into his eyes, and the seconds crawl by. He stares, unblinking, and Hank feels as if he's trying to read his mind. God, that's the last thing he needs, Charles Xavier seeing all the things Hank wants to do to him…
Finally, after what seems like years, Charles gives him a soft smile, and looks away, the corner of his lip twitching upwards. He looks at the floor, Hank's shoulder, and then back up into his face. "I'm good, fine. And you?"
"Good… good." Another break of silence and Hank feels like sinking into the floor, because, really, how awkward can he be right now? Charles' smile gets even more kind and he shifts on his feet, closer into Hank's personal space. The creamy skin of his cheeks has a slight pink flush to them and it's so endearing Hank feels his heart give an affectionate lurch.
"So!" he begins, too loudly. He coughs, and tries again. "I mean, so, would you like to- I don't know - There's this, this new exhibition on the pier. Well it's not new exactly, but it was gone for a few years and now it's back. It's an in depth look into the human body. It's actually called Bodies, and there are bones, and tissue and… everything… just laid out…"
It doesn't exactly sound romantic, but he knows Charles will like it. Charles is in his advanced biochemistry class, and he's still a grade under Hank. It's the perfect thing for them to go to.
Isn't it?
"That would be great," Charles says.
Hank blinks.
"Really?"
Charles smiles up at him and shifts his books into his other hand. "Yes, it sounds fascinating. I've heard about that exhibit and have always wanted to go see it. It's perfect really."
"Yeah," and Hank is grinning now too, relieved. His friends are not going to believe him when he tells them. "And afterwards we can, I don't know, get some ice cream and see the street performers. Sit on the beach."
The smaller boy's grin gets wider, and he nods. "Sounds wonderful."
Hank feels giddy. "It's a date."
Charles laughs. "It's a date."
And just like that, Hank has a date with Charles Xavier.
o o o
Why are you so quiet? Erik asks him an hour into their studying. It's after school and they're in Charles' room. The fresh spring air blows softly into the space, carrying the noise of children playing, and Charles hesitates. Not that he's sure why. He wants to tell Erik that he has a date, but for some reason he feels oddly about it, his heart pumping a little too fast at the idea. He watches as Erik absent mindedly bends and twists one of the thick metal knitting needles he carries around just for this purpose. His eyes track the way Erik's long fingers move, smooth and strong through the air, and feels an all too familiar shiver run down his spine. It's moments like these that he's glad Erik isn't the one who can read minds.
He recalls how nervous Hank was earlier today. How his clear skin flushed red and his eyes shone bright blue behind thick black frames and under windswept hair. It made a very attractive picture. Charles blushes as he also remembers what he'd seen flash briefly through Hank's mind before remembering the boundaries he's set up for himself - plush red lips against his own. Big, smooth hands, usually found wrapped around ball point pens and glass beakers, cradling Charles' face... brief images of skin against skin and words breathed heavily into the curve of damp throats.
Charles clears his throat and ignores his burning face.
I have a date.
Erik pauses for a moment, hands ceasing its fluid movements for a split second before continuing. He keeps his eyes fixed on his papers. Oh? With Moria?
Charles shifts in his seat on the bed, opens his mouth, closes it, and fixes his own gaze on the textbook open on his lap. Uh, no. No, it's with… Hank.
Everything seems to go still and Charles keeps his own eyes fixed on his book. Neither of them move, the metal knitting needle bent into a pretzel floats midair, and Charles really, really, wants to delve into his friend's mind. It's a real force of will, but he holds back and damns his boundaries.
Hank McCoy? The tone of Erik's thought give nothing away, but Charles already knew it wouldn't. Erik is so used to keeping only what he wants to be heard on the surface - Charles has been in his head most of his life and as a result, he's got the best defenses Charles has ever felt in a mind before.
Yeah. They fall into an uncomfortable silence again. Why? Why is this so odd? It's just the pier. Charles explains, because for some reason he feels the need to. There's an exhibit. The Bodies exhibit. It's on Friday night.
Friday?
Yes. Charles pauses. I was hoping you wouldn't mind-
I don't. Erik thinks quickly. I don't mind. It's good. I'm glad you - you and Hank McCoy are going out. He's a nice guy.
If you don't want me to go-
Why wouldn't I want you to go?
Finally, something shifts in Erik's thoughts - a ripple of sensation that echoes. It almost sounds like a dare, and Charles is tempted to just let everything out. To say that if Erik doesn't want him to go he won't. If he just asks him, Charles will do a rain check with Hank. Or not. He could call Hank and tell him that he can't go at all - not if Erik doesn't want him to because he wants Charles all to himself.
This is Charles' perfect opening. He can just… say it. Project it. Tell Erik that he's had a massive crush on him for three years now, and that every time Erik smiles at him his breath catches. Or whenever Erik's fingers brush Charles' skin his heart beats double time. He could tell him, he could. He could…
No reason, Charles says instead, and the clock ticks. A few more moments pass and the metal of the knitting needle begins to twist again.
I hope you have fun.
Charles' gaze on the textbook pages blurs.
Yeah. Me too.
o o o
Erik isn't one to lie to himself. So halfway through telling himself for the fiftieth time that he doesn't care that Charles, at this very moment, could very well be laughing at some stupid science based joke told by Hank McCoy, he stops.
He does care. He cares, he cares, he cares, and he doesn't want Charles out with Hank McCoy, especially when he's supposed to be here, on their Friday night.
He doesn't know why, though.
He honestly doesn't
When he thought Charles was going on a date with Moria Erik couldn't have cared less. He and Moria have gone out a few times over the years and Erik has never given it a second thought. But apparently there's something about Hank McCoy…
He stops trying to watch some documentary about the honey badger and irritably turns the television off. The image of the beast ripping the skin off of a rattle snake blinks out of existence and Erik lies back in his bed, staring up at the ceiling.
It's not like he didn't know Charles likes boys too. He's always known that - it's never been a secret or something to be ashamed of. Hell, even Erik gives the side eye to that blonde kid with the tattoos on the football team sometimes - the guy's a dick, but he has those shoulders that make him the best linebacker on any school team in the county.
He looks over at the clock.
Twelve twenty-four.
They're probably on their way home now. Or maybe Charles is already home, standing on his front step, looking up into Hank McCoy's face as it gets closer and closer as he leans down-
Erik furrows his brow and shakes his head, the irritable feeling scratching at his insides growing. Why is he thinking about his best friend and Hank McCoy kissing? It's not really his business for one thing. Charles can kiss whomever he likes - God knows Erik has done his fair share of it with various girls in their grade. And he highly doubts Charles was lying down in his bed during Erik's date nights, wondering if he was pressing Emma into the backseat of her car. Not that he thinks Hank has Charles pressed into the backseat of his car. Charles wouldn't do that - make out with someone on the first date. And besides, he's seen McCoy around school; a senior that acts as timid as a freshman and hangs out with friends much louder and rowdier than he will ever be. His nose always in a book and pushing his glasses up with his finger. He barely even celebrates when he wins the track meets for the school team, choosing instead to grin crookedly amidst the backslaps and cheers, ridiculously high cheekbones stained red. Erik doubts Hank has the balls to be so forward as to lay Charles down in the backseat of his car.
He might though.
If they hit it off.
Which they probably did, because Charles is shy too, and he's always reading, and they're both science nerds who get excited over the prospect of the discovery of a new species of fungi. Not that Erik doesn't think a new species of fungi is… interesting. It dawns on him that Charles probably doesn't know that. He should let him know, and then the both of them can go to more science exhibits without Charles feeling like he's dragging Erik around, boring him to death.
And he likes to read. He's more into learning different languages than thesis statements about the multiplication of cells but still, a book is a book.
Right?
Erik looks at the clock again. Twelve forty-seven. He turns away from it onto his other side and punches his pillow into shape. When he shuts his eyes tight, resolutely bypassing anymore thought about Charles, Hank McCoy, and what might be going on at this stage of their date, it feels like a rebellion.
o o o
Did you have a good time?
It's Saturday, and Erik and Charles are in the park by Charles' house. They lay on the grass, in the sprawling shade of their favorite huge elm. Erik darts a glance over to Charles, but his face is turned upwards, eyes closed. He's displeased to see a small smile curving Charles' lips. He looks away.
Yes. It was surprisingly enjoyable.
Why surprisingly?
Well, Hank never really seemed one for the humor. He's usually so quiet, you know?
Yeah… They fall quiet and the sound of kids screaming 'you're it', and the click of bike stokes fill the silence. After a few minutes Erik asks, What did you two do?
Just dinner, and the exhibit. Then we got ice cream and sat on the beach, talking.
Erik tries to infuse his thoughts with good humor, even though his stomach is doing an odd maneuver he's yet to feel ever before in all of his sixteen years. Just talking?
Yes, Erik.
So you wouldn't know if he's a good kisser?
Charles doesn't answer right away and Erik feels his heart drop a few notches. Straight into the wriggling mess of knots that used to be his stomach. He's simultaneously happy and frustrated that Charles has learned boundaries when it comes to his telepathy. Maybe if he broke his own rules he could tell Erik why he feels like shit. He feigns good spirits. Aha! Fess up. And why is he doing this to himself? Why does he keep asking quest-?
It was nothing serious. Charles pauses again, and Erik doesn't need to look over to know that his smile has gotten a little bigger. Just a kiss goodnight.
Good enough for a second date?
Maybe.
Yes.
…Alright, yes. We're going to the movies Friday night.
Friday, huh? Erik hates himself the moment he projects it over to Charles. He doesn't want to seem needy. And sure, he doesn't like it that fucking Hank McCoy (and when did his name become a epithet) has stolen his best friend for the second Friday in a row, but that doesn't mean Charles shouldn't go and enjoy himself.
Yes… Now Charles sounds unsure. That is alright isn't it? I could-
No, no. It's fine. I think I have plans anyway.
Oh?
Yeah, uh, I was thinking of asking Emma out. Well if he wasn't before, he is now. He wants to dwell on the fact that she will probably say no, as rumor has it she's dating some Californian transplant nicknamed Riptide, but he's too busy fixated on the fact that he just gave into the insane urge to lie to his best friend about something so stupid.
Oh. Charles sounds funny. Erik isn't imagining it. He's not. That's… we'll both have dates.
I guess so. Erik shrugs mentally and all falls quiet again.
Everything stays the same - the kids scream, and the bikes ride past, and the birds tweet. But something has shifted. He can feel it and he knows Charles does to.
Something is different and Erik doesn't like it.
o o o
The warm sun shines down on his skin through the break in the leaves and Charles contemplates telling Erik that Hank thought they were together. That apparently the whole student body thinks they're dating and madly in love, but decides against it.
It would be a laugh, that's it.
What would it accomplish, really?
o o o
"Dead man walking," Alex says right into his ear, lips brushing against the shell, and Hank whips his head around.
"What are you talking about?"
Alex nods his head and Hank looks around in the same direction. Despite the noise and what seems like hundreds of students milling around the hall, his eyes are immediately drawn to Charles who is digging around for something in his locker. His mind goes to goo for a second; just as it has ever other time he remembers leaning down to finally kiss him. He recalls the fresh, sweet taste of the other boy's mouth and feels his own begin to break out into a goofy grin. He wants to sink into the memory, but the sudden prickling on the back of his neck has Hank looking up to stare directly into Erik Lensherr's eyes.
He does not look happy.
At all.
In fact, if Hank wasn't sure that Lensherr wasn't a killer he'd be extremely worried. He still is really worried, to be honest. Lensherr glares at Hank, eyes a flinty, and furious kind of green that reminds him of grenades, and Hank feels a shudder zip up his spine. The other boy doesn't blink, holding Hank hostage with how hostile he appears. Hank feels like he's staring down a hardened dog, his only reward for looking away being sharp teeth around his throat.
Finally, Erik looks away when Charles slams his locker shut and nudges his arm. Hank tears his gaze away from Erik, who is now smiling down warmly at Charles. As if he wasn't just promising Hank a slow death with his eyes.
Sean flips his shaggy red hair out of his eyes, gives a low, sharp whistle and leans his back against the lockers. "Man, he is one scary motherfucker."
"I'm just surprised you actually did it." Alex says, and sounds just as impressed as he did the first time Hank told him Charles said yes.
"Course he did," Sean replies, pushing himself away from tan metal. "He's stupid enough." He turns to Hank and slaps his palm down on his shoulder, expression mockingly somber. "Man, you must really want that English ass. Good thing you can run."
He and Alex burst into laughter and Hank swallows around the sudden lump in his throat.
Author: coquilleon
Summary: Charles has a date
Characters/Pairing: Erik, Charles. alluded future Erik/Charles
Genre: Friendship/General
Rating: PG - 13
Notes: Erik and Charles are in 11th grade
"You should give it up," Angel says bluntly, lunch tray landing loudly on the table. Hank jumps at the sound, cheeks flushing red hot and guilty as he tears his gaze away from the table a few feet away. "It's not gonna happen," she continues, sliding into the seat across from him.
Hank doesn't meet her eyes, choosing instead to twirl his plastic fork around in his spaghetti. "It might. I mean. Maybe…"
Angel looks over her shoulder to the table that has held Hank's attention nearly everyday for almost two years. He doesn't need to look over as well to know what she sees; Charles Xavier and Erik Lensherr sitting together, eating silently, and literally gazing into each other's eyes. Well, that's not fair - they don't gaze as much as… communicate with their facial features. It sounds awkward and odd, but Hank can't find another way to put it. He doesn't think he's ever seen Erik and Charles actually speak to each other. That's a lie - he's seen them speak to each other a few times, but even then it's in low, private murmurs no one else can hear.
He darts another look from under his fringe - Erik is leaning into Charles, as if listening to something the smaller boy is saying. Charles' mouth doesn't move, but after a moment Erik smirks anyway and brushes their shoulders together. And the look Charles gives him-
Hank looks away.
"They are attached at the hip," Angel says, turning back to Hank.
"They're best friends," he mutters, cutting his pasta into tiny, mushy pieces. "You and Moria are always together."
"That's different," Angel says, flippantly, tearing open a bag of chips. "I'm obviously not in love with Moria." Hank opens his mouth to speak, but Angel continues, one pierced eyebrow raised. "And don't even say that they aren't in love. Or at least doing each other. Dude, three years ago," and Hank rolls his eyes because he's heard this story a thousand and one times. He privately thinks Angel should be over it by now. "Winter Ball," she continues, oblivious. "I asked Erik, remember? He's there for maybe two hours tops, won't even dance with me, and acting as if he doesn't know what the hell to do with himself. I go the bathroom, and when I come back he finally walks up to me and says, "It was great, I'm glad you asked me. I really am. But Charles is sick, and I promised him I'd stop by later, so..." and then he's just gone."
"Not that you minded it much. It's the whole reason why you and Azazel are dating." Now it's Angel's turn to roll her eyes, but Hank ignores her. "Besides, that doesn't prove anything-" Hank starts to say, but he's jostled by another person sitting down next to him. Moria's long, brown, sweet smelling hair sweeps across his face as she flips it over her shoulder. "What are we talking about?"
Alex, and Sean sit on either side of Angel, and Hank wants to stop this conversation now. Too many people around to tell him this is an awful idea and, by extension, hopeless endeavor. Not that it really makes a difference - he's sure his massive crush on Charles Xavier isn't going anywhere anytime soon.
"Hank is, once again, contemplating asking Charles Xavier out on a date," Angel announces, crunching into a potato chip.
Alex snorts. "Good luck, bro."
"Thanks for your vote of confidence," Hank replies, mulishly.
"Shut up," Alex says, opening his bottle of Coke and guzzling it down. He burps and Hank wrinkles his nose. "You know what I mean. It has nothing to do with you - you're a freakin genius and Xavier is too, so you got that goin for you. And you're pretty hot for a nerd." Hank feels his cheeks flare up again, ears burning, and Angel gives an inelegant huff of laughter. "But fuck all that's gonna do for you if you can't get past Lensherr."
"You won't get past Erik," Sean chips in, not looking away from his hamburger.
"You really won't." Angel says.
Hank feels his heart sink. It's the normal response to this line of conversation. The result is always the same - 'Don't even try. It will just end in eternal sadness.' It shouldn't matter. It really shouldn't - it's just a crush. A crush he's had for two years and has done nothing about. He just- It's his last year, and he's graduating soon, and he just wants the one date at least… to see where it goes…
"I think you should try," Moria says quietly, and Hank shoots her a small, grateful smile.
"Do we even know if he's gay?" Sean asks. The table goes quiet.
"He does wear those little sweater vests," Alex says after a moment, and Moria rolls her eyes.
"That's like saying we know you're bi because of your sneakers."
"That makes exactly no sense," Alex says.
"Exactly my point."
Hank smiles a little as Alex goes on to brag about his date this weekend with that blonde guy on the football team with the tattoos. He lets his gaze stray back over to the table a few feet away. Charles' big blue eyes shine, crinkled at the sides, a result of the wide smile that shows off his white teeth. Erik murmurs something, a sly smirk on his face as well. But Hank focuses on Charles and feels his heart try to flutter back up into his rib cage, feeble wings beating hard.
He's going to do it - he's going to ask Charles Xavier on a date.
He's got to try.
o o o
"Hello, Hank." Charles smiles kindly up at him, big blue eyes immediately pulling him in, and Hank's mouth goes dry. Why is he doing this? Alex, and Sean, and Angel were right. Charles is going to say no, and Erik is going to corner him in a deserted hallway, smiling sharply has he interrogates Hank. He looks around quickly, despite knowing that Lensherr has P.E right now and as a result is all the way at the other end of the school.
Realizing he's been silent for far too long, Hank jumps into speech. "Hey, Charles. Howzitgoing?" He tries to smile, but it feels more like a grimace, and he should just walk away now.
Charles stares up at him, directly into his eyes, and the seconds crawl by. He stares, unblinking, and Hank feels as if he's trying to read his mind. God, that's the last thing he needs, Charles Xavier seeing all the things Hank wants to do to him…
Finally, after what seems like years, Charles gives him a soft smile, and looks away, the corner of his lip twitching upwards. He looks at the floor, Hank's shoulder, and then back up into his face. "I'm good, fine. And you?"
"Good… good." Another break of silence and Hank feels like sinking into the floor, because, really, how awkward can he be right now? Charles' smile gets even more kind and he shifts on his feet, closer into Hank's personal space. The creamy skin of his cheeks has a slight pink flush to them and it's so endearing Hank feels his heart give an affectionate lurch.
"So!" he begins, too loudly. He coughs, and tries again. "I mean, so, would you like to- I don't know - There's this, this new exhibition on the pier. Well it's not new exactly, but it was gone for a few years and now it's back. It's an in depth look into the human body. It's actually called Bodies, and there are bones, and tissue and… everything… just laid out…"
It doesn't exactly sound romantic, but he knows Charles will like it. Charles is in his advanced biochemistry class, and he's still a grade under Hank. It's the perfect thing for them to go to.
Isn't it?
"That would be great," Charles says.
Hank blinks.
"Really?"
Charles smiles up at him and shifts his books into his other hand. "Yes, it sounds fascinating. I've heard about that exhibit and have always wanted to go see it. It's perfect really."
"Yeah," and Hank is grinning now too, relieved. His friends are not going to believe him when he tells them. "And afterwards we can, I don't know, get some ice cream and see the street performers. Sit on the beach."
The smaller boy's grin gets wider, and he nods. "Sounds wonderful."
Hank feels giddy. "It's a date."
Charles laughs. "It's a date."
And just like that, Hank has a date with Charles Xavier.
o o o
Why are you so quiet? Erik asks him an hour into their studying. It's after school and they're in Charles' room. The fresh spring air blows softly into the space, carrying the noise of children playing, and Charles hesitates. Not that he's sure why. He wants to tell Erik that he has a date, but for some reason he feels oddly about it, his heart pumping a little too fast at the idea. He watches as Erik absent mindedly bends and twists one of the thick metal knitting needles he carries around just for this purpose. His eyes track the way Erik's long fingers move, smooth and strong through the air, and feels an all too familiar shiver run down his spine. It's moments like these that he's glad Erik isn't the one who can read minds.
He recalls how nervous Hank was earlier today. How his clear skin flushed red and his eyes shone bright blue behind thick black frames and under windswept hair. It made a very attractive picture. Charles blushes as he also remembers what he'd seen flash briefly through Hank's mind before remembering the boundaries he's set up for himself - plush red lips against his own. Big, smooth hands, usually found wrapped around ball point pens and glass beakers, cradling Charles' face... brief images of skin against skin and words breathed heavily into the curve of damp throats.
Charles clears his throat and ignores his burning face.
I have a date.
Erik pauses for a moment, hands ceasing its fluid movements for a split second before continuing. He keeps his eyes fixed on his papers. Oh? With Moria?
Charles shifts in his seat on the bed, opens his mouth, closes it, and fixes his own gaze on the textbook open on his lap. Uh, no. No, it's with… Hank.
Everything seems to go still and Charles keeps his own eyes fixed on his book. Neither of them move, the metal knitting needle bent into a pretzel floats midair, and Charles really, really, wants to delve into his friend's mind. It's a real force of will, but he holds back and damns his boundaries.
Hank McCoy? The tone of Erik's thought give nothing away, but Charles already knew it wouldn't. Erik is so used to keeping only what he wants to be heard on the surface - Charles has been in his head most of his life and as a result, he's got the best defenses Charles has ever felt in a mind before.
Yeah. They fall into an uncomfortable silence again. Why? Why is this so odd? It's just the pier. Charles explains, because for some reason he feels the need to. There's an exhibit. The Bodies exhibit. It's on Friday night.
Friday?
Yes. Charles pauses. I was hoping you wouldn't mind-
I don't. Erik thinks quickly. I don't mind. It's good. I'm glad you - you and Hank McCoy are going out. He's a nice guy.
If you don't want me to go-
Why wouldn't I want you to go?
Finally, something shifts in Erik's thoughts - a ripple of sensation that echoes. It almost sounds like a dare, and Charles is tempted to just let everything out. To say that if Erik doesn't want him to go he won't. If he just asks him, Charles will do a rain check with Hank. Or not. He could call Hank and tell him that he can't go at all - not if Erik doesn't want him to because he wants Charles all to himself.
This is Charles' perfect opening. He can just… say it. Project it. Tell Erik that he's had a massive crush on him for three years now, and that every time Erik smiles at him his breath catches. Or whenever Erik's fingers brush Charles' skin his heart beats double time. He could tell him, he could. He could…
No reason, Charles says instead, and the clock ticks. A few more moments pass and the metal of the knitting needle begins to twist again.
I hope you have fun.
Charles' gaze on the textbook pages blurs.
Yeah. Me too.
o o o
Erik isn't one to lie to himself. So halfway through telling himself for the fiftieth time that he doesn't care that Charles, at this very moment, could very well be laughing at some stupid science based joke told by Hank McCoy, he stops.
He does care. He cares, he cares, he cares, and he doesn't want Charles out with Hank McCoy, especially when he's supposed to be here, on their Friday night.
He doesn't know why, though.
He honestly doesn't
When he thought Charles was going on a date with Moria Erik couldn't have cared less. He and Moria have gone out a few times over the years and Erik has never given it a second thought. But apparently there's something about Hank McCoy…
He stops trying to watch some documentary about the honey badger and irritably turns the television off. The image of the beast ripping the skin off of a rattle snake blinks out of existence and Erik lies back in his bed, staring up at the ceiling.
It's not like he didn't know Charles likes boys too. He's always known that - it's never been a secret or something to be ashamed of. Hell, even Erik gives the side eye to that blonde kid with the tattoos on the football team sometimes - the guy's a dick, but he has those shoulders that make him the best linebacker on any school team in the county.
He looks over at the clock.
Twelve twenty-four.
They're probably on their way home now. Or maybe Charles is already home, standing on his front step, looking up into Hank McCoy's face as it gets closer and closer as he leans down-
Erik furrows his brow and shakes his head, the irritable feeling scratching at his insides growing. Why is he thinking about his best friend and Hank McCoy kissing? It's not really his business for one thing. Charles can kiss whomever he likes - God knows Erik has done his fair share of it with various girls in their grade. And he highly doubts Charles was lying down in his bed during Erik's date nights, wondering if he was pressing Emma into the backseat of her car. Not that he thinks Hank has Charles pressed into the backseat of his car. Charles wouldn't do that - make out with someone on the first date. And besides, he's seen McCoy around school; a senior that acts as timid as a freshman and hangs out with friends much louder and rowdier than he will ever be. His nose always in a book and pushing his glasses up with his finger. He barely even celebrates when he wins the track meets for the school team, choosing instead to grin crookedly amidst the backslaps and cheers, ridiculously high cheekbones stained red. Erik doubts Hank has the balls to be so forward as to lay Charles down in the backseat of his car.
He might though.
If they hit it off.
Which they probably did, because Charles is shy too, and he's always reading, and they're both science nerds who get excited over the prospect of the discovery of a new species of fungi. Not that Erik doesn't think a new species of fungi is… interesting. It dawns on him that Charles probably doesn't know that. He should let him know, and then the both of them can go to more science exhibits without Charles feeling like he's dragging Erik around, boring him to death.
And he likes to read. He's more into learning different languages than thesis statements about the multiplication of cells but still, a book is a book.
Right?
Erik looks at the clock again. Twelve forty-seven. He turns away from it onto his other side and punches his pillow into shape. When he shuts his eyes tight, resolutely bypassing anymore thought about Charles, Hank McCoy, and what might be going on at this stage of their date, it feels like a rebellion.
o o o
Did you have a good time?
It's Saturday, and Erik and Charles are in the park by Charles' house. They lay on the grass, in the sprawling shade of their favorite huge elm. Erik darts a glance over to Charles, but his face is turned upwards, eyes closed. He's displeased to see a small smile curving Charles' lips. He looks away.
Yes. It was surprisingly enjoyable.
Why surprisingly?
Well, Hank never really seemed one for the humor. He's usually so quiet, you know?
Yeah… They fall quiet and the sound of kids screaming 'you're it', and the click of bike stokes fill the silence. After a few minutes Erik asks, What did you two do?
Just dinner, and the exhibit. Then we got ice cream and sat on the beach, talking.
Erik tries to infuse his thoughts with good humor, even though his stomach is doing an odd maneuver he's yet to feel ever before in all of his sixteen years. Just talking?
Yes, Erik.
So you wouldn't know if he's a good kisser?
Charles doesn't answer right away and Erik feels his heart drop a few notches. Straight into the wriggling mess of knots that used to be his stomach. He's simultaneously happy and frustrated that Charles has learned boundaries when it comes to his telepathy. Maybe if he broke his own rules he could tell Erik why he feels like shit. He feigns good spirits. Aha! Fess up. And why is he doing this to himself? Why does he keep asking quest-?
It was nothing serious. Charles pauses again, and Erik doesn't need to look over to know that his smile has gotten a little bigger. Just a kiss goodnight.
Good enough for a second date?
Maybe.
Yes.
…Alright, yes. We're going to the movies Friday night.
Friday, huh? Erik hates himself the moment he projects it over to Charles. He doesn't want to seem needy. And sure, he doesn't like it that fucking Hank McCoy (and when did his name become a epithet) has stolen his best friend for the second Friday in a row, but that doesn't mean Charles shouldn't go and enjoy himself.
Yes… Now Charles sounds unsure. That is alright isn't it? I could-
No, no. It's fine. I think I have plans anyway.
Oh?
Yeah, uh, I was thinking of asking Emma out. Well if he wasn't before, he is now. He wants to dwell on the fact that she will probably say no, as rumor has it she's dating some Californian transplant nicknamed Riptide, but he's too busy fixated on the fact that he just gave into the insane urge to lie to his best friend about something so stupid.
Oh. Charles sounds funny. Erik isn't imagining it. He's not. That's… we'll both have dates.
I guess so. Erik shrugs mentally and all falls quiet again.
Everything stays the same - the kids scream, and the bikes ride past, and the birds tweet. But something has shifted. He can feel it and he knows Charles does to.
Something is different and Erik doesn't like it.
o o o
The warm sun shines down on his skin through the break in the leaves and Charles contemplates telling Erik that Hank thought they were together. That apparently the whole student body thinks they're dating and madly in love, but decides against it.
It would be a laugh, that's it.
What would it accomplish, really?
o o o
"Dead man walking," Alex says right into his ear, lips brushing against the shell, and Hank whips his head around.
"What are you talking about?"
Alex nods his head and Hank looks around in the same direction. Despite the noise and what seems like hundreds of students milling around the hall, his eyes are immediately drawn to Charles who is digging around for something in his locker. His mind goes to goo for a second; just as it has ever other time he remembers leaning down to finally kiss him. He recalls the fresh, sweet taste of the other boy's mouth and feels his own begin to break out into a goofy grin. He wants to sink into the memory, but the sudden prickling on the back of his neck has Hank looking up to stare directly into Erik Lensherr's eyes.
He does not look happy.
At all.
In fact, if Hank wasn't sure that Lensherr wasn't a killer he'd be extremely worried. He still is really worried, to be honest. Lensherr glares at Hank, eyes a flinty, and furious kind of green that reminds him of grenades, and Hank feels a shudder zip up his spine. The other boy doesn't blink, holding Hank hostage with how hostile he appears. Hank feels like he's staring down a hardened dog, his only reward for looking away being sharp teeth around his throat.
Finally, Erik looks away when Charles slams his locker shut and nudges his arm. Hank tears his gaze away from Erik, who is now smiling down warmly at Charles. As if he wasn't just promising Hank a slow death with his eyes.
Sean flips his shaggy red hair out of his eyes, gives a low, sharp whistle and leans his back against the lockers. "Man, he is one scary motherfucker."
"I'm just surprised you actually did it." Alex says, and sounds just as impressed as he did the first time Hank told him Charles said yes.
"Course he did," Sean replies, pushing himself away from tan metal. "He's stupid enough." He turns to Hank and slaps his palm down on his shoulder, expression mockingly somber. "Man, you must really want that English ass. Good thing you can run."
He and Alex burst into laughter and Hank swallows around the sudden lump in his throat.