Fic: Beneath The Surface - (6/?)
Title: Beneath the Surface (6/?), Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5
Fandom: X-Men: First Class, Charles/Erik
Genre: AU; Drama/Romance
Rating: PG-13 for this chapter, possibly up to NC-17 later.
Word Count: 4339
Summary: Charles is a young marine biologist and activist that, one day, makes the find of his lifetime. Inspired by this fanart
Author's Note: Still un-beta'ed. And sorry, I've been horrible with replying to all the lovely feedback you've given me. I'll promise to reply more in the future again, but I've been very busy lately.
The lovely raver_sprite made a gorgeous fanart to a scene in Chapter 2. You should all go and take a look if you haven't yet. I was so, so extremely flattered and touched!!! ♥
Furthermore, I dedicate this chapter to shadadukal who reminded me of a little detail that prompted the main idea for this one. Not gonna say anything so I won't spoil you others ^^
So, if any of you also have ideas or see something I've missed or haven't considered (or if you find any stupid typos or other errors) please go ahead and tell me. I won't bite... as Erik may do :D
Charles was in a state of constant alertness and concentration these days. It was becoming extremely straining to watch his every word, careful not to let anything slip that didn't fit into the picture of the story they had given the others, also careful not to say anything in front of Agnes whom he had decided to leave in the dark, and last but not least anxious about the questions Alex or Hank might ask Erik. Even though less than 48 hours had passed since Hank's arrival, Charles felt the toll his efforts were taking, heavy on his shoulders and quite literally on his eyelids as sleep had not come easy to him the past two nights. He was just really grateful for Raven and Irene who both helped him best they could, though he could not quite explain why Irene seemed so willing to accept only the details they were revealing. His previous assumption about her suspecting something was confirmed frequently when she diverted Alex' or Hank's attention upon asking a question that could not be answered, or by the way she never asked anything herself, and Charles guessed that she simply trusted him and especially Raven that they had a good reason in not telling her everything.
He had asked Raven last afternoon whether she had told Irene the whole story, but his sister had sworn to have done no such thing. Maybe, as someone that had studied psychology and was working with children, Irene just possessed more insight and also patience, he thought.
"Are there hazelnuts in the chocolate spread," Hank asked Erik that morning as they all sat in the dining room, having breakfast, and Erik looked up across the table in mild confusion.
"I'm allergic," Hank explained and pointed at the jar standing next to Erik's plate. "It should say on the back."
Again, as with so many small and seemingly irrelevant little things in the past, Charles sensed an upcoming disaster of something that could seem suspicious, and even though it maybe was something that could have easily been averted, he felt exhausted by it, his mind strained to come up with a quick solution. He hadn't bothered yet to ask whether Erik could read.
Obviously unsure what to do, Erik took up the jar and turned it, squinting at the small letters on the back. Whether he could or could not read them was, thankfully, not revealed as in that moment Raven snatched the jar from his hands and replied for him.
"Hank, see this?" she asked, and smiled at him teasingly as she pointed her finger on a small hazelnut on the label. "Besides, it's called Nutella. As in 'nut'."
Hank looked at little embarrassed but let out a brief chuckle, nodding but his gaze directed at his plate. "Well, I don't know any of that imported European stuff."
"You can buy it here, just not everywhere," Alex replied and shrugged. "And it's fucking expensive. I prefer peanut butter anyway. Or are you allergic to that as well?"
Hank shook his head but reached for the plate with pancakes and helped himself to another two. "God, I'm glad I don't have any food allergies," Alex went on. "A buddy of mine is lactose intolerant. Give him just so much as a drop of milk and you don't want to be near him in the next twenty-four hours. The gas could blow up an entire hou-" He stopped himself quite abruptly, looking down at his plate of eggs and bacon, but Charles was pretty sure he would have ended the sentence with 'house'.
"Speaking of which, Alex, have you heard back from any of your friends?" The night of Hank's arrival they had all sat in the living room until well into the early morning, discussing their options and strategies, and Alex had called a few of his friends back in the Hamptons to keep an eye out for Shaw - of course without being seen - and also ask around for any sign that someone had set fire to the house, though the latter was pretty unlikely.
"Yeah, Tom texted me. But I don't think it's anything we could use. Shaw's having one of his yacht parties tonight, that's all."
"So, at least he's not gonna show up here," Hank said, seeming relieved at the information.
"Though even if he did, we are pretty safe here, right?" Alex asked and Raven nodded.
"Yeah. One stupid thing he tries and it's all on tape. He would have to cut the power to the entire mansion for the security system to stop working, and even then it still runs on battery for a while."
"Four hours," Charles confirmed, thinking that in the highly unlikely event that they really should lose power due to someone tempering with the lines they'd still have their cell phones and enough time to call the police.
"So, what else do we have then?" Hank asked, and Charles felt a sigh rise in his throat as he could not give any satisfactory reply.
He had considered so many options, some of which he had discussed with specific members of their group alone. One thought had been prompted by Hank who had suggested Erik should enter a witness protection program, though of course that was difficult with the fact that there was no record of Erik even existing in the first place, no birth certificate, passport or anything. He had, however, looked into it, thought through the scenario of just making up a story about him having been born without his mother registering him. They would not be able to deport him because there was no other possible country of origin to consider, and imprisonment just for having lived outside of society his whole life was off the menu as well. But that would mean, aside from a lot of thought and effort to make the story seem legitimate, he'd have to go into hiding, possibly somewhere inland and not where Shaw might go looking for him. And that was something Charles did not want to subject Erik to.
So the only chance they really had, also to protect themselves and everyone already unintentionally involved, was to find something on Shaw that would put him behind bars. Some proof for him involving in illegal business, even something as trivial as tax fraud, forgery of documents or bribery - crimes that were very likely to be on Shaw's list. A friend of his at Greenpeace had told him some time ago that a colleague, a lawyer that worked for a firm uncovering environmental violations and similar, had been close to finding something some time ago, and he still waited to hear back from that friend, though chances were slim.
"Great. Nothing I guess," Hank sighed after no one had replied.
"Give it some time. Something's gonna come up sooner or later," Irene said consolingly, and Charles saw Raven give her girlfriend a grateful, rather touched smile before reaching over and squeezed her hand as a non-visual version of her facial expression.
They all rather quickly resumed eating as Agnes walked in and asked them if they wanted more pancakes or anything else. Charles felt rather guilty about not having invited her to sit with them as she usually did, but luckily she had already had a small breakfast earlier in the morning before most of them had woken up. Avoiding and excluding her completely, however, was neither easy nor pleasant.
"I don't know about you guys, but I'm stuffed," Alex said and leaned back, smiling at Agnes brightly. "Best breakfast ever."
"Oh, thank you, dear, but you already said that yesterday," the elderly woman said, returning the smile with motherly warmth as she reached for the middle of the table to remove the empty plates.
"Agnes, please, we're going to clear the table ourselves," Charles said quickly. "It's the least we can do after you've provided us with this excellent breakfast."
"Oh, don't be silly, Charles," she said and tutted. "I hardly have anything to do all year. It's a pleasure. Oh, you have something there, dear," she added in a lowered tone to Erik, brushing her index finger over her own upper lip before she took three empty plates and bowls and carried them back into the kitchen.
Erik repeated the movement with a moment's hesitation, and, as Charles turned towards him, he had to smile at seeing a hint of chocolate above the upper lip. Raven, on the opposite side of the table, lifted her napkin and dabbed at her mouth as low-key as possible to show him how it was done.
"Maybe you should shave," Alex said, the tone of his voice and his grin indicating that he didn't mean it in a serious but probably rather teasing way. Over the past few days, Erik had grown quite a scruff, its shade more gingery than his hair, and without giving it too much thought Charles found that it suited him quite well.
The lack of response coming from Erik, however, spoke clearly of something that wasn't hard to guess: he probably didn't even know how to do that.
"I don't know," Raven said, probably guessing the same. "It looks rather good on him."
Erik raised his eyebrows but brought his hand up to feel his cheeks and jawline. "Maybe I should," he said, and it almost sounded like a question. His gaze briefly flickered to Charles then, but it was impossible to tell whether he was looking for confirmation or asking for help, so Charles decided to, once again, play a little theater and come up with something nobody would find odd.
"Oh, I haven't given you a razor, have I?" he asked and gave Erik a very small, very slow nod while raising one eyebrow to prompt him to play along.
"No, you haven't."
"Do you want to go upstairs so I can give you one then?"
His forehead twisting for a second, gaze going back to Raven who shrugged but smiled, Erik finally nodded and, after Charles had done so first, got up from his seat.
"Okay, we'll clear the table," Raven announced and started putting their used plates and cutlery together with the other three following suit.
Out of earshot and on their way up the stairs, Charles turned toward Erik. "Sorry about that, but I'm sure everyone assumes that you would know how to shave. You do not, do you?"
A faint smirk curled around the corners of Erik's mouth as they climbed the stairs. "No. I didn't have beard growth as a twelve-year-old."
"Thought so," Charles replied, also feeling a small, amused grin on his features. "You don't have to shave, though, if you don't want to. It's up to you. Alex was only joking, you know. There are plenty of men that wear beards."
"No, I think I'd prefer it without. It feels rather odd," Erik replied as they reached the upper hallway, making their way towards Charles' bedroom with his own attached bathroom.
"Hm yeah. I had a beard once. Raven said it suited me really well but my girlfriend back then wasn't very fond of it."
Erik tilted his head a little and regarded Charles with furrowed brow. "Your… girlfriend? What happened to her?"
It struck Charles then what Erik must think in that moment, the clearly sympathetic look on his features proving it as they stood in the bathroom. Feeling rather touched at the other man's concern, Charles gave a soft laugh. "Oh, nothing happened to her. We just realized we were no good match for each other after a while. So we ended our relationship."
Although Erik did not reply to that it wasn't hard to guess that the information confused him a little, his brow still furrowed ever so slightly and gaze drifting to some unspecified point on the bathroom wall. Charles' mind reeled around the implications as he opened the cabinet above the sink and looked for shaving cream and razor.
"Does…" he started, almost intending to end the question with something entirely different than what he had in mind. Turning towards Erik again and seeing his slightly raised brows, prompting him to continue, Charles did so in the end. "Does your kind only mate for life?"
Erik's brows briefly twisted up, and he shrugged in a minuscule movement. "At least my parents did. And my grandparents." The thoughtful expression was replaced by a slightly amused one again. "So your kind is more like real sharks than mine, in that matter. I had gotten a different impression from those movies you all always watch."
Charles felt a chuckle coming over his lips, though his eyes were averted for a moment, his mind still on what Erik's last bit of information entailed: if his species normally mated for life and he had no mate, then…
"Well, movies aren't a very representative portrayal of reality," he explained instead of dwelling on the previous thought. "Even if they try to be realistic they very often aren't. They're meant to entertain and let the audience experience something they can't in their real lives."
"Like mermaids," Erik said.
"Like mermaids," Charles replied, smiling. "So, um… do you want me to show you how it's done or…" he held up the razor in one hand as he stood by the sink, not quite sure how to approach the subject. He knew many teenage boys had learned shaving from their fathers or older brothers, but so far he had never had the opportunity to pass this piece of knowledge to someone else (except for maybe Raven, who had asked him how to avoid razor burn when shaving she had started shaving her legs at the age of fourteen). The thought of shaving Erik now caused a rather strange feeling to stir in his stomach.
"I think I should learn how to do it," Erik replied, and that odd sensation in Charles' stomach faded, leaving something almost like disappointment.
"Yes, of course. Okay, first we need some water," he said and let some run into the sink. "As warm as possible. Then we take the shaving cream," he continued and handed Erik the can. "Shake it a little and then you press that button here and fill your palm. Yeah, like that. Okay, that's enough." He had to chuckle at the look on Erik's features who seemed quite astonished at the sounds the can was producing and possibly also at the unusual texture and smell of the foam. But Erik did not let this distract him and listened intently to Charles' instructions.
It really was a strange situation, but quite amusing in fact… also a little heart-warming as he watched Erik do as he had explained, quite adeptly so, applying the foam to his face. Just once or twice Charles had to lift his hand and mimic the movements Erik should do or pointed at a spot that wasn't sufficiently covered by foam yet.
"So, your father never shaved then?" Charles asked, looking at Erik through the mirror and biting his lower lip at the rather skeptical look in the other man's eyes.
"No. He had a beard. But I think my grandmother cut it for him sometimes."
"Ah," Charles nodded. "Well, alright. So this is the razor. You hold it like this," he showed him, bringing the item to his own face to indicate the right angle. "You shave with the hair growth first, not against it or your skin might get irritated. That means top down. Works best if you tilt your head like this," he said and showed him.
Putting the razor in Erik's hand then, Charles watched carefully as Erik lifted it to his face, his green eyes darting from his own reflection to Charles, still skeptical.
Charles nodded in reassurance, and at last, Erik put the razor to his skin, in the middle of his right cheek and pulled it down very slowly.
"Hm, okay, I think you can apply a little more pressure," Charles said after Erik had completed the first line, still some residue foam on his skin and stubble visible in it. "Hang on." And without thinking about it twice, Charles took a step closer and wrapped his hand around Erik's right, lifting it gently and bringing the razor to his face. "Slow is good, but you can press down a little more. See? You wouldn't easily cut yourself. You just have to be a little bit more careful around the mouth." Rinsing the razor in between, he let go of Erik's hand after the first two lines and smiled. "There. Now try by yourself."
Erik's brow was furrowed in concentration, and he leaned in a bit closer towards the mirror while Charles watched, the smile never fully fading from his lips. It looked like Erik was learning this quite quickly, though he was still careful and slow in his movements. "Now strain your upper lip like this," Charles said and showed him in the mirror, watching Erik mimic him perfectly until every bit of shaving foam had come off.
"It's not smooth yet," Erik said, having run his other hand along his left cheek and jaw.
"No, now you have to do it against the growth. After that it should be perfect," he explained and waited while Erik coated his face with shaving cream again and started anew, following the directions Charles was giving him. A few minutes later, the sink was full of foam and stubbles and Erik's face as hairless as it had been the night he had pulled him from the water.
"Good?"
Erik now turned to face him, his hand once more running across his shaved skin before he nodded.
"Oh, you cut yourself a little after all," Charles said as he noticed a small red spot right below Erik's jawline, close to his left ear. "Hang on," he said and took a kleenex from the box next to the sink, and he very gently and carefully started dabbing at the tiny cut, the pleasant scent of shaving foam in his nose and the feel of Erik's now perfectly smooth, still slightly moist skin beneath his fingers. For a split-second, unexpected, unbidden, he saw himself lean in and kiss Erik. He blinked quite rapidly, as if to chase off the mental image, and he lowered his gaze to the sink, head bowed and hoping his cheeks had not turned red as he felt sudden warmth on them.
"D-do you want some aftershave? That's quite good to soothe the skin. It might burn a little for a second, though. You can also just wash your face with cold water," he said with a neutral, back to business tone - or as closely to it as he could muster, ignoring what he had just thought about and the resulting questions spinning in circles through his head.
"I will try it," Erik said. He had become more eager to at least try everything once, discovering the world of the land-walkers, as he called them, as curiously as Charles would his. And he hoped the reply was a sign that Erik was completely oblivious to the intimacy of the situation just a moment ago, and more so to the sudden embarrassment in Charles, though when he lifted his head again after having emptied and rinsed the sink and met Erik's gaze, Charles could have sworn to see a very subtle quizzical look in Erik's eyes.
"Okay, here, take this one," he said then, briefly pondering two different products he had in his cabinet. "It's not as strong as the other one. It's a lotion," he explained and suddenly remembered the earlier incident around the table. "So, you can't read then?"
"I can," Erik replied. "Though it's been a while. I would have to practice again."
Charles felt like smacking his face at having implied Erik to be uneducated, but the other man seemed to take no offense in the question. He did give Charles a questioning glance then, though, as he held the bottle of aftershave lotion in his hand.
"Screw it open and then pour a small amount onto your hand and gently rub it onto your skin. Yeah, that's enough. Good, yes, like that."
Erik let out a low sound, a snort of amusement as it seemed, and he softly shook his head. “It's some effort, being a land-walker. How often do you have to do this?”
Charles felt a laugh escape his lips quite easily as he put his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leaned backward against the sink cupboard. “Every day.”
“Every day?”
“Yes, every day,” Charles replied, shrugging apologetically. “Of course only if you want it perfectly smooth. Otherwise you can just let it grow until it annoys you again. There's no convention for that.” And the scruff had indeed suited him quite well, accentuating his prominent jawline, the somewhat ginger shade of it in nice contrast to his sea-green eyes.
Quite suddenly, Charles felt his cheeks heat up again, his heart beating a little faster in his chest with something quite close to shock. Shock at the awareness of what was happening in him, and he wanted to slap himself or step into the shower under an ice-cold spray to drown out these thoughts. It wasn't the first time he felt attracted to another man - in college he had, as so many, messed around a little. Experimented, lived out a bi-curious phase. Because it had been chic to freely explore human sexuality without regards of social conventions. But it had been just that: a phase, triggered by inebriated discussions about Freud's theories and the history of homosexuality and its status in society.
In over seven years he had not had the desire to revive that side in him, had been quite happy with the female gender as his only target - though his efforts had not resulted in much lately. The latter could be due to the fact that, yes, as his sister had said on various occasions, his expectations had gotten too high over time. He wasn't content anymore with random hookups with pretty girls that could not share his passion for the oceans, his political and philosophical views. He used to be so flirty, so open and carefree, but maybe, at some point in (almost) every man's life, messing around just wasn't enough anymore.
He should not be thinking about Erik in either scenario, however. At all. And he had to mentally tell himself that, no, this wasn't some silly Disney movie or 80s rom-com but a really serious situation in which his own longing and desire was absolutely irrelevant. And impossible to fulfill, he added as an afterthought as he put the shaving utensils back into the cabinet and wiped the surface around the sink with an already used towel.
He only noticed then that Erik was watching him, his gaze rather piercing as if he was trying to figure something out, and with an even greater shock Charles remembered that Erik could, on a rudimentary level, sense a person's mood such as fear or elation because he could pick up the electromagnetic waves. Maybe even hear their heart-beat with his inhumanely sharp senses. Charles turned his head a little as he put the towel away, pressing his eyes shut for a moment and willing himself to just forget about it all. Not let such thoughts rise and manifest in the first place... before it was too late.
“Alright. Done,” he said and forced himself to smile casually at Erik as he turned back around, ignoring the slightly quizzical look on the other man's features. He nodded towards the open door, prompting Erik to go first and then followed, stepping back into the bedroom.
It was still the same room that he had as a child, though, naturally, it had changed over the years. Raven had the master bedroom which he had gladly given to her, not needing the bigger space or bigger bathroom. Charles realized then that it was the first time Erik was in here, and he could see the other man looking around the room, finding the shelves on one side of it, lined with books from floor to ceiling and the small table by them with a chess set on it. “This looks familiar,” he said and pointed at it.
“It does?” Charles asked, surprised as he saw Erik nod.
“My grandmother had one as well. You can play two different games on it, right?”
“Yes, checkers and chess,” Charles replied, stepping closer to the small table. The set was an antique, hand-carved pieces on a solid, non-foldable wooden board in dark chestnut brown and ivory, not like the modern versions in plastic black and white. “Do you play?”
Erik tilted his head to and fro, his lips pursed in a pondering but skeptic expression. “I'm not sure I still remember it enough. She tried to teach me both, but we mostly played the other one. With the flat, round pieces.”
“Ah, checkers then,” Charles said. He was already inclined to just continue toward the door, bring some distance between them to snap out of that odd and completely inappropriate attraction he had felt, but the thing was... he didn't really want to. At least not when he saw Erik's long fingers carefully run across the black King, his eyes fixed on the pieces, brow knitted in thought.
It didn't need to mean anything; he was adult enough to treat their friendship responsibly. And so, feeling a sudden grin on his lips, Charles stepped closer. “So... if you'd like me to refresh your memory we could give chess a go.”
To his great pleasure, Erik turned around with a smile on his lips. “I would like that.”
~ TBC ~
Chapter 7
Fandom: X-Men: First Class, Charles/Erik
Genre: AU; Drama/Romance
Rating: PG-13 for this chapter, possibly up to NC-17 later.
Word Count: 4339
Summary: Charles is a young marine biologist and activist that, one day, makes the find of his lifetime. Inspired by this fanart
Author's Note: Still un-beta'ed. And sorry, I've been horrible with replying to all the lovely feedback you've given me. I'll promise to reply more in the future again, but I've been very busy lately.
The lovely raver_sprite made a gorgeous fanart to a scene in Chapter 2. You should all go and take a look if you haven't yet. I was so, so extremely flattered and touched!!! ♥
Furthermore, I dedicate this chapter to shadadukal who reminded me of a little detail that prompted the main idea for this one. Not gonna say anything so I won't spoil you others ^^
So, if any of you also have ideas or see something I've missed or haven't considered (or if you find any stupid typos or other errors) please go ahead and tell me. I won't bite... as Erik may do :D
Charles was in a state of constant alertness and concentration these days. It was becoming extremely straining to watch his every word, careful not to let anything slip that didn't fit into the picture of the story they had given the others, also careful not to say anything in front of Agnes whom he had decided to leave in the dark, and last but not least anxious about the questions Alex or Hank might ask Erik. Even though less than 48 hours had passed since Hank's arrival, Charles felt the toll his efforts were taking, heavy on his shoulders and quite literally on his eyelids as sleep had not come easy to him the past two nights. He was just really grateful for Raven and Irene who both helped him best they could, though he could not quite explain why Irene seemed so willing to accept only the details they were revealing. His previous assumption about her suspecting something was confirmed frequently when she diverted Alex' or Hank's attention upon asking a question that could not be answered, or by the way she never asked anything herself, and Charles guessed that she simply trusted him and especially Raven that they had a good reason in not telling her everything.
He had asked Raven last afternoon whether she had told Irene the whole story, but his sister had sworn to have done no such thing. Maybe, as someone that had studied psychology and was working with children, Irene just possessed more insight and also patience, he thought.
"Are there hazelnuts in the chocolate spread," Hank asked Erik that morning as they all sat in the dining room, having breakfast, and Erik looked up across the table in mild confusion.
"I'm allergic," Hank explained and pointed at the jar standing next to Erik's plate. "It should say on the back."
Again, as with so many small and seemingly irrelevant little things in the past, Charles sensed an upcoming disaster of something that could seem suspicious, and even though it maybe was something that could have easily been averted, he felt exhausted by it, his mind strained to come up with a quick solution. He hadn't bothered yet to ask whether Erik could read.
Obviously unsure what to do, Erik took up the jar and turned it, squinting at the small letters on the back. Whether he could or could not read them was, thankfully, not revealed as in that moment Raven snatched the jar from his hands and replied for him.
"Hank, see this?" she asked, and smiled at him teasingly as she pointed her finger on a small hazelnut on the label. "Besides, it's called Nutella. As in 'nut'."
Hank looked at little embarrassed but let out a brief chuckle, nodding but his gaze directed at his plate. "Well, I don't know any of that imported European stuff."
"You can buy it here, just not everywhere," Alex replied and shrugged. "And it's fucking expensive. I prefer peanut butter anyway. Or are you allergic to that as well?"
Hank shook his head but reached for the plate with pancakes and helped himself to another two. "God, I'm glad I don't have any food allergies," Alex went on. "A buddy of mine is lactose intolerant. Give him just so much as a drop of milk and you don't want to be near him in the next twenty-four hours. The gas could blow up an entire hou-" He stopped himself quite abruptly, looking down at his plate of eggs and bacon, but Charles was pretty sure he would have ended the sentence with 'house'.
"Speaking of which, Alex, have you heard back from any of your friends?" The night of Hank's arrival they had all sat in the living room until well into the early morning, discussing their options and strategies, and Alex had called a few of his friends back in the Hamptons to keep an eye out for Shaw - of course without being seen - and also ask around for any sign that someone had set fire to the house, though the latter was pretty unlikely.
"Yeah, Tom texted me. But I don't think it's anything we could use. Shaw's having one of his yacht parties tonight, that's all."
"So, at least he's not gonna show up here," Hank said, seeming relieved at the information.
"Though even if he did, we are pretty safe here, right?" Alex asked and Raven nodded.
"Yeah. One stupid thing he tries and it's all on tape. He would have to cut the power to the entire mansion for the security system to stop working, and even then it still runs on battery for a while."
"Four hours," Charles confirmed, thinking that in the highly unlikely event that they really should lose power due to someone tempering with the lines they'd still have their cell phones and enough time to call the police.
"So, what else do we have then?" Hank asked, and Charles felt a sigh rise in his throat as he could not give any satisfactory reply.
He had considered so many options, some of which he had discussed with specific members of their group alone. One thought had been prompted by Hank who had suggested Erik should enter a witness protection program, though of course that was difficult with the fact that there was no record of Erik even existing in the first place, no birth certificate, passport or anything. He had, however, looked into it, thought through the scenario of just making up a story about him having been born without his mother registering him. They would not be able to deport him because there was no other possible country of origin to consider, and imprisonment just for having lived outside of society his whole life was off the menu as well. But that would mean, aside from a lot of thought and effort to make the story seem legitimate, he'd have to go into hiding, possibly somewhere inland and not where Shaw might go looking for him. And that was something Charles did not want to subject Erik to.
So the only chance they really had, also to protect themselves and everyone already unintentionally involved, was to find something on Shaw that would put him behind bars. Some proof for him involving in illegal business, even something as trivial as tax fraud, forgery of documents or bribery - crimes that were very likely to be on Shaw's list. A friend of his at Greenpeace had told him some time ago that a colleague, a lawyer that worked for a firm uncovering environmental violations and similar, had been close to finding something some time ago, and he still waited to hear back from that friend, though chances were slim.
"Great. Nothing I guess," Hank sighed after no one had replied.
"Give it some time. Something's gonna come up sooner or later," Irene said consolingly, and Charles saw Raven give her girlfriend a grateful, rather touched smile before reaching over and squeezed her hand as a non-visual version of her facial expression.
They all rather quickly resumed eating as Agnes walked in and asked them if they wanted more pancakes or anything else. Charles felt rather guilty about not having invited her to sit with them as she usually did, but luckily she had already had a small breakfast earlier in the morning before most of them had woken up. Avoiding and excluding her completely, however, was neither easy nor pleasant.
"I don't know about you guys, but I'm stuffed," Alex said and leaned back, smiling at Agnes brightly. "Best breakfast ever."
"Oh, thank you, dear, but you already said that yesterday," the elderly woman said, returning the smile with motherly warmth as she reached for the middle of the table to remove the empty plates.
"Agnes, please, we're going to clear the table ourselves," Charles said quickly. "It's the least we can do after you've provided us with this excellent breakfast."
"Oh, don't be silly, Charles," she said and tutted. "I hardly have anything to do all year. It's a pleasure. Oh, you have something there, dear," she added in a lowered tone to Erik, brushing her index finger over her own upper lip before she took three empty plates and bowls and carried them back into the kitchen.
Erik repeated the movement with a moment's hesitation, and, as Charles turned towards him, he had to smile at seeing a hint of chocolate above the upper lip. Raven, on the opposite side of the table, lifted her napkin and dabbed at her mouth as low-key as possible to show him how it was done.
"Maybe you should shave," Alex said, the tone of his voice and his grin indicating that he didn't mean it in a serious but probably rather teasing way. Over the past few days, Erik had grown quite a scruff, its shade more gingery than his hair, and without giving it too much thought Charles found that it suited him quite well.
The lack of response coming from Erik, however, spoke clearly of something that wasn't hard to guess: he probably didn't even know how to do that.
"I don't know," Raven said, probably guessing the same. "It looks rather good on him."
Erik raised his eyebrows but brought his hand up to feel his cheeks and jawline. "Maybe I should," he said, and it almost sounded like a question. His gaze briefly flickered to Charles then, but it was impossible to tell whether he was looking for confirmation or asking for help, so Charles decided to, once again, play a little theater and come up with something nobody would find odd.
"Oh, I haven't given you a razor, have I?" he asked and gave Erik a very small, very slow nod while raising one eyebrow to prompt him to play along.
"No, you haven't."
"Do you want to go upstairs so I can give you one then?"
His forehead twisting for a second, gaze going back to Raven who shrugged but smiled, Erik finally nodded and, after Charles had done so first, got up from his seat.
"Okay, we'll clear the table," Raven announced and started putting their used plates and cutlery together with the other three following suit.
Out of earshot and on their way up the stairs, Charles turned toward Erik. "Sorry about that, but I'm sure everyone assumes that you would know how to shave. You do not, do you?"
A faint smirk curled around the corners of Erik's mouth as they climbed the stairs. "No. I didn't have beard growth as a twelve-year-old."
"Thought so," Charles replied, also feeling a small, amused grin on his features. "You don't have to shave, though, if you don't want to. It's up to you. Alex was only joking, you know. There are plenty of men that wear beards."
"No, I think I'd prefer it without. It feels rather odd," Erik replied as they reached the upper hallway, making their way towards Charles' bedroom with his own attached bathroom.
"Hm yeah. I had a beard once. Raven said it suited me really well but my girlfriend back then wasn't very fond of it."
Erik tilted his head a little and regarded Charles with furrowed brow. "Your… girlfriend? What happened to her?"
It struck Charles then what Erik must think in that moment, the clearly sympathetic look on his features proving it as they stood in the bathroom. Feeling rather touched at the other man's concern, Charles gave a soft laugh. "Oh, nothing happened to her. We just realized we were no good match for each other after a while. So we ended our relationship."
Although Erik did not reply to that it wasn't hard to guess that the information confused him a little, his brow still furrowed ever so slightly and gaze drifting to some unspecified point on the bathroom wall. Charles' mind reeled around the implications as he opened the cabinet above the sink and looked for shaving cream and razor.
"Does…" he started, almost intending to end the question with something entirely different than what he had in mind. Turning towards Erik again and seeing his slightly raised brows, prompting him to continue, Charles did so in the end. "Does your kind only mate for life?"
Erik's brows briefly twisted up, and he shrugged in a minuscule movement. "At least my parents did. And my grandparents." The thoughtful expression was replaced by a slightly amused one again. "So your kind is more like real sharks than mine, in that matter. I had gotten a different impression from those movies you all always watch."
Charles felt a chuckle coming over his lips, though his eyes were averted for a moment, his mind still on what Erik's last bit of information entailed: if his species normally mated for life and he had no mate, then…
"Well, movies aren't a very representative portrayal of reality," he explained instead of dwelling on the previous thought. "Even if they try to be realistic they very often aren't. They're meant to entertain and let the audience experience something they can't in their real lives."
"Like mermaids," Erik said.
"Like mermaids," Charles replied, smiling. "So, um… do you want me to show you how it's done or…" he held up the razor in one hand as he stood by the sink, not quite sure how to approach the subject. He knew many teenage boys had learned shaving from their fathers or older brothers, but so far he had never had the opportunity to pass this piece of knowledge to someone else (except for maybe Raven, who had asked him how to avoid razor burn when shaving she had started shaving her legs at the age of fourteen). The thought of shaving Erik now caused a rather strange feeling to stir in his stomach.
"I think I should learn how to do it," Erik replied, and that odd sensation in Charles' stomach faded, leaving something almost like disappointment.
"Yes, of course. Okay, first we need some water," he said and let some run into the sink. "As warm as possible. Then we take the shaving cream," he continued and handed Erik the can. "Shake it a little and then you press that button here and fill your palm. Yeah, like that. Okay, that's enough." He had to chuckle at the look on Erik's features who seemed quite astonished at the sounds the can was producing and possibly also at the unusual texture and smell of the foam. But Erik did not let this distract him and listened intently to Charles' instructions.
It really was a strange situation, but quite amusing in fact… also a little heart-warming as he watched Erik do as he had explained, quite adeptly so, applying the foam to his face. Just once or twice Charles had to lift his hand and mimic the movements Erik should do or pointed at a spot that wasn't sufficiently covered by foam yet.
"So, your father never shaved then?" Charles asked, looking at Erik through the mirror and biting his lower lip at the rather skeptical look in the other man's eyes.
"No. He had a beard. But I think my grandmother cut it for him sometimes."
"Ah," Charles nodded. "Well, alright. So this is the razor. You hold it like this," he showed him, bringing the item to his own face to indicate the right angle. "You shave with the hair growth first, not against it or your skin might get irritated. That means top down. Works best if you tilt your head like this," he said and showed him.
Putting the razor in Erik's hand then, Charles watched carefully as Erik lifted it to his face, his green eyes darting from his own reflection to Charles, still skeptical.
Charles nodded in reassurance, and at last, Erik put the razor to his skin, in the middle of his right cheek and pulled it down very slowly.
"Hm, okay, I think you can apply a little more pressure," Charles said after Erik had completed the first line, still some residue foam on his skin and stubble visible in it. "Hang on." And without thinking about it twice, Charles took a step closer and wrapped his hand around Erik's right, lifting it gently and bringing the razor to his face. "Slow is good, but you can press down a little more. See? You wouldn't easily cut yourself. You just have to be a little bit more careful around the mouth." Rinsing the razor in between, he let go of Erik's hand after the first two lines and smiled. "There. Now try by yourself."
Erik's brow was furrowed in concentration, and he leaned in a bit closer towards the mirror while Charles watched, the smile never fully fading from his lips. It looked like Erik was learning this quite quickly, though he was still careful and slow in his movements. "Now strain your upper lip like this," Charles said and showed him in the mirror, watching Erik mimic him perfectly until every bit of shaving foam had come off.
"It's not smooth yet," Erik said, having run his other hand along his left cheek and jaw.
"No, now you have to do it against the growth. After that it should be perfect," he explained and waited while Erik coated his face with shaving cream again and started anew, following the directions Charles was giving him. A few minutes later, the sink was full of foam and stubbles and Erik's face as hairless as it had been the night he had pulled him from the water.
"Good?"
Erik now turned to face him, his hand once more running across his shaved skin before he nodded.
"Oh, you cut yourself a little after all," Charles said as he noticed a small red spot right below Erik's jawline, close to his left ear. "Hang on," he said and took a kleenex from the box next to the sink, and he very gently and carefully started dabbing at the tiny cut, the pleasant scent of shaving foam in his nose and the feel of Erik's now perfectly smooth, still slightly moist skin beneath his fingers. For a split-second, unexpected, unbidden, he saw himself lean in and kiss Erik. He blinked quite rapidly, as if to chase off the mental image, and he lowered his gaze to the sink, head bowed and hoping his cheeks had not turned red as he felt sudden warmth on them.
"D-do you want some aftershave? That's quite good to soothe the skin. It might burn a little for a second, though. You can also just wash your face with cold water," he said with a neutral, back to business tone - or as closely to it as he could muster, ignoring what he had just thought about and the resulting questions spinning in circles through his head.
"I will try it," Erik said. He had become more eager to at least try everything once, discovering the world of the land-walkers, as he called them, as curiously as Charles would his. And he hoped the reply was a sign that Erik was completely oblivious to the intimacy of the situation just a moment ago, and more so to the sudden embarrassment in Charles, though when he lifted his head again after having emptied and rinsed the sink and met Erik's gaze, Charles could have sworn to see a very subtle quizzical look in Erik's eyes.
"Okay, here, take this one," he said then, briefly pondering two different products he had in his cabinet. "It's not as strong as the other one. It's a lotion," he explained and suddenly remembered the earlier incident around the table. "So, you can't read then?"
"I can," Erik replied. "Though it's been a while. I would have to practice again."
Charles felt like smacking his face at having implied Erik to be uneducated, but the other man seemed to take no offense in the question. He did give Charles a questioning glance then, though, as he held the bottle of aftershave lotion in his hand.
"Screw it open and then pour a small amount onto your hand and gently rub it onto your skin. Yeah, that's enough. Good, yes, like that."
Erik let out a low sound, a snort of amusement as it seemed, and he softly shook his head. “It's some effort, being a land-walker. How often do you have to do this?”
Charles felt a laugh escape his lips quite easily as he put his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leaned backward against the sink cupboard. “Every day.”
“Every day?”
“Yes, every day,” Charles replied, shrugging apologetically. “Of course only if you want it perfectly smooth. Otherwise you can just let it grow until it annoys you again. There's no convention for that.” And the scruff had indeed suited him quite well, accentuating his prominent jawline, the somewhat ginger shade of it in nice contrast to his sea-green eyes.
Quite suddenly, Charles felt his cheeks heat up again, his heart beating a little faster in his chest with something quite close to shock. Shock at the awareness of what was happening in him, and he wanted to slap himself or step into the shower under an ice-cold spray to drown out these thoughts. It wasn't the first time he felt attracted to another man - in college he had, as so many, messed around a little. Experimented, lived out a bi-curious phase. Because it had been chic to freely explore human sexuality without regards of social conventions. But it had been just that: a phase, triggered by inebriated discussions about Freud's theories and the history of homosexuality and its status in society.
In over seven years he had not had the desire to revive that side in him, had been quite happy with the female gender as his only target - though his efforts had not resulted in much lately. The latter could be due to the fact that, yes, as his sister had said on various occasions, his expectations had gotten too high over time. He wasn't content anymore with random hookups with pretty girls that could not share his passion for the oceans, his political and philosophical views. He used to be so flirty, so open and carefree, but maybe, at some point in (almost) every man's life, messing around just wasn't enough anymore.
He should not be thinking about Erik in either scenario, however. At all. And he had to mentally tell himself that, no, this wasn't some silly Disney movie or 80s rom-com but a really serious situation in which his own longing and desire was absolutely irrelevant. And impossible to fulfill, he added as an afterthought as he put the shaving utensils back into the cabinet and wiped the surface around the sink with an already used towel.
He only noticed then that Erik was watching him, his gaze rather piercing as if he was trying to figure something out, and with an even greater shock Charles remembered that Erik could, on a rudimentary level, sense a person's mood such as fear or elation because he could pick up the electromagnetic waves. Maybe even hear their heart-beat with his inhumanely sharp senses. Charles turned his head a little as he put the towel away, pressing his eyes shut for a moment and willing himself to just forget about it all. Not let such thoughts rise and manifest in the first place... before it was too late.
“Alright. Done,” he said and forced himself to smile casually at Erik as he turned back around, ignoring the slightly quizzical look on the other man's features. He nodded towards the open door, prompting Erik to go first and then followed, stepping back into the bedroom.
It was still the same room that he had as a child, though, naturally, it had changed over the years. Raven had the master bedroom which he had gladly given to her, not needing the bigger space or bigger bathroom. Charles realized then that it was the first time Erik was in here, and he could see the other man looking around the room, finding the shelves on one side of it, lined with books from floor to ceiling and the small table by them with a chess set on it. “This looks familiar,” he said and pointed at it.
“It does?” Charles asked, surprised as he saw Erik nod.
“My grandmother had one as well. You can play two different games on it, right?”
“Yes, checkers and chess,” Charles replied, stepping closer to the small table. The set was an antique, hand-carved pieces on a solid, non-foldable wooden board in dark chestnut brown and ivory, not like the modern versions in plastic black and white. “Do you play?”
Erik tilted his head to and fro, his lips pursed in a pondering but skeptic expression. “I'm not sure I still remember it enough. She tried to teach me both, but we mostly played the other one. With the flat, round pieces.”
“Ah, checkers then,” Charles said. He was already inclined to just continue toward the door, bring some distance between them to snap out of that odd and completely inappropriate attraction he had felt, but the thing was... he didn't really want to. At least not when he saw Erik's long fingers carefully run across the black King, his eyes fixed on the pieces, brow knitted in thought.
It didn't need to mean anything; he was adult enough to treat their friendship responsibly. And so, feeling a sudden grin on his lips, Charles stepped closer. “So... if you'd like me to refresh your memory we could give chess a go.”
To his great pleasure, Erik turned around with a smile on his lips. “I would like that.”
~ TBC ~
Chapter 7