ficlet february 6: something's broken
This was originally much more innuendo-laden and filled with a whole aside about Charles' virginity, but the details of those bits disappeared from my brain between coming up with the idea in the car this afternoon and sitting down to write. Oh well!
This takes place not long after this story.
***
Ficlet February 6: "something's broken"
Erik doesn't need to glance at the grandfather clock against the wall to check the time, but he does so anyway out of habit. It's a fine piece of craftmanship, a beautifully carved heirloom with well-oiled, efficiently moving mechanisms within. It almost doesn't match the room, too classic for the more modern style of furniture and decoration, but Erik thinks it probably pre-dates the current man of the house. He wonders if the clock will journey with Charles to Erik's estate once their marriage is finalized.
And that brings him back to Charles, who sent word that he would be joining Erik in the parlor more than half an hour ago.
Erik gets to his feet and paces the length of the room. He knows exactly where Charles is, of course. He can feel Charles' cigarette case in the interior pocket of his jacket, sitting abandoned two flights up, not far from the watch that's body-warm and tucked into Charles' waistcoat. Charles is in his workshop.
Erik doesn't mind, exactly, that Charles is so caught up in work that he's forgotten their appointment. He's distantly amused, thinking of his own preference for machines over people, the large quiet halls of his estate, silent save for the occasional echoing footstep of a maid or his valet. He is, however, impatient for this charade of respectability to be over and done with. It wouldn't do for Erik to marry Charles without properly courting him first, no matter what their arrangement, and so Charles has insisted on a full and respectable courtship.
Erik has no issue with this on the surface, but he would like to get it all over with sometime this century, which means that every time Charles delays their outings to play in his workshop, their timeline is pushed further backwards.
He looks around the room again--the butler has slipped out, and while Erik is sure he's waiting just out of sight to attend to any of Erik's needs, Erik takes the opportunity to quietly leave the parlor instead.
He's familiar enough with the hallways of the Xavier Manor to know where he's going, but he would, of course, be able to find his way no matter what. Charles' workshop very nearly glows with all of the metal gadgets littering the surfaces. None of the staff tries to stop him; he thinks they're afraid of him and he must admit he cultivates that fear. He finds it is easier to make his way through the London social scene by cowing others into submission than it is to throw himself into the minutiae of it. That's probably why he has to marry a stranger to ensure the political capital he needs to change his line of work.
Not that he's found Charles to be a chore thus far.
Halfway to Charles' workshop, someone does step into his path, but it's not someone from the staff. It's Raven who peers out of a room at him, her skin rippling from pink to blue when she sees it's him.
"It's not proper for you to be wandering around here," she says. "Not when you and Charles aren't even engaged yet."
"Are you telling me I should return to the parlor?" he asks.
"No," Raven says, "I don't care what you do. Mother and Dr. Marko will be out until evening, and the staff won't breathe a word against Charles."
"Then I will see you later, Miss Darkholme," Erik says, and bows slightly to Raven before continuing down the hall.
He hears Charles cursing as soon as he opens the door, and ascends the stairs to find Charles leaning over his workbench. His clothing is askew and his forehead is creased in a frown. Erik clears his throat, though he imagines Charles has to know he's here.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know I'm running a bit late," Charles says. He half turns and smiles at Erik, and Erik can tell he's still distracted.
Their courtship can be dragged out one additional day, surely. Erik shakes his head and approaches the table instead of chastising Charles for the wait.
"What's the problem?" he asks.
"I don't know," Charles says. He swipes his hair out of his face and puts his hands on his hips. "Something's broken."
"Allow me to take a look," Erik says, and approaches the table.
The mechanical on the table is half disassembled and Erik can immediately source the problem. There's a faulty spring tucked inside the casing, a problem so minor that it would have taken Charles hours to discover it.
He pulls the spring out and gently uses his ability to reshape it, before snapping it back into place. The rest of the pieces hover off of the table and then click into the casing one after another until the mechanical is back in one piece.
He steps back and gestures at the device and Charles picks it up, examining it closely.
"I did want to do that myself, you know," he says, putting it back down and glancing at Erik. He's standing very close and, propriety be damned, Erik lays a hand at the small of Charles' back.
"As we're running astonishingly late, I thought it best to speed the process along," Erik says.
"Did you?" Charles asks. He looks up at Erik, blinking his unreal eyes, and Erik has to remind himself that Charles wants to do this the right way.
Polite society is more trouble than it's worth.
"Your sister says your mother and Dr. Marko are out for the evening," Erik says. He nudges Charles closer. "There's really no need for us to go out."
"As much as I would enjoy getting to know you more...intimately, Mr. Lehnsherr," Charles says, taking a step back. "There's more to it than that."
His voice is low and his smile is wicked. They need to hurry and marry so Erik can get Charles into his bed before he goes mad.
"Is that so?" Erik asks.
"When we go out and walk around the square and lunch together in town, people see and the talk," Charles says. "They talk to my parents and their friends, they talk to the people we'll want to make business connections with. Because that's what this is about, is it not? Business?"
"Mostly," Erik murmurs, and Charles smiles wickedly again.
"Mostly," he agrees, and when Erik leans over to steal a single kiss, he allows it. He steps back, still smiling, once Erik pulls away. "I will change and we'll go out and have dinner."
"Lovely," Erik says.
"And when we get home, if my mother and stepfather are still out, perhaps you can help me with the rest of the broken things and be allowed another kiss," Charles says.
"Acceptable," Erik says. He gestures towards the stairs. "Hurry now."
There are at least a dozen separate mechanicals on the table and Erik plans on bargaining for a kiss each.
It's still going to be a long courtship--in the meantime, Erik will take what he can get, propriety be damned.
*
ficlet february!
Get some sleep
Five minutes away
Faint recognition
Half an hour before sunrise
Useless, but beautiful
Something’s broken
Surprise celebration
There were signs and signals
Rituals
Write about a postcard
What are you looking for?
You remind me of someone
A meeting, a beginning
Lasting impression
Long drive
Behind closed doors
Ask questions later
Six impossible things
Day off
Lost in a city
A door key
A late night phone call
Someone else’s mortification
Something from music
Something from a picture
This takes place not long after this story.
***
Ficlet February 6: "something's broken"
Erik doesn't need to glance at the grandfather clock against the wall to check the time, but he does so anyway out of habit. It's a fine piece of craftmanship, a beautifully carved heirloom with well-oiled, efficiently moving mechanisms within. It almost doesn't match the room, too classic for the more modern style of furniture and decoration, but Erik thinks it probably pre-dates the current man of the house. He wonders if the clock will journey with Charles to Erik's estate once their marriage is finalized.
And that brings him back to Charles, who sent word that he would be joining Erik in the parlor more than half an hour ago.
Erik gets to his feet and paces the length of the room. He knows exactly where Charles is, of course. He can feel Charles' cigarette case in the interior pocket of his jacket, sitting abandoned two flights up, not far from the watch that's body-warm and tucked into Charles' waistcoat. Charles is in his workshop.
Erik doesn't mind, exactly, that Charles is so caught up in work that he's forgotten their appointment. He's distantly amused, thinking of his own preference for machines over people, the large quiet halls of his estate, silent save for the occasional echoing footstep of a maid or his valet. He is, however, impatient for this charade of respectability to be over and done with. It wouldn't do for Erik to marry Charles without properly courting him first, no matter what their arrangement, and so Charles has insisted on a full and respectable courtship.
Erik has no issue with this on the surface, but he would like to get it all over with sometime this century, which means that every time Charles delays their outings to play in his workshop, their timeline is pushed further backwards.
He looks around the room again--the butler has slipped out, and while Erik is sure he's waiting just out of sight to attend to any of Erik's needs, Erik takes the opportunity to quietly leave the parlor instead.
He's familiar enough with the hallways of the Xavier Manor to know where he's going, but he would, of course, be able to find his way no matter what. Charles' workshop very nearly glows with all of the metal gadgets littering the surfaces. None of the staff tries to stop him; he thinks they're afraid of him and he must admit he cultivates that fear. He finds it is easier to make his way through the London social scene by cowing others into submission than it is to throw himself into the minutiae of it. That's probably why he has to marry a stranger to ensure the political capital he needs to change his line of work.
Not that he's found Charles to be a chore thus far.
Halfway to Charles' workshop, someone does step into his path, but it's not someone from the staff. It's Raven who peers out of a room at him, her skin rippling from pink to blue when she sees it's him.
"It's not proper for you to be wandering around here," she says. "Not when you and Charles aren't even engaged yet."
"Are you telling me I should return to the parlor?" he asks.
"No," Raven says, "I don't care what you do. Mother and Dr. Marko will be out until evening, and the staff won't breathe a word against Charles."
"Then I will see you later, Miss Darkholme," Erik says, and bows slightly to Raven before continuing down the hall.
He hears Charles cursing as soon as he opens the door, and ascends the stairs to find Charles leaning over his workbench. His clothing is askew and his forehead is creased in a frown. Erik clears his throat, though he imagines Charles has to know he's here.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know I'm running a bit late," Charles says. He half turns and smiles at Erik, and Erik can tell he's still distracted.
Their courtship can be dragged out one additional day, surely. Erik shakes his head and approaches the table instead of chastising Charles for the wait.
"What's the problem?" he asks.
"I don't know," Charles says. He swipes his hair out of his face and puts his hands on his hips. "Something's broken."
"Allow me to take a look," Erik says, and approaches the table.
The mechanical on the table is half disassembled and Erik can immediately source the problem. There's a faulty spring tucked inside the casing, a problem so minor that it would have taken Charles hours to discover it.
He pulls the spring out and gently uses his ability to reshape it, before snapping it back into place. The rest of the pieces hover off of the table and then click into the casing one after another until the mechanical is back in one piece.
He steps back and gestures at the device and Charles picks it up, examining it closely.
"I did want to do that myself, you know," he says, putting it back down and glancing at Erik. He's standing very close and, propriety be damned, Erik lays a hand at the small of Charles' back.
"As we're running astonishingly late, I thought it best to speed the process along," Erik says.
"Did you?" Charles asks. He looks up at Erik, blinking his unreal eyes, and Erik has to remind himself that Charles wants to do this the right way.
Polite society is more trouble than it's worth.
"Your sister says your mother and Dr. Marko are out for the evening," Erik says. He nudges Charles closer. "There's really no need for us to go out."
"As much as I would enjoy getting to know you more...intimately, Mr. Lehnsherr," Charles says, taking a step back. "There's more to it than that."
His voice is low and his smile is wicked. They need to hurry and marry so Erik can get Charles into his bed before he goes mad.
"Is that so?" Erik asks.
"When we go out and walk around the square and lunch together in town, people see and the talk," Charles says. "They talk to my parents and their friends, they talk to the people we'll want to make business connections with. Because that's what this is about, is it not? Business?"
"Mostly," Erik murmurs, and Charles smiles wickedly again.
"Mostly," he agrees, and when Erik leans over to steal a single kiss, he allows it. He steps back, still smiling, once Erik pulls away. "I will change and we'll go out and have dinner."
"Lovely," Erik says.
"And when we get home, if my mother and stepfather are still out, perhaps you can help me with the rest of the broken things and be allowed another kiss," Charles says.
"Acceptable," Erik says. He gestures towards the stairs. "Hurry now."
There are at least a dozen separate mechanicals on the table and Erik plans on bargaining for a kiss each.
It's still going to be a long courtship--in the meantime, Erik will take what he can get, propriety be damned.
*
ficlet february!
Get some sleep
Five minutes away
Faint recognition
Half an hour before sunrise
Useless, but beautiful
Something’s broken
Surprise celebration
There were signs and signals
Rituals
Write about a postcard
What are you looking for?
You remind me of someone
A meeting, a beginning
Lasting impression
Long drive
Behind closed doors
Ask questions later
Six impossible things
Day off
Lost in a city
A door key
A late night phone call
Someone else’s mortification
Something from music
Something from a picture