ficlet february 9: rituals
Iiiiiiiiiii have no idea what this is. WHATEVER.
***
Ficlet February 9: "rituals"
Charles tries to be quiet as he can on his way through the house, but halfway across the living room he trips over a LeapFrog accessory and a tinny robotic voice begins counting to the quiet house.
"Shit," he hisses, and fumbles to turn it off. He's not surprised, then, when he enters the bedroom to find Erik blinking sleepily up at him from his side of the bed.
"You're home," Erik mutters. He rolls onto his back and Charles picks across the room, shedding his clothes to get ready for bed. He had wanted a shower, but it seems like a terribly tedious thing to get through before he can climb into bed with his husband. He can shower in the morning.
"I am," he says. "Go to sleep, darling, it's the middle of the night."
Erik ignores him and props himself up on his elbow.
"How did it go?" Erik asks.
"Good," Charles says. He sits on the edge of the bed and peels off his socks.
"What were you?" Erik mumbles. His eyes are drooping again already, his hair in disarray. He's much less scary this way. Not that Charles ever really finds Erik that scary, but his students certainly seem to think he's some sort of horrific monster.
"Myself, mostly," Charles says. He plugs in his phone and empties his pockets. "Rich, spoiled, drunk, life of the party."
"Mm, sounds right," Erik says. "Did you you kick a lot of ass? Steal precious state secrets?"
"Just reconnaissance," Charles says. "A little telepathy, a little good old-fashioned eavesdropping." He tosses his pants in the direction of the hamper.
"Did you seduce anyone?" Erik asks.
Charles pulls back the blankets and slides into the bed next to Erik. The sheets are already warm and Erik finds him under them immediately. Erik is warm too.
"Just recon, like I said," Charles assures him. "No seduction required. I've told you, I try to avoid that these days."
"'Try' doesn't mean you've stopped all together," Erik says, but his tone is light. They finished having that fight a long time ago. He's sleepy, too, and Charles strokes his hair.
"I know," Charles says. "We can have this conversation in the morning. It's two am. Go to sleep, my love."
"Can't." Erik yawns so hard his jaw cracks. "Can't sleep until I check in. I can never sleep until I know you're home safe."
Something soft and light fills Charles' chest. He closes his eyes and strokes Erik's hair again. He understands, of course--he has plenty of his own rituals, pre- and post-mission. He can't turn off his cellphone before he talks to Erik and texts him goodbye. He won't take any missions with kids since Anya was born because he's afraid he's lost the ability to be objective. He checks in every night when he's away and he doesn't go to bed until he's hung up.
This, too, is as much for him as Erik, he knows.
"How was class?" he asks Erik.
"Fine," Erik mutters. He presses his face into Charles's shoulder and yawns again. "They're all idiots. Made a boy cry."
"Of course you did," Charles says. "How's the peanut?"
"Missed you at bedtime for stories. She says I don't do the voices right. I'm sorry I'm not trained in voice mimicry."
"It's not difficult," Charles says. "How are you?"
"Better now," Erik says. He opens his eyes. In a moment like this, when Erik is this quiet and honest and vulnerable, without the trappings of their busy lives, without the veneer of banter and sarcasm that covers their conversations, Charles is reminded of how incredibly lucky he is to have this--the man he loves, a family, a home, and all in the face of a career that's less than stable. He stumbled sideways into espionage at the end of a downward spiral. He expected he'd be dead by the end of the year. He never expected it would bring him all of this instead.
"Me too," Charles says.
Erik inches up and kisses him.
"Go to sleep," he says.
And Charles does.
*
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
***
Ficlet February 9: "rituals"
Charles tries to be quiet as he can on his way through the house, but halfway across the living room he trips over a LeapFrog accessory and a tinny robotic voice begins counting to the quiet house.
"Shit," he hisses, and fumbles to turn it off. He's not surprised, then, when he enters the bedroom to find Erik blinking sleepily up at him from his side of the bed.
"You're home," Erik mutters. He rolls onto his back and Charles picks across the room, shedding his clothes to get ready for bed. He had wanted a shower, but it seems like a terribly tedious thing to get through before he can climb into bed with his husband. He can shower in the morning.
"I am," he says. "Go to sleep, darling, it's the middle of the night."
Erik ignores him and props himself up on his elbow.
"How did it go?" Erik asks.
"Good," Charles says. He sits on the edge of the bed and peels off his socks.
"What were you?" Erik mumbles. His eyes are drooping again already, his hair in disarray. He's much less scary this way. Not that Charles ever really finds Erik that scary, but his students certainly seem to think he's some sort of horrific monster.
"Myself, mostly," Charles says. He plugs in his phone and empties his pockets. "Rich, spoiled, drunk, life of the party."
"Mm, sounds right," Erik says. "Did you you kick a lot of ass? Steal precious state secrets?"
"Just reconnaissance," Charles says. "A little telepathy, a little good old-fashioned eavesdropping." He tosses his pants in the direction of the hamper.
"Did you seduce anyone?" Erik asks.
Charles pulls back the blankets and slides into the bed next to Erik. The sheets are already warm and Erik finds him under them immediately. Erik is warm too.
"Just recon, like I said," Charles assures him. "No seduction required. I've told you, I try to avoid that these days."
"'Try' doesn't mean you've stopped all together," Erik says, but his tone is light. They finished having that fight a long time ago. He's sleepy, too, and Charles strokes his hair.
"I know," Charles says. "We can have this conversation in the morning. It's two am. Go to sleep, my love."
"Can't." Erik yawns so hard his jaw cracks. "Can't sleep until I check in. I can never sleep until I know you're home safe."
Something soft and light fills Charles' chest. He closes his eyes and strokes Erik's hair again. He understands, of course--he has plenty of his own rituals, pre- and post-mission. He can't turn off his cellphone before he talks to Erik and texts him goodbye. He won't take any missions with kids since Anya was born because he's afraid he's lost the ability to be objective. He checks in every night when he's away and he doesn't go to bed until he's hung up.
This, too, is as much for him as Erik, he knows.
"How was class?" he asks Erik.
"Fine," Erik mutters. He presses his face into Charles's shoulder and yawns again. "They're all idiots. Made a boy cry."
"Of course you did," Charles says. "How's the peanut?"
"Missed you at bedtime for stories. She says I don't do the voices right. I'm sorry I'm not trained in voice mimicry."
"It's not difficult," Charles says. "How are you?"
"Better now," Erik says. He opens his eyes. In a moment like this, when Erik is this quiet and honest and vulnerable, without the trappings of their busy lives, without the veneer of banter and sarcasm that covers their conversations, Charles is reminded of how incredibly lucky he is to have this--the man he loves, a family, a home, and all in the face of a career that's less than stable. He stumbled sideways into espionage at the end of a downward spiral. He expected he'd be dead by the end of the year. He never expected it would bring him all of this instead.
"Me too," Charles says.
Erik inches up and kisses him.
"Go to sleep," he says.
And Charles does.
*
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