ficlet february 12: "you remind me of someone"
Uh, this one isn't so good and needs to be edited, but it's DONE (ish) so I'm just gonna post it and whatever.
***
Ficlet February: "you remind me of someone"
Charles ruins the lazy Saturday at home with his sweet tooth.
"I want a milkshake," he decides, lifting his head from the pillow for the first time since the start of their post-coital nap.
"I don't have any ice cream," Erik says. "Or...milk. Or..."
He laughs. He doesn't know how long it's been since his mouth made that shape, that noise, before this weekend.
"I don't actually know how to make a milkshake," he admits. Charles smiles with half of his mouth. It's...far too endearing.
"That's basically it," Charles says. He shifts around and Erik gives up on the idea of falling back to sleep.
"We could go out?" Erik suggests. He thinks the burger place on the corner does milkshakes. Charles looks slightly apprehensive for a moment, and Erik quickly reviews the burger joint and says, "It's accessible. I think. I'm pretty sure. I could call?"
Charles beams at him, and Erik ignores the tiny voice telling him he's pathetic for being this easy for someone.
"I was actually--it doesn't matter, that sounds wonderful. Let's get dressed." Charles pulls himself up on the headboard and Erik congratulates himself on successfully navigating the first of what might? hopefully? be many little bumps he'll have to get used to when he's with Charles.
Erik and Charles met two days prior at the library. It was Erik's first week back in the states and he was trying, half-heartedly, to...he's not even sure what he was looking for. It wasn't Charles, sitting in the front row and quick to ask half a dozen questions of the speaker, the author of a new book on mutant educational politics. He only meant to say to Charles that he disagreed with his point about integration, but somehow the conversation stretched all the way to closing, moved to a coffeeshop, and ended at Erik's new and embarrassingly bare apartment building.
Erik's never moved this fast before, not with someone he thought he might actually like, someone he expected to stick around past a single night. He wonders if Charles is just as unfamiliar with this--he seemed hesitant, at first, but after Erik opened up a little about living in Germany, about his move, about the newness of a city he grew up in but hasn't seen in more than a decade, it was like he turned into an entirely different person. He wasn't exactly unfriendly before Erik started talking, but he was more open himself after. His smiles changed. His posture changed. He accepted Erik's invitation back to his apartment.
Erik's very pleased about that last part.
They manage to get themselves cleaned off and dressed and ready to go without getting too off-track, and soon they're walking--well, rolling--down the sidewalk towards the burger place. Erik is slightly disgusted with himself--with his smile, with his eagerness to please this person he barely knows, with how good he feels about life after two days straight talking and arguing and laughing and fucking.
Erik is supposed to be mean--an asshole, a jerk, it's his reputation and it was one that stung at first, but it's a persona he's decided to cultivate. He's not supposed to smile this much, but he can't stop.
"What's on your mind?" Charles asks as they approach the restaurant.
"Do you have to ask?" Erik asks, raising an eyebrow, and Charles grins at him.
"I don't like to assume permission," Charles admits.
"It's nothing," Erik says. "Just..." He pauses to consider. It would almost be easier if Charles did read him, he thinks. "I'm not normally like this."
"Charming and handsome and obstinate?" Charles asks.
"Yeah," Erik says. "Well, charming at least. I'm usually obstinate."
"And handsome, I imagine," Charles says.
"I just...like you," Erik admits. He fights a flush. It feels like a weakness.
"Good," Charles says. "I like you too."
The conversation is derailed by entering the restaurant, where Charles stares at the menu for far longer than it should take to review the twelve milkshake flavors they offer. They order and get a table and Charles starts to tell a stupid childhood story about his sister and an ice cream truck. He's thinking about how permissible it would be to hold Charles' hand across the table when he feels a phone and a wallet and the usual bits of metal that surround people get closer than is usually polite. When he glances up, there are two kids who look like college students standing near the table.
"Excuse me," the boy says. "It's just--uh--"
"You're Charles Xavier, right?" the girl says.
Charles smiles. It's a different smile than the one he's been giving Erik all weekend. It's...blander. Cheerful, but generic.
It is, Erik realizes, more like the smiles that Charles was giving Erik before they started to talk more intimately at the coffeeshop Friday night.
"I am," Charles says.
"We love you on The Daily Show," the boy says. "You're like...so funny."
"And so smart!" the girl adds. "And, like, it's great to see a mutant correspondent on so often, you know?"
"I'm happy to be there," Charles tells them, and a lot of things about Charles start to make sense all that once.
Erik also starts to feel very stupid all at once.
The kids chat with Charles for a moment or two and have him sign day planners and notepads before the waitress appears with their milkshakes and Charles smiles apologetically at them, with the same bland, generic smile.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to drive you away, but Erik and I should probably see to our ice cream before it melts," Charles says.
"Oh, god, we're sorry," the girl says. She looks at Erik as if seeing him for the first time.
"No, not at all," Charles says. "Have a lovely day, and thanks for saying hello."
Then they're gone.
"I'm...sorry about that," Charles says. He looks genuinely apologetic and the vague friendliness is gone. He's back to the Charles from the weekend.
"Nothing to...apologize about," Erik says. "Um..."
"So, it's possible that in addition to being a professor and an activist, I'm also a fairly regular guest on a popular national television program," Charles says. He runs a hand through his hair. He looks almost embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I should have mentioned something sooner but it was...refreshing that you didn't seem to notice."
"No," Erik says. "It's...fine."
"Really?" Charles asks.
Erik thinks about it for a moment.
"Really," he says firmly.
Charles smiles again.
"Your milkshake is melting," Erik says, and Charles slides it across the table and takes a sip. Then, after a moment, "I'll be sure to pick up some milk and ice cream at the store this week?"
"You read my mind," Charles says, and Erik is pretty sure he's in love.
***
Ficlet February: "you remind me of someone"
Charles ruins the lazy Saturday at home with his sweet tooth.
"I want a milkshake," he decides, lifting his head from the pillow for the first time since the start of their post-coital nap.
"I don't have any ice cream," Erik says. "Or...milk. Or..."
He laughs. He doesn't know how long it's been since his mouth made that shape, that noise, before this weekend.
"I don't actually know how to make a milkshake," he admits. Charles smiles with half of his mouth. It's...far too endearing.
"That's basically it," Charles says. He shifts around and Erik gives up on the idea of falling back to sleep.
"We could go out?" Erik suggests. He thinks the burger place on the corner does milkshakes. Charles looks slightly apprehensive for a moment, and Erik quickly reviews the burger joint and says, "It's accessible. I think. I'm pretty sure. I could call?"
Charles beams at him, and Erik ignores the tiny voice telling him he's pathetic for being this easy for someone.
"I was actually--it doesn't matter, that sounds wonderful. Let's get dressed." Charles pulls himself up on the headboard and Erik congratulates himself on successfully navigating the first of what might? hopefully? be many little bumps he'll have to get used to when he's with Charles.
Erik and Charles met two days prior at the library. It was Erik's first week back in the states and he was trying, half-heartedly, to...he's not even sure what he was looking for. It wasn't Charles, sitting in the front row and quick to ask half a dozen questions of the speaker, the author of a new book on mutant educational politics. He only meant to say to Charles that he disagreed with his point about integration, but somehow the conversation stretched all the way to closing, moved to a coffeeshop, and ended at Erik's new and embarrassingly bare apartment building.
Erik's never moved this fast before, not with someone he thought he might actually like, someone he expected to stick around past a single night. He wonders if Charles is just as unfamiliar with this--he seemed hesitant, at first, but after Erik opened up a little about living in Germany, about his move, about the newness of a city he grew up in but hasn't seen in more than a decade, it was like he turned into an entirely different person. He wasn't exactly unfriendly before Erik started talking, but he was more open himself after. His smiles changed. His posture changed. He accepted Erik's invitation back to his apartment.
Erik's very pleased about that last part.
They manage to get themselves cleaned off and dressed and ready to go without getting too off-track, and soon they're walking--well, rolling--down the sidewalk towards the burger place. Erik is slightly disgusted with himself--with his smile, with his eagerness to please this person he barely knows, with how good he feels about life after two days straight talking and arguing and laughing and fucking.
Erik is supposed to be mean--an asshole, a jerk, it's his reputation and it was one that stung at first, but it's a persona he's decided to cultivate. He's not supposed to smile this much, but he can't stop.
"What's on your mind?" Charles asks as they approach the restaurant.
"Do you have to ask?" Erik asks, raising an eyebrow, and Charles grins at him.
"I don't like to assume permission," Charles admits.
"It's nothing," Erik says. "Just..." He pauses to consider. It would almost be easier if Charles did read him, he thinks. "I'm not normally like this."
"Charming and handsome and obstinate?" Charles asks.
"Yeah," Erik says. "Well, charming at least. I'm usually obstinate."
"And handsome, I imagine," Charles says.
"I just...like you," Erik admits. He fights a flush. It feels like a weakness.
"Good," Charles says. "I like you too."
The conversation is derailed by entering the restaurant, where Charles stares at the menu for far longer than it should take to review the twelve milkshake flavors they offer. They order and get a table and Charles starts to tell a stupid childhood story about his sister and an ice cream truck. He's thinking about how permissible it would be to hold Charles' hand across the table when he feels a phone and a wallet and the usual bits of metal that surround people get closer than is usually polite. When he glances up, there are two kids who look like college students standing near the table.
"Excuse me," the boy says. "It's just--uh--"
"You're Charles Xavier, right?" the girl says.
Charles smiles. It's a different smile than the one he's been giving Erik all weekend. It's...blander. Cheerful, but generic.
It is, Erik realizes, more like the smiles that Charles was giving Erik before they started to talk more intimately at the coffeeshop Friday night.
"I am," Charles says.
"We love you on The Daily Show," the boy says. "You're like...so funny."
"And so smart!" the girl adds. "And, like, it's great to see a mutant correspondent on so often, you know?"
"I'm happy to be there," Charles tells them, and a lot of things about Charles start to make sense all that once.
Erik also starts to feel very stupid all at once.
The kids chat with Charles for a moment or two and have him sign day planners and notepads before the waitress appears with their milkshakes and Charles smiles apologetically at them, with the same bland, generic smile.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to drive you away, but Erik and I should probably see to our ice cream before it melts," Charles says.
"Oh, god, we're sorry," the girl says. She looks at Erik as if seeing him for the first time.
"No, not at all," Charles says. "Have a lovely day, and thanks for saying hello."
Then they're gone.
"I'm...sorry about that," Charles says. He looks genuinely apologetic and the vague friendliness is gone. He's back to the Charles from the weekend.
"Nothing to...apologize about," Erik says. "Um..."
"So, it's possible that in addition to being a professor and an activist, I'm also a fairly regular guest on a popular national television program," Charles says. He runs a hand through his hair. He looks almost embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I should have mentioned something sooner but it was...refreshing that you didn't seem to notice."
"No," Erik says. "It's...fine."
"Really?" Charles asks.
Erik thinks about it for a moment.
"Really," he says firmly.
Charles smiles again.
"Your milkshake is melting," Erik says, and Charles slides it across the table and takes a sip. Then, after a moment, "I'll be sure to pick up some milk and ice cream at the store this week?"
"You read my mind," Charles says, and Erik is pretty sure he's in love.