[ As Erik moves Charles leans back, resting into his chair again to allow him some space. He's as handsome as Charles could ever remember; and Charles is a bit abashed at himself for even thinking it. Still, at any moment he was able he liked to memorize the lines of his face, recall the differences-- if there were any. He wishes he had expected a visit, he would have adorned something other than an well worn blue sweater that, while very soft, was a tad old looking. Of course this is forgotten, for the most part, when Erik lowers against him and he can feel his heart skip a beat.
Arms ease upward and gingerly make their way around him, as if afraid anything too much will make him leave. He's never sure of himself with Erik like he used to be; but he also used to believe that he would never leave and he had been so blindly wrong about that. A gentle squeeze as he turns his head just enough so that he could speak quietly to Erik, ] I've missed you. [ No pretense to be had, he was never sure how long he could keep him-- and he would
( ... )
[ There's a small flicker of hurt at his words; to think Erik wouldn't call it his home anymore shouldn't surprise him or bother him but for some reason it does. Perhaps it's just because it's another line severed between them, and Charles had to wonder just how many threads were still holding them together. Pulled into Erik he offers no resistance, head tipping to the side just a bit as he huddles close. ]
Then we'll enjoy the weekend. [ It's all he can hope for, a little bit at a time; something to dull that swollen ache that threatened whenever Erik had to leave-- whenever he was gone too long-- Hell, whenever Charles let his thoughts wander too far. ]
There's always a choice, Erik. [ He murmurs, but its quiet, almost painful-- as if he can't resist saying the words and yet he doesn't want to. Not now. Not really. He's terrified of starting an argument but that stubborn belief eats away at him and he can't help himself. It's almost miserable, the way he can feel his words pulling at his insides, reminding him that each one could
( ... )
[ He keeps running his one hand up and down the other's back, other hand edging up to trace Charles' jaw line-- from the hollow below his ear, to his chin-- fingers grazing his throat. Erik gentles the kiss, their noses brushing briefly while he moves reluctantly back those few inches so that he can look into the telepath's face. A singular comment from Charles-- while being abrasive, is not enough to make him angry; he's too relieved to simply be at the house again, and he strokes back the other man's hair, smoothing it down with his fingers. The tension that Charles emanates-- and the tinge of misery in his stiffened shoulders offsets the comment, and Erik presses a kiss to his temple. ] I did what I believed was right-- but that's a discussion for some other time. It's alright, Charles; I'm not going anywhere.
[ Erik gravitates to him, arms securely around his ribs; for those months at the mansion, Charles had been an unending source of support for him-- at the very least, he could provide something of that understanding, and put
( ... )
Alright. [ It's quiet and perhaps a little broken like Charles, he can't understand why all these emotions-- things he could so easily surpress in other people-- fin their way to the surface so fiercely when he's around Erik. As if his magnetism could draw out things other than that in him; as if the man himself was one giant draw to him and he'd willingly let himself get sucked in every time. A few blinks, mostly to clear his vision and give him time to breathe as he sinks further into his pull, deeper into the whirlwind. ]
No, much better now. [ His thumb traces over Erik's knuckles, comforted by the familiarity of their position despite the stark differences in situation. He tilts his head to the side a little more, brushing his cheek gently against Erik's own. ] Thank you.
Good. [ He relaxes into Charles, arms tightening around his waist just a little, and he sits quietly with him for a while, fingers moving against the sweater-- and he drops his head to rest on the telepath’s shoulder-- in a way, it is a relief to come back; to actually be able to come back-- he knows that with each passing year he’s distancing himself from Charles idealistically, but never losing that raw link. A part of him believes that there will be a day when he stands outside the window and is not welcomed back-- but until then he intends to steal as much time as he can.
He stirs, turning his head to the side to speak into the other man’s jaw-continually crowding closer to him, and it might not be enough to broach that emotional distance that has grown between them, but it’s more than nothing-and he’s willing to take what he can get after so much time spent in opposition. ] Charles-- [ He’s vaguely unsure of what they have to speak about now, because he’s been wrapped up in the brotherhood’s activities. He settles for something
( ... )
Well enough. [ He murmurs, pausing to gather his wits about him. ] Alex seems to have brightened considerably recently, though that could be in part to the fact we've currently enrolled his brother-- Though Hank's been working on something for that boy, his mutation is not to dissimilar to Alex's though much harder to control. [ His free hand raises, index finger tapping against his lower lip absently, ] Hank has-- for the lack of a better word-- come to terms with being blue, he seems much better now; though very much contented to stay in his lab all the time if I'd let him. And Sean... [ A small, muffled laugh, his body leaning to the side a bit more. Fingertips sweeping upward to trace over his neck, ] He is the same as always, in the good way, though.
[ He pauses in his walk down memory lane of his first class of students and the newer ones that had come to call Xavier's home at the recollection of his-- of Raven. ] I see, it's probably for the best, coming back here the last time was very unpleasant for her. [ Charles had still
( ... )
It's good to hear you're making progress with them-- they always were promising mutants. [ He's awkward for a moment, swallowing audibly, then raising his hand to cover the telepath's-- his thumb stroking a path over the knuckles. There is a hint of regret where the three boys are concerned, and it had been a necessary division from them-- because they believed him to be the enemy now; he'd cemented that on the beach in Cuba. Erik's unsure why he asked in the first place-- not out of fondness, surely. ] I trust you to educate them well-- they'll be better off here; Hank and Sean particularly. [ Those kids were not made for war. Though, neither was Charles. The man is too soft, too unmarred. But not unmarked by it, admittedly.]
Raven never entirely left you, Charles-- there is no way she could ever turn away from you entirely. You're her brother. [ He hopes it's something of a comfort-- and it is the truth, Raven had struggled-- he knew, to adjust to her chosen life. ] In a certain respect, it's a selfish thing to keep coming back
( ... )
I think everyone can benefit from a proper education, from a proper home. [ For a moment it might seem like he's headed for an argument but he tacks on, delicately, ] But unfortunately, sometimes, that isn't an choice. [ He wanted to amend that they had missed him, too, but that wasn't terribly honest. They had been confused; rarely privy to his ire or opinion of humans it had come out nowhere for the boys, but they adapted, as mutants often did. As people did. ] They're smart boys, though, they'll do well.
[ He purses his lips and for a moment looks as if he doesn't want to continue down this path in their conversation. ] I know that-- and she knows she's welcome home any time she cares to come back. [ She had made a choice, as Erik had, and he had learned to accept it-- most nights, anyway. ]
Do you think? I don't know if I could bear the thought of you never returning.
No. Usually there is no choice, particularly in the face of a war. Certain things become sidelined for that. [ Erik moves backwards and watches Charles' face for a pointed second-- before breathing out a long breath; not quite a sigh, but still audible. He stops any sort of bite of a retaliation, and it's easy enough-- he honestly does not want tension between them; they have enough of it in the past to cover for that. ]
Yes, she did. Raven and I both did. [ Not able to keep any kind of real distance from the telepath, he shifts to slide his arms around him again, chin ducking down so that it's tucked against Charles' neck, a warm cloud of breath brushing against the skin. The familiar weight is vastly sobering, and Erik's eyes drift shut with the ache of knowing that come monday, he'll have to face another separation. He speaks quietly, hushed to a whisper by their intimate proximity. Neither could I, and it's why I come back. But it's-- in a way, Charles, it's not-- fair on you; to keep you waiting with months between, and-- I can
( ... )
[ He can feel the soft, growing bubble of fear when Erik pulls back-- wondering if he's finally stepped over that line and ruined their evening. He manages to take a few quiet breaths and stares, unable to find any words to soothe the situation when he feared all of this would just make it worse. It wasn't till Erik leaned back in that he felt the heavy thudding in his chest ease. He had to wonder sometimes what was so terribly wrong with him; he had never really wanted to be so stubborn, perhaps even arrogant, he had just wanted to help-- but as time wore on he found himself pushed into a box of belief that he was unable to share with anyone else. The students liked his ideals but had trouble following them as closely as he did-- it was a fight not to harm, not to kill, these days. It was becoming a smaller and smaller box and Charles wasn't sure how long it would still have room for him. ]
I made my choice, Erik. [ The words are soft, pained but affectionate. Turning his head to try and press a kiss to his ear with the other mutant
( ... )
Well then. [ He tilts his head enough to look Charles in the eye again, feeling the tension in him from when he'd moved away, and he regrets upsetting him for a moment-- worried that the slightest movement he makes towards bringing up the semblance of a disagreement can set the man on edge; and he allows the kiss to his ear-- following it up with a brush of lips against the other's neck; nose ghosting the hollow beneath the curve of his jaw. ] I'll just have to keep coming back, won't I? I'd be here far more often if I could, Charles-- it's difficult; you understand.
[ What they've got here, opposed to the antagonism that exists outside the confines of these covert meetings-- is a conundrum for him; it poses a difficult clash of worlds; because in opposing the X-Men, he opposes Charles; and either way it's Cuba all over again. His hand strokes down the telepath's side, fingers picking at the fabric of the sweater with an absentminded idleness, and with a tired exhalation he rests his head back down on Charles' familiar shoulder.] I
( ... )
I understand, [ He doesn't like it, hates it on the harder days, but he always understands. They each feel a draw, to their cause, a painful one that refuses to be ignored even in the light of care and affection and family and home. Not to say his will was perfect, there were nights when he sat by the window, projecting to a man who couldn't hear him-- that he wondered what would happen if he were to give it all up. To hide away, somewhere different, live out his life as if he had never been a mutant-- he couldn't though, and he knew that; his will and his obligations, his responsibility wouldn't let him. But sometimes, on long nights, he thought it was alright to wonder.]
I know, [ He threads his fingers up through his hair and then back down, each touch radiating with the same soothing feeling he had been attempting to draw out. ] It's alright, I don't blame you.
It'll get better, eventually. [ He's not so sure about that-- because warring beliefs, no matter the good will behind them, are still warring beliefs-- and he's unsure if they'd be the same men that they are now, without their convictions. Happier, undoubtedly-- but not the same. The helmet he wears because the idea of Charles touching his thoughts, endlessly lodged in the back of his mind, seeing the cruelty up close-- is acutely disturbing to him. It's not that alone, however-- the brush of Charles' mind is a painful memento of the other's presence; an invitation to come home, and to give up on the Brotherhood-- and he's strong, but not consistently enough to be impervious to that. ]
I've missed you. [ Erik confesses, nosing into the telepath's shoulder-- far more like the man he was once, than the mutant general he's quickly becoming. ] God, Charles.
And I've missed you, so dearly. [ Another kiss, short and sweet and just above his ear. One hand departing from Erik just long enough to adjust his legs, pulling that close with his legs still angled the other direction was uncomfortable. Fingers moving back up he pushes lightly against Erik's chest so he could look him in the eye. ] I've got no one to play chess with, isn't that terrible? [ The comment is lighthearted, even when it looks like he might cry. Leaning up he steals another brief kiss before pressing his forehead to Erik's. ]
[ A hand hooks under Charles' knee to help him adjust his position-- something infinitely tender in the simple movement, though his hand doesn't linger longer than necessary; he's well aware that the gesture is not felt, physically, and he's still cautious. At the press of the other man's hand he looks up, the watery-blue of Charles' eyes holding him, and there's a grimace in response to the comment; but Erik returns the kiss, cupping the telepath's jaw with a palm before he pulls back. ] I know, my dear friend-- [ What could he possibly say to that? It's simple in the weight it carries-- a mundane thing that had become theirs entirely. He can't keep the gravity out of his voice. ] It is terrible--Charles, I am-- sorry.
[ There's an uncomfortable swallow, and he resumes his former position, reaching out to enfold the other, curling his arms around him again. ]-- and there's nothing foolish in this, Charles; it's out of our hands-- in some ways. [ It's difficult and it's tragic, but not foolish; he aches at the misery he can discern
( ... )
[ He cant feel it in his legs, but he can feel the movement in his waist, but he doesn't protest or mind. Erik's touch was as welcome as it always was. ] You-- You owe me a game before you leave, at least. [ His smile shakes a little but it's still there and he throws both of his arms up this time, lacing them behind Erik's shoulders and pulling him into a firm hug. ] And you better not let me win, or I'll put you out in the snow. [ He laughs, and it's a little harsh, choked up by the crash of their emotions. ]
If there's nothing foolish, then why do I feel like such a fool?
Arms ease upward and gingerly make their way around him, as if afraid anything too much will make him leave. He's never sure of himself with Erik like he used to be; but he also used to believe that he would never leave and he had been so blindly wrong about that. A gentle squeeze as he turns his head just enough so that he could speak quietly to Erik, ] I've missed you. [ No pretense to be had, he was never sure how long he could keep him-- and he would ( ... )
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Then we'll enjoy the weekend. [ It's all he can hope for, a little bit at a time; something to dull that swollen ache that threatened whenever Erik had to leave-- whenever he was gone too long-- Hell, whenever Charles let his thoughts wander too far. ]
There's always a choice, Erik. [ He murmurs, but its quiet, almost painful-- as if he can't resist saying the words and yet he doesn't want to. Not now. Not really. He's terrified of starting an argument but that stubborn belief eats away at him and he can't help himself. It's almost miserable, the way he can feel his words pulling at his insides, reminding him that each one could ( ... )
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[ Erik gravitates to him, arms securely around his ribs; for those months at the mansion, Charles had been an unending source of support for him-- at the very least, he could provide something of that understanding, and put ( ... )
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No, much better now. [ His thumb traces over Erik's knuckles, comforted by the familiarity of their position despite the stark differences in situation. He tilts his head to the side a little more, brushing his cheek gently against Erik's own. ] Thank you.
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He stirs, turning his head to the side to speak into the other man’s jaw-continually crowding closer to him, and it might not be enough to broach that emotional distance that has grown between them, but it’s more than nothing-and he’s willing to take what he can get after so much time spent in opposition. ] Charles-- [ He’s vaguely unsure of what they have to speak about now, because he’s been wrapped up in the brotherhood’s activities. He settles for something ( ... )
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[ He pauses in his walk down memory lane of his first class of students and the newer ones that had come to call Xavier's home at the recollection of his-- of Raven. ] I see, it's probably for the best, coming back here the last time was very unpleasant for her. [ Charles had still ( ... )
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Raven never entirely left you, Charles-- there is no way she could ever turn away from you entirely. You're her brother. [ He hopes it's something of a comfort-- and it is the truth, Raven had struggled-- he knew, to adjust to her chosen life. ] In a certain respect, it's a selfish thing to keep coming back ( ... )
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[ He purses his lips and for a moment looks as if he doesn't want to continue down this path in their conversation. ] I know that-- and she knows she's welcome home any time she cares to come back. [ She had made a choice, as Erik had, and he had learned to accept it-- most nights, anyway. ]
Do you think? I don't know if I could bear the thought of you never returning.
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Yes, she did. Raven and I both did. [ Not able to keep any kind of real distance from the telepath, he shifts to slide his arms around him again, chin ducking down so that it's tucked against Charles' neck, a warm cloud of breath brushing against the skin. The familiar weight is vastly sobering, and Erik's eyes drift shut with the ache of knowing that come monday, he'll have to face another separation. He speaks quietly, hushed to a whisper by their intimate proximity. Neither could I, and it's why I come back. But it's-- in a way, Charles, it's not-- fair on you; to keep you waiting with months between, and-- I can ( ... )
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I made my choice, Erik. [ The words are soft, pained but affectionate. Turning his head to try and press a kiss to his ear with the other mutant ( ... )
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[ What they've got here, opposed to the antagonism that exists outside the confines of these covert meetings-- is a conundrum for him; it poses a difficult clash of worlds; because in opposing the X-Men, he opposes Charles; and either way it's Cuba all over again. His hand strokes down the telepath's side, fingers picking at the fabric of the sweater with an absentminded idleness, and with a tired exhalation he rests his head back down on Charles' familiar shoulder.] I ( ... )
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I know, [ He threads his fingers up through his hair and then back down, each touch radiating with the same soothing feeling he had been attempting to draw out. ] It's alright, I don't blame you.
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I've missed you. [ Erik confesses, nosing into the telepath's shoulder-- far more like the man he was once, than the mutant general he's quickly becoming. ] God, Charles.
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We're really a foolish couple of men, aren't we?
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[ There's an uncomfortable swallow, and he resumes his former position, reaching out to enfold the other, curling his arms around him again. ]-- and there's nothing foolish in this, Charles; it's out of our hands-- in some ways. [ It's difficult and it's tragic, but not foolish; he aches at the misery he can discern ( ... )
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If there's nothing foolish, then why do I feel like such a fool?
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