Chapter 3
Erik hadn’t really had any concrete “alone time” with Charles since they had sat together that evening, and it wasn’t entirely his fault. He supposed that’s what he’d call it: alone time. That seemed rather childish, like they were disguising something from children, but Charles had taken to calling Raven, Sean, Alex, and Hank children (and dare he say it--their children), so it, at least, was subconsciously justified as his fault. The lack of Charles’ presence was not. Sure, some of that issue was to blame on his inherent avoidance of his feelings that he had decided to face while rather drunk on the closeness between the telepath and himself, but the other part of it had to do with the fact that there are four mutants besides Erik that Charles felt compelled to care for and train.
Not that Erik was even remotely jealous.
It wasn’t like he minded too terribly, either. He rather liked watching Charles pool over one of their fellow mutants’ issues with their mutation, and he enjoyed observing the solutions with which Charles set out to solve them. After all, Charles’ intention was, so he had said over breakfast about ten thousand times, to create a place for mutant children to obtain schooling from people who were as accepting of their mutations as they were willing to help get them under control. (A noble gesture, Erik thought, and he often thought it to Charles, who returned his pulsing approval with a cheery smile that seemed to brighten his mood for the day.) It was only fair he would start to work on bettering the community he was building up for the children--actual children--to come.
Charles had first thought it prudent to help out with Alex’s mutation, since he was the one most affected by matters of the heart, and he had taken to waking up in a cold sweat and burning holes through no less than three ceilings by accident. Alex had taken Darwin’s death the hardest, and if anyone noticed just how hard he had taken it, they didn’t say, especially not Erik. He had no room to criticize who’s hypothetical attraction to whom at all, and he intended to keep his nose out of whatever business Alex had going on in his own personal bubble. Charles, however, the ever-empathetic telepath, had sat down with him for two full days and worked with him, wherein they practiced controlling the rings with which Alex fought using something attached to his chest that looked like a modified pasta strainer.
After Alex, Charles had moved on to Sean, because Sean was better put to use learning to control his throat than blowing lazy rings of marijuana circles into the air of at least every room he occupied and trying to tempt Raven to join him. (Erik had an idea that it had more to do with Raven than with Sean, but he tried not to intervene.) It had been a big event when Sean was, apparently, meant to fly, and Charles had accidentally let it slip that they would be practicing over a window, which meant that everyone was going to watch him fall out of the second story window while he screamed at a frequency which was slightly too high to be comforting, but apparently did nothing to propel him from his place in Charles’ rose bushes. This, of course, was hilarious to everybody, including Sean, who simply laughed and picked thorns out of his shaggy orange hair.
Now, Charles ran around the mansion’s front lawn with Hank, who was steadfastly trying to avoid taking his shoes off and utilizing his prehensile feet to do anything more than occupy space in his socks. Charles turned lazy circles as he watched Hank pace and chatter mindlessly, and Erik sat, rather comfortable, on the front lawn, watching Charles and Hank work while Raven shifts herself into different forms distractedly.
“He really ought to be more proud of that,” Erik noted, watching Hank finally give in and remove his socks and shoes, rolling up the cuffs of his khakis so he could race Charles up a tree. He could hear Charles’ genuine laugh from where they sat, just he and Raven on the shadow-cooled grass, and it made his heart heavy and constricted in a way he packed into a tight spot in his mind that he would revisit later, when alone and more vulnerable. Hank’s gradually joined him, softer and more reserved, but still full and hearty alongside his tree companion.
Raven gave a hum of agreement and shifted into Erik. He smiled at her, at himself, and watched her as she spoke as him. “You’re right, me. He should be proud of the mutation he’s had to hide for his whole life, now that he suddenly gets to abandon his first instinct.” Then, she turned back into her favoured form, blonde and peachy, one eyebrow raised as her scales shifted slightly. “You know how stupid you sound, right?”
Erik sighed. Of course, that isn’t what he had meant, and both of them know it. He had forgotten what it was like to be a young adult, so defiant and easy to jump straight to the worst scenario. Now, as he edged right into a comfortable thirty-odd years, he mostly just felt tired, and contented, and a bit achey. Everything, even Shaw, seemed so far away, especially as he sat in the warm summery air and felt the soft breeze of shade seep into his bones. “I just mean that he’s among friends now, and if he wants to fight with us like he seems to, he’s going to have to let Charles see his mutation for something other than climbing trees.”
Raven hummed again, a little defeated. Erik looked over at her in time to see her shift silently into her blue form, which he admired appreciatively. Something about Raven was exquisite, but Erik did not find her exotic as much as he did beautiful. There was this air of easy confidence her blue form tended to give her, the knit between her eyebrows disappearing and the tenseness in her shoulders giving way to an easy proud chin and a face not concealed by her usual blonde fringe. “I guess so,” she said, voice dreamy, not looking at him anymore. Her gaze shifted to the tree Hank was hanging from, dangling Charles while upside-down on a branch. He looked to be having a good time, and something shone in Raven’s eyes. “I haven’t seen him this happy here since we were kids,” she said, and Erik knew she wasn’t referring to Hank.
“Well, he is being swung like a trapeze artist, so I’m sure that must be enjoyable,” Erik answered.
“Not just with Hank.” Raven turned to Erik, that knit in her brow back, accompanied with a small smile. “It’s you, too. When it was just the two of us here before, it was always so lonely and diluted for the two of us. He has a lot of bad memories here, from before me. I think it’s good for him to make something new out of this place.”
Erik felt at odds, like this was something he shouldn’t be hearing. He’d never heard such an accurate statement about someone before, and especially not about Charles. It certainly explained a lot, though; Charles always wanted to eat dinner in a new dining room every night, and he invited everyone to a different living room to chat and read and enjoy each other’s company whenever he could, and he walked down the long corridors when he talked, and he spent long hours exploring the grounds with whomever he could rope into the affair.
“Charles is making his saddest place happy,” Erik finally managed, after a long moment of silence between them that felt rather organic.
“No,” Raven said, voice certain as she looked at Erik. “I think you’re making Charles’ saddest place happy, and it’s making him happy in return.”
There is something in the look the two of them share, and Raven opens her mouth to voice whatever it is, but then Hank climbs the hill up to them with ease and Charles trudges after him, looking sweaty and slightly sun-kissed and so tousled Erik wants to cry, and to kiss him, and to make his saddest place as happy as he can. He is careful not to project this, but Charles’ smile is so wide and so honest when he sees Raven and Erik that he can’t help but let some of his own happiness at Charles’ appearance leak through.
Whatever it is that he and Raven shared, it goes unspoken. Not for the first time, Erik wishes he was a telepath. Instead, he takes a chattering Charles' arm and lets himself be dragged away from Raven, his place beside her in the grass now occupied by Hank.