Not your grandfather's democracy
"Sometimes, Charles, your leftist idealism absolutely screams white privilege," Erik said bitingly. "It is beyond infuriating, it's... I have no words. I speak more languages than you can possibly comprehend, and yet I am speechless."
"Only sometimes?" Charles said wryly. "I'm flattered."
"Don't be ridiculous," Erik snapped. "Putting aside precisely how you intend to get this through the Senate - which, might I remind you, is a fairly big aside - how do you expect this to even work? You can't force acceptance upon people. If people want to hate, they will hate. Unless you propose to brainwash the entire country, which is a bit unrealistic even for you."
"I wouldn't do it even if I could, Erik," Charles said, stung. "I hope you'd know me better than that by now. And how else do you suggest I should proceed? If the Government does not take a stand, how do you expect people to change their attitudes?"
"You assume people will change their attitudes," Erik said bitterly. "Somehow despite all evidence to the contrary, despite what you have seen in these people's minds, despite the fact you can't even get people to understand the need for universal healthcare, you believe that acceptance is an actual possibility. They would never have voted for you if they'd known you were a mutant, Charles, you must know that."
"And what would you have me do?" Charles demanded. "Take the first step? Contain them with fear instead of trying to foster understanding? Would you have me abuse my position, make me into a tyrant who will use the power of the law and the state and my own mind to destroy those I consider lesser beings? I would have thought you, Erik, you of all people should know better."
There was a suspended moment, like a sharply indrawn breath, like stepping off a cliff only to find there's no more ground below you, then Erik's face and mind slammed shut and Charles's face drained of colour as he realised what he had just said.
"I'm sorry," Charles said after a stilted silence. "That was out of line."
"It was," Erik said, stiff but forgiving of a trespass he would forgive no one but Charles. "I hope you know what you're doing, Mr President."
"So do I, Erik," Charles sighed. "So do I."
“Of course you must be my Vice President,” Charles said, self-assured and confident, and Erik stared at him.
“Charles,” he said evenly, “I don’t know if you have somehow failed to notice this, but I was born in Germany, to Jewish German parents, as a German citizen. The only way I could be less American would be if I were actually extraterrestrial.”
“Of course I’m aware of that,” Charles said, dismissive as though there were something silly and fanciful about Erik pointing this out rather than it being a crucial bar against him ever being Vice President. “No one has ever questioned the fact that Raven is my younger sister, not even my mother. Whenever anyone asks for her birth certificate, I take care of it. So long as everyone believes you are an American citizen or can be convinced not to care, there’s no problem. How hard can it be?”
Erik experienced an ever more frequent moment of terror, not of Charles, but for him, for the terrible things he could do without even realising the significance of what it was he did, for the way humans would view him should they ever find out.
“Of course,” he echoed. “How hard can it be?”
As Secretary of State and equally importantly the younger sister of the incumbent President, Raven was frequently subjected to the headache known as Charles Xavier.
“Charles,” she said, exasperated. “You can’t always just use your powers to convince the Senate whenever you want to get a controversial Bill through. One day you’re going to overreach or someone’s going to find out and it’ll all end in tears.”
“Nonsense,” he said distractedly. “I’m simply giving them a little extra encouragement, that’s all. It’s just like debating, but with less time-wasting for political grandstanding.”
Raven sighed. “What scares me,” she said, “is that you don’t even realise when you’re being scary.”
Charles made a non-committal noise that was supposed to mean “I’m listening, really” but actually meant “I am talking to someone with my brain, probably Erik, and I have no idea what you just said, because it lacked keywords that interest me and so I filtered it out as probably too boring to pay attention to”.
Raven knew these things, because Raven had more experience dealing with her older brother than anyone, even Erik.
“Also,” she added loudly, “I don’t know how you and Erik expect to run a country together when you fight literally all the time and barely share any political ground at all beyond ‘mutants good, mutant persecution bad’.”
“Sorry, what?” Charles said, blinking and finally looking back at her. She’d said the magic word: Erik.
“Have you ever agreed on even a single proposal without extensive arguments first?” she demanded.
“Uhhhh,” Charles said. “I’m sure there must be at least /one/. Surely. Just give me a moment, I’ll come up with something...”
“Yeah, right,” Raven scoffed, at which point Erik breezed into the room and said, “Charles, will you marry me?”
“Of course,” Charles said vaguely, still frowning with thought, then his head whipped around and he blurted, “Wait, what? I mean, yes—but—of course, but—what?”
“There you go,” Erik said calmly, turning to Raven. “A proposal on which we both agreed, without arguing. Happy?”
“Hang on, did you just ask me to marry you to prove a point?” Charles objected, deflating slightly. Erik rolled his eyes.
“Don’t be ridiculous, of course not,” he said dismissively. “I’d been planning on asking already, that particular opening was just too good to miss.”
Raven thought that kind of one-upmanship was frankly a little bit disturbing, even by Erik’s standards, but Charles seemed to think it was romantic rather than freakish so who was she to interfere?
“That’s cheating,” she said instead. “Anyway, let’s get to the wedding planning stage and then we’ll see who’s arguing.”
“Ah, but you said first,” Erik pointed out. “Any arguing that happens later is irrelevant to the question.”
“This is why I hate politicians,” Raven said sourly.
"But you are one," Charles said, perhaps unwisely, because then she turned to him and snarled, "Whose fault do you think that is?" which even he couldn't argue against.
"I can't help being persuasive," he said, injured, and then a moment later: "If we get married, what do you think that will make Erik? The First Man? That makes me think of cricket. The First Chap, perhaps?"
"No," Erik said firmly, "God, no," and Raven thought, here we go again, she knew this would end in more arguing.
"I told you so," she muttered, and walked out.
Ladies and gentlemen, the two most powerful men in the world. Christ.