Second Mutations

One late morning, an unexpected visitor arrived at the house.

Erik was in the nursery with David, watching as the baby lay on the floor, attempting to crawl or move in any way he could while playing with his toys.

Meanwhile, Charles was in the middle of teaching a literature class when the doorbell rang.

Charles heard Erik in his head. "You have a visitor. Were you expecting someone today?"

"No, I wasn't expecting anyone."

Immediately, Charles felt the surge of protectiveness and high alert radiating from Erik.

"Class is canceled," Charles announced.

The students murmured in confusion, but Charles didn’t wait to explain. He closed his book and wheeled himself out of the room, already reaching out with his mind to sense who was at the door.

He caught a brief glimpse of the visitor’s mind, but their thoughts were too fast to grasp fully. Still, Charles smiled as he realized who it was. He hadn't seen him since they helped break Erik out of the Pentagon.

Just as Charles reached for the door, Erik’s voice echoed in his mind. "Who is it?"

"It's just Peter, nothing to worry about."

"Peter… who’s th—wait, is he the one who broke me out of the Pentagon? The really fast one?"

"Yes, Erik, he’s the one."

"What is he doing here all of a sudden?"

Charles hesitated for a moment. He already knew why. The reason radiated off Peter so clearly, even through his rapidly moving thoughts. But there was one thing Charles managed to catch: "I need to find Erik and tell him I’m his son."

"You'll find out soon enough."

"What do you mean?"

But Charles ignored him, opening the door to reveal a young man with silver hair.

"Peter, welcome. What a pleasant surprise."

Peter gave a lopsided grin, running a hand through his silver hair. "Yeah, hi. It’s been a while."

Charles rolled aside, gesturing for him to come in. "It certainly has. Please, come in. What brings you here?"

Peter hesitated for a split second before stepping over the threshold. His usual air of carefree confidence wavered just slightly—something Charles immediately picked up on.

"I, uh… was wondering if… you know where Erik is?" Peter's voice wavered. He shifted on his feet, glancing away for a moment.

Charles couldn’t help but smile slightly at the sight of him so uncharacteristically shy. "I do, actually. He’s upstairs."

Peter froze. "He’s here?"

"Ah, right. I suppose the last time you saw us together—though it was only for a split second—we weren’t exactly on good terms. But things are different now. We’re in a much better place than before."

Peter nodded, shifting on his feet.

"How about we head up to my study?"

Another nod—and then, in an instant, Peter was gone.

A small breeze ruffled Charles’ hair, the only sign of Peter’s departure. Charles let out a faint chuckle, shaking his head before making his way to the elevator.

By the time he arrived and closed the study door behind him, Peter was already seated in a chair, looking as if he had been there for ages.

Charles rolled behind his desk, positioning himself so he was facing Peter directly.

Peter, meanwhile, was glancing around the study, taking everything in—the bookshelves, the old artifacts, the papers stacked neatly on the desk.

Charles remained silent, watching him carefully. He could feel the tension radiating off Peter, the rapid-fire thoughts racing through his mind, each one cutting off the next before it could fully form. Nervous energy practically hummed off him.

After a beat, Peter finally spoke. “You’re a telepath, right? So… you already know why I’m here?”

Charles nodded. “I do.”

Peter shifted in his seat. “So, you know that Erik is my dad, then.”

“I do,” Charles confirmed. “But don’t worry, I haven’t told him.”

At that, Peter sagged a little, his relief almost palpable. “Good. That’s… good.” He glanced down at his hands, twisting his fingers together, before shaking his head with a humorless chuckle. “Man, this is so weird. I mean, I’ve thought about this a million times, y’know? What I’d say, how I’d do it. But now that I’m actually here, I feel like my brain’s short-circuiting.”

Charles tilted his head slightly, studying Peter. He could feel the fear threading through his thoughts—the deep-rooted anxiety that had followed him here, whispering doubts at every turn.

“What’s your goal in coming here, Peter?” Charles asked, his tone as soft as it was steady.

Peter hesitated, his leg bouncing again. “I want to tell Erik, but—I don’t know.” His fingers resumed drumming against his knee, faster now. “What if he doesn’t accept me? What if he thinks I’m just some random kid looking for attention? Or worse—what if he thinks I’m a total loser? Which, let’s be honest, I kind of am.”

His attempt at humor fell flat, and Charles could hear the real fear beneath it—the fear of rejection, of being brushed aside, of not being enough. It wasn’t just Erik’s potential disappointment that scared Peter. It was the idea that he had built this up in his head for so long, only to be met with indifference.

Charles regarded him for a long moment, then leaned forward slightly, his expression kind. “Peter, do you truly believe that?”

Peter hesitated. His mouth opened, then closed, his gaze flickering to the side. Finally, he shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I think you do.” Charles smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. “And I think you’re wrong.”

Before Peter could respond, the door to the study creaked open, and there stood Erik, cradling David in his arms. The soft light from the hallway seemed to halo around him, making him look even more imposing—more commanding—as he stepped inside.

Charles noticed the instant change in Peter’s posture. The way his back straightened, his shoulders pulling back just a fraction, as if he was preparing for something much bigger than a simple conversation. His nervous energy spiked again, a mix of excitement and fear swirling within him. Peter’s jaw clenched, his hands fidgeting, betraying the calm front he was trying so desperately to put up.

Erik seemed completely unaware of the tension in the room, his usual calm demeanor unfaltering as he stepped closer, his eyes flicking between Charles and Peter. David, oblivious to the heavy atmosphere, giggled softly in Erik’s arms, his small hands grabbing at Erik’s shirt, making soft cooing sounds as he shifted to look at his father.

Charles could feel the air in the room shift—the weight of unspoken words, the years of distance between Peter and Erik, and the gravity of this very moment. He glanced at Peter, noting the slight flush to his cheeks and the way his eyes kept flicking from David to Erik, but never staying on either for too long.

Peter was nervous, but there was something else too—something deeper, almost like longing. And Charles could feel it, sharp and fragile, like a thread ready to snap under too much pressure.

Erik looked down at David, then at Charles. “Is everything alright?” His voice was calm, but the question held a subtle edge, a question about more than just the baby. He seemed to sense the tension in the air, even if he couldn’t yet place it.

Peter shifted again, this time standing up from the chair with an almost involuntary movement. His gaze flickered toward Erik but never fully settled on him, as if he were still unsure how to approach the situation.

Charles could feel Peter’s emotions, swirling just below the surface—uncertainty, a deep desire to connect, and an overwhelming fear of rejection. He knew the time had come for Peter to speak up, but the question was whether he would find the courage to do so.

Charles rolled himself over to Erik’s side, offering him a reassuring smile. “Everything’s alright,” he said softly.

Erik’s eyes flicked from Charles to Peter. The moment stretched, a brief silence hanging between them, before Erik’s voice broke through. “Hello, Peter. I never got the chance to properly thank you for your help during the Pentagon. You risked a lot to help us.”

Peter's face flushed slightly, the weight of Erik’s words settling on him. “Ah, it’s nothing, really.” He shrugged awkwardly, trying to downplay it, though his voice betrayed his discomfort.

Erik raised an eyebrow, studying Peter. His tone softened, but there was a hint of sincerity in it. “It wasn’t ‘nothing.’ You were a big part of getting me out of there."

Peter shifted uncomfortably under Erik’s gaze, unsure how to respond. He hadn’t been expecting this kind of gratitude from Erik. His eyes flicked to David in Erik’s arms, the child’s innocent gaze a sharp contrast to the tension that had settled into the room.

Before Peter could even think fully on what he was about to say, his mouth opened faster than his mind could. “Cute baby. I didn’t know you guys' taught babies.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Peter's attempt at a diversion. He glanced at Erik, who was holding David with an almost protective ease. “That’s because we don’t,” Charles replied with a slight smile, his voice tinged with humor.

Peter blinked, his face flushing as he realized what he'd said. “Oh.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to recover from the slip-up. “Well, you know, I figured... maybe some sort of advanced baby curriculum.”

Erik chuckled quietly, his lips curling into a grin. “An advanced baby curriculum, huh? Maybe we should consider that for the future. Baby David might just be the next genius on the block.”

Peter snorted, then let out a nervous laugh, realizing how ridiculous his comment sounded. His usual sharp wit had faltered under the weight of the situation. But for a moment, the tension seemed to lift, the room feeling a bit lighter.

Charles couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. “We’ll keep that in mind for his next lesson plan,” he teased, clearly enjoying Peter’s unease.

Peter scratched the back of his head, chuckling awkwardly. “Yeah, okay, that might be a bit much. But seriously... he’s adorable. Who's the parents?"

As the words left Peter’s mouth, he couldn't help but stare a little longer at the baby in Erik's arms. His gaze softened, and even though he was long past the age of needing a father’s embrace, the sight of David in Erik's arms stirred something deep within him. It was a strange feeling, one he hadn’t anticipated—an overwhelming sense of longing that he hadn’t quite expected.

Erik and Charles exchanged a glance, both silently weighing the best way to navigate the situation. The unspoken question hung in the air: How would they reveal the truth? And once Peter knew, what would he feel? What would he think?

Very softly, Charles asked, "Peter, do you know anything about second mutations?"

Peter shook his head. "No, never heard anything about second mutations."

Charles gave a nod. "Alright, well I'll tell you briefly. One can manifest a second mutation out of nowhere and it can range from anything. And if someone gets a second mutation, especially a male, then sometimes that mutation could involve pregnancy."

Peter stayed quiet as he tried to process Charles’s words. Pregnancy? Male? His mind raced to catch up, unable to fully wrap around the concept. He looked down at David, who was still nestled in Erik's arms. The baby’s features were delicate, with a clear resemblance to Charles but a hint of Erik’s strong jawline. The realization hit Peter like a ton of bricks.

He blinked, his mouth going dry, and then glanced up at Charles and Erik. His heart skipped a beat as the pieces finally clicked together. His eyes flickered between them, the words hanging in the air. They’re the fathers. His gaze moved back to David, his mind still reeling. 

Erik and Charles stared back at him, and for a moment, Peter could feel the weight of their expectation. Erik’s narrowed eyes suggested he was waiting for a reaction—a judgment, maybe even disgust. But Peter didn’t feel any of that. His mind was still spinning, but his instinct was to accept it. It was... surprising, yes, but in a way, it made sense. 

“Oh… you guys are the fathers. Wow, that’s…” Peter trailed off, his voice softer now, almost in awe. "Congrats."

Peter added, his words tumbling out quickly, "Actually, it doesn’t surprise me. Back at the Pentagon, I had a feeling there was something between you guys, but I never wanted to assume. You know, didn’t want to be the guy who’s like ‘Hey, look, I’m a mind reader!’—though I guess that’s kind of what I do sometimes, huh?" Peter chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Anyway, didn’t want to step on any toes, so I kept my thoughts to myself."

Charles couldn’t help but laugh slightly, the sound light and amused. Peter had always been a little all over the place with his words, but Charles appreciated the honesty beneath it all. It was refreshing, in a way. He knew Peter was rambling out of nervousness.

But Charles was also keenly aware of something else—the longer Peter danced around the subject, the longer this conversation would drag on without the real reason for his visit being addressed. And Charles had a feeling that if he didn’t nudge Peter in the right direction, the young man might never actually say what was on his mind.

Charles glanced at Peter and gave a soft cough. Peter turned to find Charles subtly gesturing toward Erik.

It didn’t take Peter long to realize what Charles was trying to do.

He quickly looked back at Erik, who was focused on David.

"Actually, there's a reason I came here," Peter said. "Uh, is it alright if I speak with you in private... Erik?"

Erik looked up, a furrow crossing his brow. "Sure."

He turned to Charles and handed the baby to him. Charles smiled down at the infant.

"I’ll leave you two to it." With that, Charles rolled himself out of the study.

Once the door closed behind him, Erik made his way to the couch. Not sure what else to do, Peter followed suit.

Erik turned to Peter. "What is it you want to talk about? I doubt there's anything I can help you with."

Peter swallowed hard, trying to steady his nerves. This was it. He was finally going to say it.

Before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out. "I’m your son."

Erik froze, his eyes widening slightly as he processed the words. For a moment, everything felt still, as if the room had become too quiet, too heavy. He stared at Peter, disbelief flickering in his gaze.

Peter held his breath, his palms sweating as the tension in the air thickened.

Erik thought back to the Pentagon, recalling when Peter had offhandedly mentioned that his mother knew a guy who could move metal.

"What’s your mom’s name?" Erik asked, his voice softer now.

"Magda Maximoff," Peter answered, his eyes searching Erik’s face for any sign of recognition.

Erik’s gaze softened, a mix of disbelief and something deeper flickering in his eyes. "So, I really do have a son." His voice was barely above a whisper, as if the weight of it was still sinking in.

A long silence stretched between them, filled only by the quiet hum of the room. Erik looked down, his jaw tight, before meeting Peter's eyes again.

"I’m sorry I wasn’t there," Erik said, his voice laced with regret. 

Peter’s chest tightened at the apology, a wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm him. He hadn't expected this—hadn’t expected Erik to acknowledge the pain, to apologize.

"It's alright," Peter managed to say, his voice steady despite the emotions he was holding back.

Erik shook his head, his expression heavy with regret. "No, it’s not alright. I missed your toddler, teenage years... everything."

Peter’s chest tightened, but he forced a smile. "Well, I’m here now. We can get to know each other... if you want that. If not, that’s totally fine."

Erik paused for a moment, his gaze softening. Slowly, he reached out, placing his hand gently on top of Peter's. Peter stared down at the unexpected gesture, a mix of emotions swirling in his heart—confusion, hope, and something deeper that he couldn’t quite name.

Erik’s voice was quiet, sincere. "Peter, I would love that."

Peter swallowed, the weight of those words sinking in. He looked up at Erik, his heart pounding a little faster. For the first time in his life, he could feel a flicker of something resembling a real connection with the man who, despite everything, was his father.

"Then let's start," Peter said, his voice quieter now, but filled with a warmth that had been missing for far too long. 

Peter never would have imagined it would turn out like this. Sure, he had hoped, but when he saw Erik on TV, he only saw the dark, powerful figure—the one people called a murderer, a monster. That Erik terrified him. He feared that if he told Erik the truth, the man would look at him like some weakling, some failure who didn’t measure up.

But now, as he sat here, staring at the man who had once seemed so untouchable, Peter felt a sense of disbelief and relief. To his surprise—and delight—Erik didn’t look at him like that. He didn’t see weakness in Peter. Instead, Erik saw him as he was: his son.

In that moment, Peter realized something crucial. Erik wasn’t the monster the world had made him out to be. He was more complicated than that. Yes, he had his darkness, his flaws, but he wasn’t just the sum of his mistakes or the villain people had written him off as. And for the first time, Peter felt like maybe, just maybe, he was starting to see the man behind the reputation.

                                                                                                                ----------

Peter decided to stay at the mansion, giving himself the time and space to get to know his father better. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was a chance he hadn’t had before—and he wasn’t about to let it slip away.

Late that day, as the soft glow of moonlight filtered through the windows, Erik and Charles lay next to each other in comfortable silence. Erik’s head rested on Charles’s chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling them into a peaceful quiet.

Finally, Erik broke the stillness, his voice barely above a whisper. "You knew Peter was my son, didn’t you?"

Charles’s hand gently ran through Erik’s damp hair, his touch slow and soothing. 

"I did," Charles replied quietly, his thumb brushing over Erik’s scalp. "And don’t say I should’ve told you. You know it’s not my place."

Erik didn’t respond right away. Instead, he spoke softly, almost as if the words were still sinking in. "I can’t believe it. I have two sons."

Charles smiled gently, leaning down to place a soft kiss on top of Erik’s head.