Chapter 18
Sure enough, Erik did have a sprained ankle, and for that reason, Hank informed him that he would need to wear an ankle brace—much to Erik's annoyance.
Charles made sure Erik wore his brace whenever he engaged in any type of physical activity.
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It was a soft, peaceful morning—much like all the others.
Before school started and Charles had to leave to teach the students, he and Erik spent time together in the nursery. David was on the ground, crawling around and grabbing at his toys. Every so often, he would try to stand, but it was fruitless—he wasn’t yet strong enough to hold himself up.
Erik and Charles sat next to each other on the floor, simply watching their son. Their son, who looked so much like them.
Erik reached over, placing a hand on Charles’s thigh, rubbing small circles with his thumb. He knew Charles couldn’t feel it— because of him, because of what he had done in Cuba. Erik quickly shook those thoughts away.
"When do you think he'll start walking?" he asked softly.
"Anytime now," Charles replied, watching as David grabbed onto a stuffed toy and tried—once again—to pull himself upright. His little legs wobbled, determination clear on his tiny face before he plopped back down with a soft grunt. "He's very persistent when he wants something... reminds me of a certain someone."
Erik scoffed, shifting his position on the floor. "Please."
Charles smirked. "You know it's true."
Erik huffed but said nothing, watching as David tried again, brows furrowed in concentration.
David made a noise of frustration, and Erik reached forward instinctively, steadying him by the waist. The little boy blinked up at him before flashing a wide, toothy grin.
Charles chuckled. "See? He knows exactly what he wants and goes for it. Just like his father."
Erik arched a brow. "Which one?"
Charles tilted his head as if considering, then leaned in, pressing a brief kiss to Erik’s cheek. "Both."
Erik felt warmth creep up his neck, but he masked it with another eye roll.
David clapped his hands, delighted by something only he understood, before making another attempt to stand. This time, Erik and Charles both reached out, ready to catch him if he fell.
And in this moment—soft morning light filtering through the nursery window, the weight of their son between them—Erik knew he would never want to be anywhere but here.
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Charles sat at his desk in the empty classroom, organizing papers and textbooks when Hank walked in.
Charles looked up and smiled. "Hello, Hank. Is there something you need?"
Hank shook his head. "Actually, I came to offer something."
Charles raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what's that?"
"Well, I was thinking—tonight, Peter and I could watch David, and you and Erik could have a nice moment together in the study... or anywhere, honestly. You both could use it."
Charles considered it for a moment before nodding. "You know, that sounds splendid. I'll ask Erik. Thank you, Hank."
Hank shrugged. "Think nothing of it, Professor."
As Hank walked out, Charles reached out to Erik.
Erik was currently in the kitchen feeding David.
"Erik, love?"
Erik’s voice rang in his head. "Yes, Charles?"
Charles couldn't help but laugh at the frustration in Erik’s voice.
"Is David giving you a hard time?"
"...He won’t eat the damn baby food. I tried, but he keeps spitting it out— and now he’s throwing it."
Charles chuckled through the link. "Well, you can't blame him. Have you tried tasting that stuff? It’s dreadful."
"I am not eating baby food, Charles."
"Oh, come on. Just a little taste—"
"Absolutely not," Erik deadpanned.
Charles shook his head fondly. "Alright, love, I'll come help you in a moment. But before that, Hank offered to watch David tonight—with Peter’s help—so you and I can have some time to ourselves."
There was a brief pause before Erik responded. "...You mean an actual evening without baby food being flung at me?"
"Yes, Erik, an evening free of food fights."
"For once, McCoy has a good idea," Erik muttered.
Charles laughed out loud at that. "I'll be sure to pass along your glowing endorsement."
A small thud echoed through the mental link, followed by Erik's exasperated sigh. "David just threw his spoon. I’ll see you soon, Charles—before I end up covered in mashed carrots."
Charles grinned, shaking his head fondly as he gathered his things, eager to steal a rare moment alone with Erik later that evening.
Evening arrived sooner than expected.
Erik and Charles sat in the study, the room dimly lit by the flickering glow of the fireplace, casting soft shadows along the walls.
The warmth from the fire wrapped around them as they ate, plates of food in front of them and glasses of scotch in hand.
Silence wasn’t uncomfortable between them—it was companionable, a quiet understanding. Occasionally, they would exchange words, touching on various topics, but neither felt the need to dive too deeply.
When they finished eating, they began a chess match.
Erik couldn’t stop the flood of memories from the past, especially in this moment—when Charles looked so much like the man he had first met. Why had he ever left in the first place?
It was a foolish question. One he already knew the answer to.
But such thoughts should be forgotten—this was not the moment to dwell on the past, on betrayal, hurt, pain, and loneliness.
They played five rounds, with Erik winning two and Charles three.
"I think you're cheating," Erik muttered.
Charles lifted his glass of scotch to his lips, taking a slow sip as his eyes remained on Erik, filled with amusement and quiet adoration.
"I never cheat."
Erik huffed, leaning back in his chair as he eyed the chessboard with mild suspicion. "Mm-hmm. Convenient."
Charles chuckled, setting his glass down. "Perhaps you're simply off your game tonight."
Erik scoffed. "Or perhaps you're just overbearing."
Charles smirked. "And yet, here you are—losing to me."
Erik rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the small smile tugging at his lips. The warmth of the fire flickered in Charles's gaze, and for a moment, Erik allowed himself to forget everything else.
"Best of seven?" Erik challenged, already resetting the board.
Charles laughed softly. "You never do know when to quit."
They played to the best of seven, and sure enough, Charles won both rounds. At last, Erik called it quits.
"Alright, alright," Erik grumbled, leaning back in his chair. "I think I’ve had enough of being outsmarted for one night."
Charles smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You’re just mad I’ve got a superior strategy."
Erik raised an eyebrow, still pretending to be annoyed. "Superior cheating, you mean."
Charles let out a soft chuckle, setting down his glass. "I never cheat." His voice was mock-serious, and he gave Erik a playful wink.
Erik snorted, shaking his head. "You may be winning, but I’ll get you next time."
"Is that a challenge?" Charles leaned forward, his smile turning slightly mischievous.
Erik grinned back, a spark of competitiveness lighting his eyes. "You’ll see."
The two moved away from the chess board and retreated to the couch.
However, once Charles got himself situated on the couch, Erik remained standing.
Charles looked up at Erik, one of his eyebrows raised in curiosity.
Erik simply smirked down at him, his gaze playful yet daring.
"You know, I was thinking maybe we should have some fun."
Charles hummed thoughtfully. "Oh yeah? And what fun do you suggest, darling?"
"You'll see," Erik murmured, his voice low and teasing, as he moved to straddle Charles, his hands resting gently on Charles's shoulders for balance.
Charles's hands came up to rest on Erik's hips, his thumbs gently brushing the fabric of Erik's shirt. His eyes softened as he looked up at Erik, catching the mischievous glint in his gaze.
"Careful," Charles whispered, his voice a little breathless, his fingers tracing light circles on Erik’s sides. "You know what happens when you tease me."
Erik leaned in, his lips brushing against Charles’s ear. "I think I'm starting to remember," he said with a grin, the heat between them palpable.
Charles smiled, the challenge clear in his eyes. "Then show me what you’ve got, Erik."
With a quiet chuckle, Erik leaned down, his lips capturing Charles's in a kiss that was slow, deep, and full of the promise of more.
It wasn't long before the kiss became heated, and soon both of their shirts were gone.
Their tongues clashed for dominance, but eventually, Charles yielded, allowing Erik to take control.
After a while, Charles broke the kiss, gasping for breath.
As he stared into Erik's eyes, a deep, overwhelming feeling surged within him.
With all the sincerity he could muster, he whispered to Erik, "I love you."
Erik froze, his eyes widening slightly, his mouth parting in surprise. But soon he recovered, and a huge smile spread across his lips.
Erik leaned in, kissed Charles once more, and then pulled away. Resting his forehead against Charles's, he whispered back, "I love you."
The moment hung in the air, charged with the weight of those three simple words, yet so much more profound between them. The kiss that followed was soft, almost reverent, as though they were both savoring the significance of the exchange.