Erik didn’t used to answer his phone at work, but, well, things change.
He can tell that Charles isn’t okay the minute he puts the phone to his ear. He can hear shaky, wet breathing on the other end.
“Hey,” Charles says, before Erik can ask, voice thin and cracking. “Can– can you come get me, please?” Erik tries not to let himself panic, but since the accident, it’s hard not to picture the worst.
“Yeah,” he says immediately, trying to keep his tone soothing. He already knows Charles isn’t present enough to think it patronizing. “Yeah, darling, I’ll be right there. You’re at work?”
“I. I think so.” Oh, Jesus.
“Can you look around?” Erik can’t grab his keys fast enough. Fuck, it hasn’t been this bad in months. “Tell me what you see, yeah?”
“Um. Desk. I’m at a desk.”
“A wood desk, or a white desk?”
“Wood?”
“Alright. You’re in your office, then, at the university. I’m on my way there.”
“Okay.” Charles’s voice cracks. He lets out a tiny sob.
Erik scribbles out a note to his secretary: Charles needs me, cancel everything for 2day. Will reschedule tmrw. and slaps it down on her desk. It’s only another breath before he says, a little strained, “Can you talk to me? What’s going on?”
“I’m just. I don’t feel well, and I really…” His voice shrinks. “I need you. You’re coming, aren’t you?” It takes a lot for Charles to ask him to leave work, even when he really needs it, stubborn as he is. But he says he’s safe, so Erik tries not to panic. All he can do is be a good husband, be calm and come get him.
“I’m on my way.” He gets in the car, turns the key in the ignition. “You can hear the car starting, yeah? I’m on my way. Can you try to tell me what feels bad?” They’ve done this before, countless times. It’s only in the last couple years, with all the doctors and medicines and therapists, that Erik’s figured out the best ways to talk to Charles when he’s like this, which questions are easiest to answer. “Here. Is it mental or physical? I’m guessing mental?”
“Mental, I suppose, but it’s…” Charles coughs, hard. “My chest hurts now.”
“Alright, love. Thank you for telling me.” Keep him talking. Project calm. He knows better than to ask what triggered Charles and start the whole episode over again. That’s for after. “You’re going to be alright. Your chest is probably tight because you're anxious. I’m just a minute away. Do you want me to talk about something else?”
“Yes,” Charles chokes out.
“Okay. Well,” Erik forces himself to ramble about anything, knowing it’s really just so Charles can listen to his voice. “It was a pretty quiet day at the office, and I had everything mostly wrapped up before you called, so you’ve no need to worry there. The lunch you packed me was very good, thank you for that, by the way. And you saved me, because a man I really do not enjoy asked for a lunch meeting, and I said ‘Oh, such a shame, my incredibly handsome husband made me lunch, so I’ve already eaten.’”
Normally, even when he’s upset, Charles would wheeze out a laugh, but he doesn’t this time. Erik rambles about his walk with the dog earlier that day and about his cases for the month – he’s got two adoptions, which are his favorite. There’s still silence on the other end. “Charles? Are you breathing?”
“Yes.” He doesn’t sound much better.
“Alright. I trust you. I’m pulling into the parking lot, is the door to the building open?” Erik pulls into the first spot he sees, throws the car in park and starts heading toward Charles’s office, the phone tight to his ear. He can tell Charles lets out a calmer breath, knowing he’s almost there.
“Yeah, it’s open, my door’s open, I think. Just… just please don’t let anyone else in.”
“Of course not.” Erik pushes the door to the old brick building open — it’s dingy over here, but Charles likes that his office is across campus from his classrooms, harder to find and harder for people to bother him. “Alright, I’m down the hall, so I’ll see you in a second. If the door opens, it’s just me, okay?”
“Okay,” Charles repeats, still small, and Erik hangs up the phone.
When he walks in, Charles is in his office chair, elbows on his desk and his hands tangled in his hair. He’s hunched over, but Erik can just make out the tear tracks on his face.
“Hey,” Erik says, softly, as he walks in and gently closes the door behind him. He doesn’t want to startle Charles, but he crosses the small office before he even knows it, moving Charles’s wheelchair out of the way so he can get to him. “Hey, darling, can I touch you?”
Charles nods, tight, looking up at Erik with glassy, bloodshot eyes. He’s so, so pale. “Fuck,” is all he says. “Erik, fuck.”
“I know. I know. I’m here now.” Erik gathers him in his arms, not too tight, Charles whining softly and leaning his head into Erik’s stomach. It’s been years, but it’s still a little unsettling that Charles doesn’t stand to greet him. Erik strokes his hair, chest clenching. “I’m right here, yeah? You feel that?”
“Yes, you. You’re here.” Charles reaches blindly for his hand, and Erik twines their fingers, squeezing tight. Charles is vibrating, his breathing still coming out hitched.
“I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere, I promise. Here… can I…” Erik gestures awkwardly, but Charles gets the idea and nods. Erik takes that as permission, and in a quick, practiced moment, he lifts Charles, sits in his office chair and pulls him into his lap, one arm around his back so he doesn’t slip. “There we are. Let me get a look at you.” He brushes a stray lock of hair out of Charles’s face and kisses his forehead. Charles is stiff in his arms, but he relaxes just a little, letting Erik cup his cheek and trace it with his thumb. His breath is still coming in fast, short bursts. Erik puts a gentle hand on his stomach. “Try to breathe, yeah? Push against my hand, remember?”
“I know how to bloody–” Charles cuts himself off, coughing and wiping at his eyes with his sleeve, taking a rattling breath despite himself. He inhales, counts to five, exhales against Erik’s hand, like his doctor showed him.
“There you go, just like that.” Erik tugs him closer. He can’t resist it. He wants to take him home, where they can touch skin-to-skin, but he’s not sure if Charles can handle the car right now, and he feels like he needs to keep holding him, at least for a minute. “Can you try to tell me what’s wrong?”
“I– I’m panicking. I think. No, I. I’m definitely freaking out.” Erik could have guessed that. “I was having trouble… It’s easier now, because you’re here, but I couldn’t…” He breaks their eye contact, picking a spot on the floor to stare at. “I was having trouble remembering where I was, and it felt like the room was. Turning. And I couldn’t breathe.”
This used to scare the shit out of Erik, until he came to grips with the fact that PTSD is terrifying, but something that happens to a lot of people, and they can help Charles. And it’s only hard sometimes, these days, and Charles is absolutely, inarguably worth it.
“Okay,” he murmurs. He gently tips Charles’s chin up, so they’re looking at each other again. Blue, teary eyes are staring up at him. Charles trusts him so much, sometimes it overwhelms him. “You said it’s easier now? Do you want me to remind you where we are?”
“Yeah. Just. I just want to know that I’m… right.”
“Alright. I can do that. You’re at work, at the University of Pennsylvania, where you’re a very fancy professor of genetics. In Philadelphia, where we live. It’s 2022, and it’s December–fifth, I think? It’s very cold outside. And I’m here with you, and I’m very real, and I love you,” Erik rattles off. “You know this office, right? You’re safe here.”
“‘s my office,” Charles says, which is enough of an answer.
“That’s right. You just got a bit far-off. It’s alright.” Erik’s basic understanding of Charles’s episodes is that he doesn’t hallucinate or see some other place, he just panics so badly he gets disoriented and can’t remember where he is or what he was doing.
It’s happened after nightmares for as long as Erik’s known him. But after the accident, it sometimes happens when he’s fully awake. The panic attacks weren’t new, they could thank Kurt Marko for that, but the severity was.
“Don’t feel well, Erik,” Charles mumbles again, sounding frustrated and on the verge of tears again. “I don’t like this.”
“I know, liebling, I’m sorry. We’ve just got to get you grounded. We can do that. We’ve done this lots of times.” Erik finds the back of Charles’s sweater, sliding his hand up underneath it. Charles winces a little at the cold, but lets out a small, relieved breath. He always feels better when Erik touches his bare skin, so Erik keeps his thumb rubbing a little pattern wherever he can reach. “Is that alright?”
“That’s. Yeah, that’s very alright. That helps.” Charles folds his arms around Erik’s middle, resting his forehead against the plain of his shoulder. “I want to go home. But I quite feel like I’m going to throw up.”
“We’re going to wait for that to pass, then.” For as miserable as he sounds, Charles is definitely breathing better. Usually, if Erik holds him for a little while, he’ll start copying Erik’s breathing without realizing it. The nausea should pass soon. “We’ve got your emergency medicine here somewhere. In your bag, I think. Can you look at me?” Charles blinks at him, looking very much like he’d like to continue hiding his face. “Be honest. Do you feel like it’s an emergency?”
“Um. I.” Charles scrubs his hand over his face. “I don’t know.”
“If you don’t know, then it’s probably an emergency,” Erik says, raising an eyebrow. But Charles has to give the say so. His treatment plan is very clear that Charles not take anything on top of his usual cocktail, unless he truly feels like he can’t calm down and his usual coping mechanisms aren’t helping. And it’s also very clear that no one, including Erik, gets to decide that but him.
“I don’t… think so,” Charles says, slowly. “I. I feel awful, but I’m coming back. You’re here. We’re in my office.” He starts walking through the routine he’s meant to follow after a panic attack. “I see… You. You look worried. And I see my desk, and um, the walls are wood, and dusty. My wheelchair’s over there. I can. Um. I can hear the air conditioning? I can smell your cologne, and my tea from earlier. I feel your hand on my back.” It’s a way to check if he’s here, in the present, and to bring him back if he isn’t. His eyes are looking a bit calmer.
“That’s really good.” It loosens something in Erik’s chest, at least. “I’m going to check in again soon, okay? But if you say it’s not an emergency, then we’ll go with it.” He’s tried to argue before, and Charles did not like that. He said it made his anxiety worse, feeling like Erik was making it out to be worse that it was – was there something he wasn’t aware of? Did he sound crazy? So now, even if Erik would love to give Charles a xanax and haul him home, let him sleep and wake up better, he lets Charles decide that for himself.
“I think it’s okay. This helps.” Charles gives him a tiny, watery smile. “It is getting a little uncomfortable, though?”
“You are a bit contorted,” Erik murmurs. “We’ll go soon. How’s your stomach?”
“Queasy,” Charles admits, “but I have been all day.” Erik’s first instinct is to feel his forehead, but Charles pushes his hand aside. “I was just anxious all day. Couldn’t eat.”
“Darling,” Erik sighs. “How long did you feel bad before… before this?”
“Since I woke up.” Charles hooks his fingers into the hem of Erik’s shirt and doesn’t meet his eyes. “Please don’t ask me why I didn’t say anything. Sometimes I just. Want to be able to work, and live my life, even if I don’t feel my best. I just wanted…” His voice cracks again. “I just wanted to do it anyway.”
“You almost always do it anyway, Charles. You save up all your bloody vacation and take a month off at the end of the year.” Erik doesn’t make Charles look at him this time, just tucks his chin over the top of his head and keeps rubbing little circles in the dip of his spine. “I’m not upset that you came to work. That’s your choice. It’s the end of the day, so you must have gotten through your classes. You did fine. You did well.”
There is such a thing as pushing yourself too hard, Erik thinks, for the millionth time since Charles got out of the hospital two years ago, but they’ve had that argument so many times.
“This would’ve happened anyway. Something. Set me off. And you would’ve tried to keep me home if I told you, and you know it,” Charles says, a little bite to his tone, which comforts Erik, strangely. His boy is in there, that stubborn, rude bit that drives Erik mad. Charles is probably right, anyway. He’d do anything to avoid this, and it’s one of their clashing points: Take two people who were stubborn in the first place, plus Erik’s protective streak, then throw in Charles’s steely determination to do everything on his own. They’re working on it, but…
“You’re right. I probably would have,” Erik says out loud. “But I don’t want you to hide things from me. So. Next time, just tell me, and if you say you’re going to work, I can at least… I can at least call you at lunch, check on you.” He knows he’s gone utterly fucking soft when he adds, “I can even stop by, if that will help. But I can’t… I can’t do that if I don’t know.”
“Repeat all of that when I feel better,” Charles says into his shirt. Right. Charles isn’t feeling well, Charles just had a rather large panic attack, and Erik is lecturing him. “And ask me things, don’t demand them. Remember?”
“Sorry. You’re right. Sorry.” He tries not to let the guilt well in his chest. “I know you feel like shit, but you’re sounding better, at least. How do you feel about trying to go home? Think you can make it without getting sick?”
“I’d like to try.” Charles straightens up and winces. “Getting a bit of a cramp, if I’m honest. And I imagine you’re tired of holding me up.” Come to think of it, Erik’s arm is going a bit numb.
“Then we’ll try. Is getting in the car going to freak you out?”
“That’s you, dear,” Charles says with a wary smile.
It’s true: Erik’s the one who gets anxious driving, because he was the one driving that night. He’s the one who throws his arm out in front of Charles every time he has to hit the brakes too hard or take a sharp turn, who always watches him out of the corner of his eye and sometimes has to pull over if someone’s cut him off to take a deep breath. He’s been told that’s probably from trauma, too.
Charles’s demons are more to do with the trauma of being crushed in between splitting metal, of Erik pulling him out of the car and trying to keep him awake, of the white-hot terror of thinking he was going to die, and all the pain, and all the blood, and–
“Darling,” Erik says, gripping his shoulders, hard enough to register, but not to hurt. “You’re getting that look again.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Charles takes as deep a breath as he can, trying to concentrate on Erik’s hands on him.
“I thought you said it wasn’t going to freak you out,” Erik says, dubious.
“I was only thinking. I’m still not… All there. But I want to go home.” His voice shrinks, and he hates to sound needy and small, but. That ship’s sailed, for today. “I want to go home, please.”
“Alright. But you’re going to tell me if anything changes.” Demanding, again, not asking, but Charles doesn’t say anything. He feels a little bit of fondness in his chest, always does at the way Erik dedicates himself to taking care of him, so resolutely. Erik must catch it in his eyes, because he kisses him, softly, no heat to it. “I love you. I don’t know if I’ve said that since I got here.”
“You did.” Charles kisses him again, trying to let the familiarity of it calm him. “I haven’t said it back, I’m sorry. I love you. Thank you for leaving work early, and for being here.”
“You don’t have to thank me. You’re my husband. I love you. I’ll always come.” Charles holds back the logical part of him that wants to argue, you won’t always be able to come, and that’s okay, but he lets the moment hang.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he says this time, instead of thank you.
“You’re never going to have to know, so that’s fine.” Erik offers him the smallest hint of his shark-grin. “Let’s go home, yeah? Go see your stupid dog?” Of course, that’s what gets a real smile out of Charles. “Alright. I’m going to have to lift you.” Charles fucking hates that, it makes him feel infantile, unless it’s in some sort of romantic moment. But with the way they’re sitting, and his wheelchair being across the room, he just sighs and wraps his arms around Erik’s neck.
It’s quick, easy, because Erik is stupidly buff, and he deposits Charles gently into his wheelchair.
Erik starts collecting Charles’s things without even asking, without even thinking about it, tucking his laptop into its case, dumping his tea bag into the trashcan and putting the mug into his bag, rolling up the cord to Charles’s headphones so they don’t get tangled and putting them away. The fondness in Charles’s chest grows. Husband Erik is his favorite. He hands Charles his phone and gestures to the books on his desk. “Do you need any of these?”
“Um. All of them.” Charles flushes. “I didn’t exactly get to lesson planning. Or grading. Or… anything I meant to do today. I couldn’t focus.”
“So you need…” Erik scans the table, “Six books? How are there six books we don’t already have at home?” They have a rather impressive collection, if impressive means that it’s overflowing onto every surface in Charles’s office, and he’s resolved himself to simply not going in there because the mess makes him twitchy.
“I have to check my sources!” There’s Charles. It’s welcome.
“Okay. Alright, fine.” Erik huffs and deposits as many books as can fit in Charles’s bag, and then grabs the other three. “Jacket?”
“I do leave the house without you, you know. Every day.” But Charles gestures to the windowsill beside his desk, where he throws all of his things because he can reach it. Erik grabs his parka and looks at him, chewing his lip, until Charles says, “I don’t need you to dress me, love, give it here.”
Charles really doesn’t need a jacket for the 30 second trip to the car, but he knows Erik likes to feel like he’s helping, and keeping Charles warm is something he can do, so he pulls it on.
“Is that everything?”
“Think so. You don’t have to carry everything, you know.” He holds his arms out for his backpack and Erik hands it over so he can sling it over the back of his wheelchair. “We can go?”
“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.” Erik goes to get the door for him, even though Charles has a button for that, and follows him quietly to the car. He’s still worried, still doesn’t really want to put Charles in the car when he’s not feeling well, but. Charles said he’d be okay and he said it was what he wanted. “We’ll go get your car tomorrow?”
“You can drop me off at work, and I’ll drive it back,” Charles says, and Erik was kind of hoping that he’d wait to see how he felt tonight, or in the morning, before he decided he was going to work, but. That’s an argument for another time.
“Alright. You okay to get in?”
Charles frowns, opening the door and leaning on his arms experimentally. They’re shaking. “Um.” He lets out a defeated sigh. “No, not as such.”
“Come on, then, let me.” Erik lifts him gently into the car, a gentle hand on his head to make sure he doesn’t hit on the ceiling. Charles makes a face. “Stop thinking about it so hard. It’s fine if you need me to help you. I need you to help me all the time.”
“You do not.”
“I do. I would have broken the entire house by now, with my temper tantrums, if I didn’t have you. Also, knowing you would judge me stops me from accosting people every day.” He closes the door, going around to the driver’s side. It’s easier, while he’s turned around to see behind the car, to keep talking. “You talk to me every day on my drive home, and I know you know I call because it scares me to drive for that long. You’ve been there since my mother died, and you know I still need you to get me through that, sometimes. So hush.” He turns back around, stealing a look at Charles, whose expression has gone softer.
“I guess you’re not. Wrong. But it’s… Not constant, not like I am.”
“Charles. You handle plenty on your own. And I know you don’t like to hear it, but something bad happened to me, too, okay?” It’s something he’s had to practice, saying that outloud, but it’s true. There’s no bite to it – the opposite, actually. “And that’s not… something to feel guilty about. Just. We’re both a bit damaged, and that’s alright. But it’s not one-sided, and I don’t mind any of this. We’re married, we’re family, we’re supposed to take care of each other. Did you honestly think I’d rather work than be with you?”
“Well. No.” Charles smiles a little bit, and takes Erik’s hand when he offers it, kissing his knuckles just to feel his skin. He’ll have to let go in a moment, because Erik doesn’t like driving one-handed, but he lets it comfort him for now. “That was. Actually really good, what you just said. I’m proud of you. I like being your family.”
“This isn’t about me,” Erik mumbles, feeling self-conscious. But he’s glad he said it, too. He lifts his chin, trying to regain his careful composure. “I’m proud of you, too, you know. You did the right thing, calling me.”
They’re coming around to their house, now. They moved closer to the city after everything, somewhere more accessible for Charles and a shorter drive to work for Erik. Charles doesn’t protest what Erik said, but he doesn’t respond either. “You didn’t… You haven’t asked what happened.” Charles tugs his hand back, chewing on his thumbnail. “You can.”
Erik pulls into their driveway, turning towards him. “You can tell me when we get inside? I can hold you that way.”
Charles nods, grateful, and Erik promptly takes him to bed.
–
Erik strips his shirt off, and Charles does, too. It comforts him to feel Erik’s skin, almost calming the tremors right away when he settles between Erik’s legs, his back against Erik’s chest.
Erik wraps an arm across his chest, tracing the freckles on Charles’s arm. He’d prefer they were face-to-face, but he knows Charles needs the contact. He lets the silence hang for a moment before he asks, “Would you like to tell me?”
“Well. I told you I didn’t feel well all day. I had a lot of nightmares, and when I’m exhausted, it’s… It’s harder. And I kept feeling, all day, like something bad was going to happen.” Without seeing him, Erik can tell he’s closing his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And then, well. It did.”
“What do you mean?” The worry is back. Is Charles sick? Or Raven? Is he getting laid off? What could have–
“Erik, you’re hurting me.”
“Oh, fuck, sorry.” He’d been constricting Charles, his arm squeezing tight with anxiety. “Sorry.” He loosens his grip, but doesn’t let go. “Can you tell me, before I have a heart attack, preferably.”
“Right. Well, um, Sharon’s dying.” Sharon? Did they know a Sharon…? Unless–
“Sharon Xavier?”
“I don’t know what she’s calling herself these days, but, ah. Yes. That one.” Erik’s heart squeezes with the ghost of the pain of losing his own mother. He knows it isn’t the same, but it still sucks the breath out of him.
“How did you even find out?” It’s not the right question, but it’s what comes to mind.
“She called me,” Charles says, his voice sounding strangled.
“She called you? No wonder you… Oh, love.” Suddenly, Erik needs to see Charles. “Turn around, please, baby, let me…”
“You only call me ‘baby’ when you think I’m going to disappear or something. I’m still here.” Charles lets Erik pull him down, so when he rolls over, they’re face to face. He leans forward so their foreheads are touching, taking a shaky breath. They’re okay. They’re together. Charles looks present, even though his eyes are watery again.
“Do you want to tell me what she said?”
“Just that… Well, she only has a few weeks. And that she knows she hasn’t been a very good mother, but she’s.” Charles’s breath hitches. “She’s proud of me. And she said Raven’s showed her pictures, which I’ll have to talk to her about, but she said I look well and she’s… She’s glad I have you, because Raven said you’ve been incredibly good for me. And she said some, um, unfortunate things, but… The kindness was worse. It felt so. False. I felt sick. The whole time. And. I don’t know what to do.”
Something fierce and protective flares up in Erik’s chest. His own relationship with Sharon is limited, but he’ll never forget how she spoke to Charles after Kurt put him in the hospital, acting like he’d chosen to snap his arm in two. Erik was seventeen and terrified and feeling the weight of being one of very few people Charles had in the world, then. He won’t forget that she didn’t come to their wedding (and he hadn’t even wanted Charles to invite her, but it meant so much to him), and the way Charles had, briefly, looked for her.
Charles always said she’d not been in her right mind since his father died, that she hated how he had his father’s eyes and she’d been so absent because she was, well, absent from the whole world. It let him excuse her, but Erik didn’t. She’s not worth your tears, Charles, I’m your family, Raven’s your family, Hank’s your family. My mother was your family. He wants to say all of it, and doesn’t let himself say any of it.
“You don’t need to know what to do,” he says, finally. “You’re not alone, and we’ll figure it out.” The words spill out with the need to comfort, to fix, to be there. “We’ll figure out what to do, okay? Not right now, not when you haven’t eaten or slept and you feel like shit.”
“Yeah. That. That sounds good.” Charles isn’t meeting his eyes anymore. “I’m going to be an orphan.”
“Well. I’m an orphan,” Erik says, carefully. He’s not sure if he’s ever looked at it that way before. “It’s… Strange. It makes you feel. Unmoored. But I have a family, don’t I? And so do you. Like we said earlier.”
“I do. I guess I just. I’ve felt like an orphan for a very long time. I haven’t seen her in years. I didn’t think it’d… feel different. And I won’t be able to go to the funeral, because Kurt might be there, and that would really be it for me–” Charles’s eyes are getting wide, his breaths shorter.
“She’s not even dead yet, Charles. Breathe. Stay here.”
“I’m here. I’m sorry.” Charles takes a deep, wavering breath. “I don’t have to go, do I?”
“Of course you don’t have to go. I don’t think I’d let you go.” Erik grips Charles’s hip, just gently, rubbing his thumb into the soft flesh there, just wanting to hang onto him. “We’ll just make that decision now, yeah? So you don’t have to think about it. We’re not going. And that doesn’t make you a bad person. You’re protecting yourself.”
“Okay. Yeah. Okay.” Erik knows it has to hurt. Whatever Sharon’s been to Charles, she’s still the woman who loved him, before his father died and she wasn’t ever the same. And Charles is neurotic about loyalty, about showing up for people and never letting anyone down.
But when Charles tucks his head against Erik’s throat, letting Erik snake his arms around him and squeeze, he doesn’t feel so rigid anymore. So he thinks it’s the right call.
“Now, I’m going to hold you for a little bit, and then I’m going to feed you,” Erik murmurs, kissing the top of his head. It feels like everything’s okay, when Charles is here, against him, warm and safe at home. “We’re going to try again tomorrow, and we’ll figure out how we’re dealing with this, I promise. Alright?”
“Alright,” Charles says into Erik’s skin. He kisses Erik’s collarbone as an afterthought, and Erik tightens his arms around him, feeling Charles start to go warm and pliant and affectionate. “You’ve gotten very good at all this. I love you.”
“I love you. I do try.”
“You do a pretty incredible job.” Charles’s voice sounds thick, but not in a bad way. “I– You know this was the first loving home I’ve ever had. I think… Without you, I’d still be trying to get her to love me.”
“Stop talking about being without me. I’m not going to allow that to happen,” Erik says, but he’s smiling, quietly fond. “You are very loved. Probably more than you’ll ever know.”
“I think I have an idea.” Charles lifts his head to kiss him, blinking tears out of his eyes. God, Erik married such a sap, and he’s become one, too. They stay there, eye-to-eye, for a moment, just marveling at each other, the quiet thrum of we’re still here, and we’re still together, after everything, between them.
In a little while, Charles will doze off, exhausted, and Erik will carefully untangle him and start cooking dinner. He’ll probably watch Charles too closely, knowing he didn’t eat all day, but Charles won’t say anything, because knowing someone’s there to worry about him makes him feel a little better about all of it. Maybe Charles will call Raven and talk about their mother.
But for now, they’ll just stay here. Together, like they should be.