Chapter 3
Charles wanted to show Erik everything, his favorite nooks and crannies, the tree he liked to sit under on the few lazy mornings where he woke up before his students, the part of the lab where he kept all of his old research papers. Erik seemed happy to go on every tour, to let Charles go on about the time he’d spent all day with Raven in a linen closet or how used to climb his favorite tree when he was young and still fearless. Erik listened to every story with a strange little smile, nodding at all the right times, even finishing his sentences for him. Sometimes Charles would catch Erik watching him while he rambled on about a book or his research, fond but a bit melancholy, familiar in a way that didn’t make any sense.
Except that it did, how sometimes he knew what Erik was going to say before he said it or what expression he was going to make, how Erik’s hand on his shoulder felt like an expectation rather than a surprise. It made no sense and perfect sense at the same time. All Charles knew was that he wanted to share every part of himself with Erik, and luckily Erik seemed interested in getting to know all of him.
Or almost all of him, because it had taken three weeks and three tours before Charles finally got Erik to follow him down the hallway and past his bedroom, to a room that used to hold his step-father’s exercise equipment and now held the grandest thing on the estate. Charles had no idea why Erik seemed so wary about Cerebro, but even now his brow was furrowed when Charles pushed the door open and revealed his and Hank’s greatest achievement. Charles would be insulted, if he wasn’t so excited to see his favorite toy.
“And this is Cerebro.” Charles said with a bright grin as he ran his hand down the smooth metal helmet. He could practically hear the thousands of voices, each uniquely beautiful. He wondered idly what Erik’s voice would sound like added to that melody, if his mind would sing brighter than the rest, perfect in its discordance. Charles shook the thought away after a moment. He’d never feel that voice as long as Erik wore that helmet, and he seemed hopelessly attached to it. Charles hadn’t felt even the faintest impression of his mind, and he’d feel that much, no matter how good Emma Frost’s blocks might be. Charles often wondered how he showered with it on, but hadn’t quite gotten up the nerve to ask yet. “This is how I found every student here, and good fun to boot.”
“It looks dangerous. Hank said that it gave you migraines.” Erik said dryly, looking unimpressed as he made Cerebro’s handles shake and twist in the air, as though they were wisened branches bowing beneath a strong gale. Erik narrowed his gaze, lips pinched as he looked at the machine with something akin to disgust. Charles wondered idly what exactly Hank had told him, because Charles usually downplayed his headaches and the ensuing nausea, never even mentioned the way his own mind was buried beneath the echos of all the others.
Hank must have caught on though, or Charles must have looked sick enough afterwards to give himself away. There had been times, when he’d stayed on a bit too long, his skin even paler than usual and pupils dilated, sweat pooling across his forehead and a tingling sensation in his limbs. Afterwards Hank had brushed a cold cloth against his forehead and massaged his hands until they stopped trembling and - And that all seemed rather intimate for Hank. Charles must be remembering wrong. More likely Hank had just left him a wet hand towel and told him to wring his wrists out until the shaking stopped. Either way, it wasn't as big of a deal as Erik was making it out to be, not when Cerebro gave him so much back in return for a little bit of pain. “Hank should mind his own business.”
“That’s not a no.” Erik pointed out with a wry grin, more of a quirk of his lips than an actual smile. The metal came to a stop, deceptively serene. Erik glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, gaze bemused as he finally let go of Cerebro. He brought his hand down to rest against the edge of a chair instead, sitting down and resting one foot against his knee, his other foot tapping against the floor. “What’s it like, having that many voices in your head at once?”
“Euphoric. I can feel all their hopes and fears, their ambitions. Everything. I feel like part of something bigger than myself.” Charles told him with bright eyes, not bothering to hide his excitement for once. He usually downplayed it, Alex and Sean rolling their eyes and Hank finding it all a bit too unscientific for his tastes. And with the students and their parents, it was a bit too idealistic, too romanticized for a man who was supposed to be a wise old professor. He didn’t mind showing it with Erik though, not when his smile turned into something more genuine and he looked at Charles with so fondly, like his desire to help each and every mutant was extraordinary instead of foolish.
“And do you still feel like yourself?” Erik asked softly, a wary curiosity replacing some of the tenderness from before. Except, no, not replacing it, because the concern came from a place of affection as well. Charles knew that all too well, felt it, if in a very different way, for his students and fellow teachers, for Raven.
It would almost be nice, having someone look at him with such care instead of the other way around for once, if Erik wasn’t so right and wrong about everything at the same time. Charles did lose himself to Cerebro, but not in the way Erik seemed to think. He lost all the worst parts of himself, the arrogance and casual cruelty that pushed Raven and Angel and God knew who else away, the loneliness and self-pity that made him want to seek out the bottle like his mother had, the softness and naivety that let people manipulate him, make him their lap dog - And that was and wasn’t his thought, the voice saying the words distorted and ugly. It didn’t matter, not when it was right. Not when Cerebro gave him a few hours of freedom from all of it, let him be a mind free of emotion, free of suffering. “No, that’s the best part of all. I still have consciousness, but there’s a distance from my own emotions, they’re just threads in a much greater tapestry.”
“Pretty words to avoid your own feelings.” Erik murmured with a bit more harshness than Charles thought the conversation warranted. It faded after a second, something almost remorseful to his gaze as he leaned over and pressed a hand out toward him. His fingers were cool where they brushed against the edge of his frayed cardigan. Charles swallowed at the sight, at the way he wished that those calloused hands would touch his skin instead.
“And why would I want to?” Charles asked as he shook his head, grinning playfully in the way he’d done before, when he deflected questions like that with a few jokes and an easy smile. It seemed less effective now, or maybe it just didn’t work as well with Erik, who just gave him a flat look. Still, Erik didn’t pull his hand away, and Charles supposed that was something.
“You’d have to tell me.” Erik said evenly, and his smirk had a weight to it that Charles couldn’t understand, except that he felt like he’d know what that look meant even with his eyes closed. Especially when Erik started brushing little circles into the sensitive skin of his wrist, sending shivers up his spine and making him flush. A strange tension permeated the air and his veins, white hot in his bloodstream. Charles wondered if Erik felt it as well, and the ridiculousness of that made him laugh in spite of himself. Erik gave him a strange look, hand stilling against his wrist but not quite pulling away. “There must be some reason you’re always throwing yourself into your work, not giving yourself time to rest, time to think.”
Charles let out another huff of laughter, some of the tension from before fading as he shot Erik a look of disbelief. Magneto was telling him to take a break, of all people. Charles had seen all of the press about his work from before, the rescue missions that sent student after student to his school, the protests he led across the country and Europe, all the different secret bases and scientific labs he’d destroyed with a flick of his wrist. And that was just what Charles saw before he met Erik. Now he knew he spent hours on strategy and communication with his loose network of allies and spies, searched out new safe houses for his brotherhood and mutants, helped add to the networks that Charles already built. They were a team before they’d even met, in a way, and the thought made something twist in his chest even as he shook with laughter. “That’s a bit rich coming from you.”
“I suppose so.” Erik admitted with a chuckle of his own, rich and warm, filling the room and echoing across the high ceilings. Erik stopped laughing after a moment, the weight from before coming back to his gaze as he pressed his hand down against Charles’ wrist more firmly than before. “You still didn’t answer the question.”
“I suppose I didn’t.” Charles said with a low exhale, because he didn’t enjoy talking about the uglier sides of himself. He supposed no one did, but Charles found it particularly humiliating. He’d built himself up around the idea he was cool and composed, that he was ruled by his mind rather than by his feelings, that he didn’t let himself get overwhelmed or panic or anything else. He’d managed that less and less since Cuba and he had the strange suspicion it was true even before, that something had come along and eroded the walls he’d built around his emotions, where they were quiet and unreachable, safe. Now they were always there just below the surface, threatening to rise to the surface and destroy him. “My emotions aren’t kind, not to myself or others. Better to look toward a future outside of those things.”
Erik narrowed his gaze at him, pressing his lips into a thin line, and for a second he seemed unbearably sad. He shook it off a second later, shooting Charles a bemused look as he tangled their fingers together, much like he had the other day outside. “Then what does this future of yours look like? Surely you have some ideas beyond the school?”
“Not all of us want to be involved in politics anymore than we have to.” Charles told with a small smile, tilting his head to the right a bit. Erik raised an eyebrow at that, something doubtful in his gaze that made Charles bite back a laugh. He wondered why Erik expected so much of him. Everyone else who met him expected very little, either because they met the drunken dilettante from before, or only saw the helpless little professor of the present. Being treated like an equal, like a threat, was oddly thrilling. And maybe a bit closer to the truth, considering all the things Charles could do without even blinking. “But yes, I’ve considered some legislative pathways, a few bribes to the right senators and looked into the minds of the wrong ones here, just to keep the students safe.”
“Safe from what?” Erik bluntly, leaning in and sliding his hands under his chin, sliding his fingers together. There was a brightness to his gaze, akin to hope, discordant with the sharpness of his smile. But then, somehow they looked right together, or at least they did on Erik. His softness was jagged around the edges, but there was also a kindness to his acerbity, or at least there was for Charles. He suspected other men weren’t afforded as much.
Charles couldn’t help rolling his eyes a bit though, because they had this conversation just the other day, and they’d likely have it again and again until one of them changed their mind completely. God forbid it be enough for Erik that he’d put his students first. “From harm. I already told you that if it came down to it, I’m on our side. What more do you want from me?”
“I’m not sure.” Erik said in a way that made it clear he knew exactly what he wanted from Charles, he just didn’t have the words for it. Erik met his gaze steadily, licking his lips and giving Charles a discerning look, dubious and oddly sexy at the same time. “You really think you can change all their minds? Are you really so naive?”
“Or so arrogant?” Charles gave him a half smile, a familiar twinkle in his gaze when Erik blinked owlishly at him, lips pursed. Charles felt oddly proud to have shocked him, to leave him as off-kilter in the same way Erik had left Charles feeling every day since he got here. Granted, Charles’ confusion came from the intensity of his emotions for Erik, the way his little smirks moved him or how hearing his laughter felt like finding a piece of himself that had been torn asunder. Erik’s seemed to come from Charles having any self-awareness, which wasn’t quite the same and suggested Raven had been saying terrible things about him. But it was still better than nothing. Anything was, when it came to Erik. “I was, once.”
“What happened?” Erik said softly, and there was a kindness in his voice that was too close to pity for Charles’ liking. He stiffened, turning his chin up a bit, letting the coldness that was his birthright slide over him like armor. He didn’t need anyone’s kindness. He never had.
“They shot missiles at all of us and me in the back.” Charles rolled his shoulders, not quite meeting Erik’s gaze as he pushed past him and toward the hallway. Erik got up and followed him after a second, thankfully not asking where they were going. He could use a drink, and all of those were either in the study or in the kitchen. He didn’t like reliving what happened in Cuba without one, the way smoke filled the air after the plane crashed, the broken shards of Hank’s work spread out like a monument to their pyrrhic victory. The coin slicing across his skull like it was a knife and he was the butter, the phantom pain still waking him up screaming in the middle of the night all these months later. He didn’t remember who did that, Shaw or one the Russians or maybe even one of their allies, someone who saw Charles as a threat that needed to be put down rather than a friend.
He remembered when their allies, even Moira, started shooting at them for trying to protect themselves, when the bullet hit his spine because Charles hadn’t paid enough attention, had let himself trust the wrong people. Or maybe he hadn’t, but the right people became the wrong people, because Charles said the wrong thing, because he always did and -
Erik took his hand again, squeezing his fingers lightly until Charles’ breath evened out and he came back to himself. If he noticed that it was panic rather than Charles getting lost in his own thoughts, he was kind enough not to say anything. Erik’s expression was hesitant, mouth twisted into a grimace, and Charles swore he saw an echo of his own pain in his eyes, just for a moment. “That’s who you blame for what happened to you?”
“I don’t blame anyone for what happened to me, except myself.” Charles said shortly, because that was the truth, or close enough to it. He was to blame, for trusting that the people who wanted their help would offer them kindness in return, for thinking that stopping Shaw would be enough to change hearts and minds. Instead he’d shown his proteges that the government couldn’t be trusted, that he couldn’t be trusted, not when it counted. He was just as foolish as all the other idealists that came before him. No, Charles had no one to blame but himself, but that didn’t mean he didn’t resent their allies for aiming missiles and bullets at them, didn’t mean he didn’t wake up everyday mourning all the things their anger and their fear had stolen from him. Charles didn’t say any of that though, settling for a kind smile as came to a stop by the kitchen door. “But I’m the one who has to live with the consequences, while they’re off doing God knows what. It makes you think.”
“Yes, I suppose it does.” Erik’s voice was little more than a whisper as he held the door open for Charles, and there was rattling from inside the kitchen. Charles glanced over at him and found there were tears building in the back of Erik’s eyes, but before he could ask what was wrong, he felt Warren screaming in the back of his mind and had to excuse himself. When he got back from getting the mud out of his wings, Erik was gone, no sign of him in the kitchen save for a cup of tea he’d left for Charles.
Erik wondered why he was punishing himself, letting Charles smile excitedly and tell him stories about his childhood Erik already knew by heart, let him explain research he’d read out loud to Erik. Worse was when Charles would start telling a story that Erik had been apart of, Sean falling off the roof instead of being pushed, or the lonely nights on the road trip where he’d let the radio lull him to sleep instead of fucking Erik into the mattress. But he knew why. He needed to understand how they’d gotten here, or more exactly, how Charles had. Erik knew his own fears now, knew where he’d been right and where he’d made missteps. He finally understood his own feelings, at least when it came to Charles.
Charles was a mystery though, so much the same in most things, but different in a way Erik couldn’t find the words for. It wasn’t that he was less - Charles could never be less than what he was, no matter how hard he’d tried - as that he saw himself as such. He enjoyed his life here, teaching his students and helping them through their fears, Erik had no doubts about that. But he was quieter now, more hesitant when it came to his research or giving orders, less willing to guide his students in the way they needed. It was as though he’d left some part of himself behind on the beach, or maybe erased it along with his memories of Erik. Erik wanted to help him find it again, to see those eyes light up with passion the way they used to when he finished a paper or found a new ally for them.
Right now they were in the study, Erik following Charles on his lunch break, though he could hardly call it that, when Charles immediately reached for a pile of papers on his desk and left the food aside. That was different too. Charles was always a hard worker, always held himself to the same high standards that he did everyone else, if not worse ones. But he still knew when to let his mind rest, when to curl up with a good book or to let Erik dote on him in bed. Now his lifestyle seemed devoid of those little comforts he’d loved so much, save that Erik kept forcing them on him. Now was one of those times, Erik sitting on the edge of Charles’ couch and pretending to read.
Charles propped himself up on the couch next to Erik, gaze locked on whatever paper was in front of him and chewing idly on the edge of his pen. Erik had seen that expression countless times before, when Charles was writing about mutations or reading a new book he particularly liked, his entire face lighting up with delight, his focus shrinking down to whatever was on the page in front of him, sometimes so much so that he projected his excitement out to everyone within his range. Erik had always found it endlessly charming, and it was no different now. He watched as Charles shifted slightly, pressing one hand against the couch and the other on his chair, pushing himself onto the seat in one graceful motion. He positioned his leg against the couch, following suit for the other one. Charles leaned against Erik thoughtlessly like he had hundreds of times before, his hair brushing Erik’s chin as he settled against his shoulder and the strong lines of his chest. Charles started to make another note with his pen, only to freeze mid word, biting his lip as he gave Erik a startled look. “Oh! Erik, I’m sorry. I’ll move over to the other side of the couch -”
“It’s fine. Really, you’re not that bony.” Erik assured him with a small smirk, stretching out one arm across his shoulders so that his fingers hung dangerously close to his collarbone. He wasn’t entirely lying. Charles had always been soft and slender before, like all those tragically handsome men from the novels he made Erik read. Now his face still had a touch of softness to it, his body more slender than before in some ways, but also lithe now, his chest and arms layered with sinewy muscle. If he’d been lovely before, now he was even more so, delicate and strong at the same time.
“You seem to take a perverse pleasure in insulting me.” Charles rolled his eyes, and though his voice was playful, Erik thought he sensed an undercurrent of sadness there. It wasn’t the first time Erik had noticed that with Charles since he came back, an uncertainty about himself that Erik couldn’t stand. He’d mocked his arrogance and his vanity before, but seeing Charles without either hurt more than he thought it would. Charles gave him a lopsided smile, glancing at the book he’d stolen from the library curiously. “What are you reading?”
“Tennyson.” Erik said with a small smirk, fingers tracing over a few of his favorite lines. He remembered a time Charles had sat next to him just like this, their bodies pressed together while Charles read out passages of the Idylls of The King, his head eventually finding its way into Erik’s lap. Erik had run his fingers through his hair and let Charles lull him halfway to sleep, his voice twisting around each word reverently. They’d taken turns reading to each other after particularly long days, when they were too wound up to go to sleep but too exhausted for chess or sex just yet. Other times Erik would read and exercise while Charles wrote a paper on genetics, occasionally dragging him away for lunch or a quick break. It seemed like it might be one of those days. “And what about you? Writing some revolutionary paper on genetics?”
“Nothing so illustrious, I’m afraid. Just grading the elementary age students’ math homework.” Charles gave him a wry grin as he held up Scott’s homework for Erik to look at, mostly covered in encouraging comments in Charles’ elegant script, the corrections dotted along the sides. Charles shook his head a bit, smiling crookedly before he set the paper aside to reach for one with the name Anna at the top. “I leave the academia to Hank these days.”
“Why?” Erik asked in a low voice, suspecting that he already knew the answer and wouldn’t like it.
“I fear I’m not the best representation for human-mutant relations, considering the nature of my gifts.” Charles told him with a quick roll of shoulders, and somehow that was better than what Erik had expected. He still didn’t like it, but Charles having conflicted feelings about his own powers wasn’t exactly a surprise. Charles loved them and he still did, that much was clear from how he described getting high off of them on Cerebro. But he also quietly despised them, seeing them as the thing that made his mother not love him and his friends not trust him, that pushed Raven away. His mutation was why the world refused to accept him, no matter how good he tried to be. Charles never understood that it was his world and his mother that had been wrong. Charles’ powers were a part of him, and anyone who didn’t see their beauty didn’t deserve to be a part of his life. “Thank you for convincing Raven otherwise, by the way, but it’s really not necessary.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Erik said with a small shrug, earning a bark of laughter from Charles. He didn’t owe him. Erik had been the one to tell Raven she should accept Charles’ powers, that he’d never go beyond the surface of her mind without permission, that there was no greater love than being a part of the hum in the back of her brother’s mind. But it had still been Raven who changed her mind, who decided to open herself to him, who realized that she and Charles needed to accept each other before they could preach to the masses. They needed to be on the same side, not just in their fight but in their beliefs as well. Protection didn’t stop on the battlefield. “But it is necessary. We have to accept one another, not let them turn us against each other.”
“A very nice message, Erik, but not all of us get to be mutant and proud just because you want us to be.” Charles murmured as he made another note on the student’s page, smiling down fondly at little blue loops of her sixes. Erik watched him make a few more corrections, firm but gentle at the same time, every word encouraging. The girl had written something about her powers, that she’d moved an entire fellow third grader a few feet with her mind, and Charles started writing something on the side, his entire face lighting up. Erik wondered if Charles realized what a hypocrite he was being, how angry he’d be if the world ever made this child feel the way he seemed to right now.
“You were.” Erik whispered before he could think better of it, just loud enough that there was no chance that Charles wouldn’t hear him. He remembered Charles strengthening his and everyone else’s good memories, the way he’d soothe their pain when training went wrong, how he’d send them all snippets of the news, good and bad. All of them who let him, anyway. Erik assumed that had been everyone but Raven, for most of it. Some of it, like when he sent snippets of Erik’s favorite song, the taste of his favorite tea before he woke up, himself spread out naked in the grass waiting for Erik to ravish him, were just for them. All of that had made Charles so happy, so proud of how his gifts could help people and make their lives, his own life, better. Had Charles erased that too?
Charles laughed ruefully, looking down at his glass of water and running his thumb across the edge. He looked almost embarrassed, and that made Erik want to snap every piece of metal in the house in half. The only thing that stopped him was the way Charles looked at him through his eyelashes, coy but still more defeated than Erik would’ve liked. “Well, whatever Raven’s been telling you, that man is dead. She probably wasn’t wrong, I was terribly arrogant just a few years ago. You would’ve despised me.”
“And now?” Erik gave him a flat look, and this time the handles on his antique desk do bend and turn sharp, almost like little daggers pointing at them both. Erik had never despised Charles, not for his wide-eyed arrogance or for when he erased Erik from his memory. The idea that he could made him oddly furious.
“Now I know people won’t follow me the way they follow you.” Charles said as he added a few more notes to the side of Jean’s paper, not even glancing up at the sound of shaking metal. The metal shifted again then, the daggers melting back into handles and doorknobs. The fury was still there, but it had been surpassed by a melancholy disbelief. Charles seemed to mistake it for something else, his body stiffening where he was still pressed against him, his smile a bit tighter than before. “You don’t need to pity me, Erik. Not all of us end up being what we wanted to be.”
“It sounds like you’ve given up on trying.” Erik hissed before he could think better of it, the fury and grief equally strong now. Charles had a dozen teachers who all looked at him adoringly, students who followed his every word like law. No, maybe he wasn’t a leader like Erik was, because Charles wasn’t a warrior unless he had to be, wielded his compassion and his words far more deftly. Charles had said once that what he wanted was to guide the next generation, and now he was, but somewhere between that night in Virginia and now, he’d forgotten that meant just as much as Erik’s war, that he’d once believed it mattered even more.
“A bullet in the spine will do that to a man.” Charles said dryly, but there was a flicker of bitterness in his gaze, of hopelessness, and of course. The beach had stolen so much from them. Time and trust and their memories, and now it had taken Charles’ confidence as well, his faith in himself crumbling just as much as his faith in humanity had. The only thing he still seemed to trust from before was Erik, and the irony made him laugh, sharp and a bit too loud for the quiet intimacy of the study.
Erik shook the laughter off and ignored the bewildered look on Charles’ face, focusing instead on how Charles' lips were pursed, at the yearning in the corner of his eyes. Maybe Charles hadn’t forgotten him, forgotten himself, not in the ways that counted. Maybe he was just waiting for Erik to come back and remind them both, so they could find a way forward together. Or maybe Erik just had to be the optimistic one now that Charles had forgotten how, and the longing in his gaze was just him projecting his own emotions onto Charles. None of that mattered. What mattered was that Charles was wrong. The bullet hadn’t changed anything, hadn’t stolen Charles’ compassion or his brilliance, his passion for science and teaching, not even his arrogance, not really. “It didn’t change who you are.”
“No, but it did make me realize who that was, and I found them wanting.” Charles’ words were clipped and just a touch bitter, his gaze distant and fingers drumming along the edge of his glass. Oh. Of course. Charles didn’t like himself anymore, had turned all the anger and sorrow meant for Erik and humanity inward, where it couldn’t hurt anyone but himself. Except that wasn’t true, not with the way Erik’s stomach dropped at his words or his hands shook, at how all the metal in the room started to twist, a few of the doorknobs snapping off. Charles grabbed his hand, fingers gentle as they pressed against his wrist, his voice soft and confused in a way he had no right to be and every right at the same time. “Erik!”
“I happen to like who you are.” Erik met his gaze steadily as he slid his own hand over Charles, lacing their fingers together. Charles stared back at him, and the look in his eyes made Erik a little sad, made his chest feel heavy. He thought about pulling his hand away, and then thought better. Somehow, he knew if he let go of Charles now, he wouldn’t get him back for a very long time. Not when Charles looked at him like that, hesitant and longing, like his touch was the first good thing he’d felt in months.
“That’s sweet, but you don’t know me very well.” Charles reminded him with an unimpressed stare, shifting himself away from the couch and back to his chair to finish the sandwiches they’d abandoned instead. He let out a delighted chuckle when the knives started spreading the condiments without Charles having to lift a finger.
“Better than you think.” Erik hissed before he could think better of it. Fuck better. Erik wanted to take Charles into his arms and kiss every freckle and scar along his back, to find that place on his neck that made him cry out. Erik wanted to show Charles of how his compassion had saved him and Raven and all of his students, of how much he protected and cared for everyone around him. He wanted them to revel in all of Charles’ lesson plans and papers and little jokes until Charles had no choice but to believe he was as clever as he was kind. Granted, Erik also wanted to scream at Charles for forgetting him and their cause, for being so arrogant and hurting himself so badly, for Charles to shout every recrimination Erik was owed, until there was nothing left for them to fight over. He wanted all of it, every bit of Charles. More than anything, he wanted Charles to look at him and know that Erik meant every word he said, that he did know Charles and that Charles knew him, that they were the same.
Right now though, Erik settled for Charles knowing he liked honey mustard on his chicken sandwiches.
Charles never considered himself a particularly daring man. Brilliant and witty and handsome, in an English sort of way, sure. He even fancied himself rather suave at times, even if Erik did insist he was rubbish when it came to flirting. As if Erik would know. He didn’t flirt with anyone, unless one counted the looks he gave Charles sometimes, like he was thinking about devouring him.
Charles certainly did, which is why he was currently loitering in front of Erik’s hotel room door, hoping that he wasn’t making a fool out of himself. It was one thing to strike out with the wrong person in a hotel bar or at Oxford, easy to shrug off and go their separate ways with no hurt feelings. Erik was different, because Charles had never liked anyone so much in his life. From the moment he’d felt his mind in the water, he’d felt pulled to him and his knowing smirks and rare smiles, the way he argued with Charles about literature and philosophy, how he made sure Charles remembered to stop and eat. If he was wrong, if he lost Erik - well, that was unthinkable, so he wasn’t going to think about it. Not now that he could sense Erik’s mind on the elevator, at any rate.
Erik raised an eyebrow when he took in Charles leaning against the wall by his hotel door, legs crossed at the ankles in a failed attempt to look casual. He looked up at Erik through his eyelashes, lips pursed as he met his gaze across the small expanse of the hallway. He slid his hand around the doorknob, feeling the cool metal against his skin, and tilted his head back toward the door. Erik came to his side and stopped, and there was a hunger to his gaze, a lust that felt almost dangerous. Erik slid a thumb along his bottom lip, the other hand ghosting over the edge of Charles’ sweater, but not quite touching it. Charles brought his own hand up to test against Erik’s chest, fingers spreading out as they dug into the soft material of his turtleneck. “Really, for a telepath you’re not at all subtle.”
“I wasn’t trying to be.” Charles admitted softly, tilting his head to the side and showing off the slender expanse of his neck. Erik leaned over and bit the juncture where his skin met his shoulder, and Charles let out an almost mewling sound he hadn’t known he could make, gripping Erik’s sweater tighter than before. Erik pulled his head back so he could meet his gaze more fully, and then he kissed him hard, one hand sliding through Charles’ hair. He must have unlocked the door at some point, because a second later they were stumbling through it, Erik’s free hand sliding down to squeeze his ass. Charles sighed into the kiss, slowly breaking it so he could press their foreheads together again, feeling strangely daring when he finally met Erik’s gaze. “Now tell me, Erik. What are you going to do with me?”
“Who says I’m going to do anything?” Erik asked as he took a step back, giving Charles an appraising look. He smirked as he took in the mark already blooming on Charles’ neck, a knowingness to his gaze that made him shiver again in spite of himself. He felt the metal in the room vibrate, and the buttons of his sweater and his shirt all came undone, leaving his skin exposed to the cool air of the hotel room. Charles slid both off with one swift moment, letting them pool on the floor. Erik slid his own turtleneck off a second later, tossing it to the floor without a second thought. His skin glowed under the fluorescent lights of the hotel room, every sinewy muscle in his chest on full display. Charles swallowed a few times, feeling less confident than he had a second ago.
“That look in your eye says plenty.” Charles licked his lips, trying to regain his footing in the face of Erik’s lithe body. If Erik noticed he didn’t say anything, just cupped Charles’ cheek with his palm, hand large and warm where he brushed his fingers across his bottom lip. Charles wrapped his lips around Erik’s thumb, twisting his tongue across the callouses there. Erik moaned and any uncertainty Charles felt vanished when he saw his look of unabashed lust. Charles took a few steps back until they weren’t touching anymore and Charles was pressed up against the edge of the bed, wiggling two fingers by his temple. “I could always read your mind, but I’d rather you show me.”
“You’re incorrigible.” Erik murmured with a low sigh and then he was on Charles, pressing him back against the bed, nipping at the skin along his jawline and down the side of his neck. Charles gasped before he could stop himself, throwing his head back and bucking slightly, his own hands finding their way to the button of Erik’s jeans. They slid down and off before he could even manage to get it undone, and he felt his own zipper slide along his hard-on, a strange mixture of pleasure and pain that made him yowl . Charles flushed and Erik gave him a look that was amused and apologetic at the same time, reaching his hands up and tugging Charles’ boxers and slacks down in one easy motion, until they were pooled around his ankles.
“I wasn’t before you.” Charles reminded him in a slightly strangled voice as he tugged Erik’s boxers down over his thighs, sucking in a breath when he caught sight of his cock. Charles licked his lips, running his index finger along one of his veins, and Erik made a choked off noise in the back of his throat. Charles smirked at the sound, letting go to sit on the edge of the bed, smirking up at Erik and gazing at him through half-lidded eyes. Erik watched him for a second and then pushed him down against the sheets, straddling him for a second, hands sliding underneath his ass and squeezing down.
“That’s a lie and we both know it.” Erik whispered into his ear, his words lost to a moan as Charles leaned up, catching his nipple in his mouth and scraping his teeth along the edges. He lost his rhythm when Erik slid a finger inside and then another, fingers rocking back and forth, and Charles winced at the pain until Erik hit a particular spot and Charles cried out, his entire body shaking against the mattress. Erik smirked with the same knowing look he had before, bending over and catching Charles mouth in a kiss at the same time he pressed his fingers up again and -
Charles woke up with a start, pressing his face into his hands, body flushed and eyes screwed shut. That dream had felt entirely too real. Though really, if he was going to have an inappropriate sex dream about one of his houses guests, he’d prefer it take place somewhere nicer than the motel he’d stayed at the night before he recruited Alex. Erik at least deserved a romantic setting, maybe the garden here or by a lake. Something better than stiff sheets and an empty minibar. Charles pulled himself up so he was leaning toward the headboard, closing his eyes. He suspected he’d need a cold shower and a hard workout to get the thought of Erik’s gaze out of his eyes, the feel of his hands on his chest or the way his thumb fit in his mouth —
And that was what he needed to stop thinking about, and Charles sighed as he lifted himself from his bed to his chair in one swift motion. He went through his morning routine, brushing his teeth and shaving by rote, trying to keep his mind on his upcoming classes and the paper he promised to edit for Hank, on the truly disgusting coffee Alex had made the other morning. Anything but the way Erik had looked at him in his dream, like he’d never seen anything better in his entire life.
Charles finished his ice cold shower and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a thin white T-shirt, hoping he could get a good workout in before the rest of the school started waking up. It was Saturday, so there were no classes, just a few training sessions in the afternoon. He had more time on his hands than he liked, time to think about everything he lost and might still lose, about the ghost of someone’s hand on his shoulder or their lips brushing against his own, neither attached to a name or a face.
Charles let out a low exhale when he got to the gym, because someone had turned the temperature up, or maybe the air conditioner was on the fritz again. Charles stripped his T-shirt off, not wanting to risk getting overheated and not realizing it until it was too late, relieved that he couldn’t sense anyone in the gym. It would hardly be appropriate to be shirtless in front of his staff. He pushed his way through the locker room doors, rolling his shoulders a few times, only to look up to see a familiar glint of metal. Oh, this was much worse than one of his fellow teachers being here. Erik’s grey eyes were bright and focused as he did sit-ups, a sheen of sweat highlighting the definition of each lean muscle in his chest. Of course Erik worked out without a shirt. Charles gritted his teeth, smiling stiffly when Erik caught his gaze as he finished his next move. “Erik! I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I’ve been coming to the gym in the mornings. It’s one of the only places where I don’t have to worry about your teachers.” Erik told him with an enigmatic half-smile, rolling to his feet with the easy grace of someone who’d had to run far too many times. Charles couldn’t blame Erik for wanting some time to himself. Most of the staff had gotten used to Erik being there, but there were still wary looks and whispered words filling the air whenever Erik left the room. Alex treating him like a pariah didn’t help matters. Still, things were getting better, the tension between Erik and his staff and older students dissipating more and more each day, the whispers becoming less harsh.
“Right, of course.” Charles said after a beat, smiling crookedly as he gave Erik a once over, even though he knew better. Charles sucked in a breath as he took in his frame, and not just because Erik was all lean muscles and strong shoulders, probably as perfect in his proportions as he was in everything else. The small mole near his right hip was there, along with the crooked scar on the edge of his shoulder blade, a thin line white line Charles remembered tracing with his index finger. Every inch of him was the same, each scar in the right place, every line of his body as familiar to Charles as his own. “Well I’ll leave you to it, then. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your peace and quiet.”
“You wouldn’t be.” Erik told him with a wide smile, sharp and a little dangerous. Suddenly Charles remembered that he wasn’t wearing a shirt either and felt himself flush, hesitantly looking over at Erik. Erik’s gaze lingered over the sinewy muscles of his chest and shoulders, down the slender curves of his waist and back, and finally back up to the graceful lines of his neck. Erik had the same look of unabashed lust he’d had in his dream, like he’d never seen anything quite so perfect.
“As flattering as that is, I prefer working out alone.” Charles’ told him a bit more coyly than he intended, stealing one final look at Erik before heading back toward the locker room. This time he noticed a freckle on the base of Erik’s spine that he was sure he’d kissed before.
*****
Charles raised an eyebrow when he opened the kitchen door to find Raven leaning across the counter, one hand gripping her coffee a little too tightly, the other jabbing Erik in the chest. Erik met his gaze with a lazy smile, tilting his head toward Raven with a raised eyebrow. Raven took a step back and gave Charles a smile far too bright to be natural for her this early in the morning. Clearly they’d been talking about him. He wondered if he should be flattered or insulted, or maybe a little of both. “Raven, I didn’t expect you up so early. I suppose Erik must keep you all on a tighter schedule than I did.”
“That’s just because you like to sleep in for as long as your powers will let you.” Raven told him with a playful grin, one he couldn’t help noticing didn’t reach her eyes. She looked tired, yawning a few times and shooting Erik pointed looks over her shoulder. Charles couldn’t help but feel like he was interrupting something, so he busied himself with making tea and tried to ignore the sensation that he was missing something.
“Maybe.” Charles admitted with a lazy smile, because if it was up to him, he’d wake up to the soft light of the morning warming his skin, the sound of the world humming gently in the back of his mind. Instead most days he woke up before sunrise, either because the children were off playing or because he mind had reached out to soothe someone’s nightmare. It was nice in its own way, the knowledge that his students felt safe enough to run screaming down the hallways, that he could protect all of them, from their nightmares and from his own, from a world that wouldn’t even try to understand them. But Charles had to admit he missed the feel of the sun on his face, of someone else’s arms wrapped around his waist and waking him up with a kiss between his shoulder blades.
Charles suddenly felt sheets pooling around his waist and the bristle of a five o'clock shadow against his cheek, a firm body pressed up against him. Charles heard himself begging for another five minutes, even as he opened his eyes and gazed out the window, the last of the roses by his bedroom window still clinging to life. Except no - Charles had never had a lover in this house. He’d left when he was little more than a child, and when he came back with the CIA there hadn’t been anyone. But then why did Charles remember someone rifling through his grandfather’s antique dresser, his shirts mixed up with Charles’ cardigans? Why did he -
Charles blinked and found that Raven was nowhere in sight, Erik’s hands pressing down on his shoulders, a firm weight that kept him in the present and not lost in a stream of memories, where it was far too easy to lose himself. Erik watched him through a narrowed gaze, his expression pinched, concern radiating off of him. “Charles, are you feeling alright?”
“I’m fine, thank you. I was just - I just got a bit lost, that’s all.” Charles murmured softly, biting his lip and wondering if maybe he should tell Erik, or if not him then Raven or Hank, or well, someone. But what would he even say? That he’d been having dreams of a lover who was a silhouette, dreams that had slowly been creeping into his waking life, a whisper of a hand on his wrist and someone gently mocking him for chewing on the end of all of his pens. It wasn’t real, Charles knew that. No matter how vivid the memories were, this man didn’t have a face. Except lately the specter had a shape, a voice that was more than an echo. But maybe it wasn’t even his ghost, maybe it was a neighbor’s who had a particularly vivid memory or something he’d picked up on Cerebro that had gotten lodged in the back of his mind. “Downside of being a telepath.”
“I imagine there are as many of those as there are benefits.” Erik let out a low exhale, slowly loosening his grip on Charles’ shoulders before he pulled his hands away entirely. The tension in his face only seemed worse than before though, a tightness to his gaze that hadn’t been there a second ago.
“Oh, far more downsides, actually, and that’s before you even take me into account.” Charles gave him a lopsided smile, trying to ease some of the tension in the air. Erik just gave him a flat look in return, the same look Erik had on his face every time he mocked himself, come to think of it. He wondered idly if Erik would’ve liked him more before, when he still thought everything clever and good about him outweighed the bad. Charles let out a huff of laughter at the thought, because how unfair that he’d met Erik now, after he decided that all the best parts of himself were just illusions he’d built up, as easily shattered as a house made of glass? Still, not everything good had left him, not when he had Cerebro and his students. Not when there were so many emotions in the back of his mind, a mosaic only he ever got to see. “But you’d be surprised at how beautiful a mind can be, just from the faintest trace of it.”
“I know plenty.” Erik hissed and there was something furious to his voice, but Charles sensed the sorrow behind the rage, saw it in the curl of Erik’s lip and the mourning in his gaze. It was almost like he’d lost something precious in gaining that knowledge.
“I wouldn’t have thought you let Emma Frost in your mind like that.” Charles murmured softly before he could think better of it, smiling in a way he hoped came across as playful instead of pitiful. Maybe Erik just had a thing for telepaths. Or maybe it was more than that. He’d wondered before if Erik’s heart had been broken, and he wouldn’t blame him if he’d fallen for Emma Frost. He’d only met her a handful of times, but Emma was brilliant and skilled, beautifully ruthless in a way Charles couldn’t help but admire and fear in equal measures. Charles couldn’t quite see Erik and Emma as a couple, despite their dangerous beauty, something about them not quite fitting together in his mind. But then, maybe that was just old-fashioned jealousy. “Are the two of you involved then?”
“She’s not my type.” Erik said in a strained voice, reaching for his tea and draining it all in one go. The set of Erik’s shoulders were more rigid than they had been a moment ago, a sharpness to his gaze that spoke more of hurt than it did of anger. Erik shifted in his chair then, so there was almost no space between them. Erik's breath was warm where it brushed against his cheek. “Besides, we got off on the wrong foot.”
“You can’t make a good first impression on everyone.” Charles teased him, reaching for his own cup of tea when his hand went slack. He remembered skin that wasn’t skin shattering, the wind cool against his face and the sound of Russian echoing through his mind. A dangerous smirk he loved and hated at the same time flashed across his mind, but it was gone before it could find a face, just like all the smiles that came before it. Charles swallowed, gaze softening as he reached over and took Erik’s hand before he could think better of it. “For what it’s worth, you made a good one on me.”
Erik stared at him with a fervor that left no room for words, his emotions flickering so quickly and with so much intensity that Charles felt a bit like he was drowning in them. He tasted saltwater for a second, but it turned back into tea when Erik pulled his hand away. Charles felt oddly bereft, clasping his hands together to keep himself from reaching out for Erik. Erik looked at him then, and this time all Charles saw in his gaze was a quiet affection that made his chest ache. “It’s worth more than you could know.”
“Maybe someday you’ll show me.” Charles gave him a rueful look and pressed one hand against the edge of the helmet, reaching up two fingers to press against his temple.
“Someday.” Erik said with a casualness that made it sound like a given, and Charles sucked in a breath, realizing he’d never wanted anything more, without quite understanding why. Erik saw the look on his face and smiled, wide and genuine, leaning over to brush a hand across the other side of his face. Then he walked away, leaving Charles to do all the dishes.
Erik had let things go too far. He should’ve stopped this charade the first time he noticed Charles getting lost in time, or looking over at him as if he almost remembered him, a knowingness in his gaze that quickly ebbed away into nothingness. But then he could’ve handled that, could’ve lived in quiet misery until the right moment to take the helmet off came if it was just that. But Charles was attracted to him. Erik shouldn’t have been surprised; he had been before, it made sense that he would still feel the same. And Erik hadn’t exactly been subtle with his own interest, stealing glances at Charles across the table and chess board, practically salivating when he saw the new muscles and curves in that familiar pale skin.
But Charles thought every little glance and stolen touch was the beginning of something, whereas for Erik it was something he’d taken for granted, a desire he hadn’t understood the necessity of until he’d lost it. They were playing two different games, and Erik shouldn’t be playing one at all. Not when the cost might be hurting Charles, or seeing those kind blue eyes look at him without affection.
But Erik was only a man at the end of the day, so when Charles had asked him to join him outside after dinner, a familiar spark in his gaze, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to say no.
Erik found Charles waiting for him on the veranda, where they’d shared so many breakfasts and games of chess dozens of times, before Cuba and after, the sameness of it almost eerie. Except tonight was different. The air had a strange quality to it, sensual but suffocating at the same time, making Erik’s shiver as he pushed the kitchen doors open. Charles sat in front of their chess set, idly moving the white king back and forth with the tip of his thumb, biting his lip in concentration. Something about the dim outdoor lights made his skin glow and his eyes even brighter than usual, a gentle kind of handsomeness that drew Erik in like a moth. Charles had set the table with a bottle of red wine that was probably older than both of them, two glasses on either side. “Chess outside with a bottle of wine? Professor, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to seduce me.”
“Hmm, maybe I just missed sitting outside under the stars.” Charles smiled up at him impishly, casting his arms out toward the expanse of the courtyard. Erik took in the seeming endless lines of grass, dotted with ancient trees and carefully cultivated flowers, pristine and beautiful. But Erik noticed there were also wildflowers from where Abigail had run up and down the yard the other day, Charles guiding her so that her favorite flowers all grew the most. Charles looked off into the distance at one of the sunflowers she’d made, smiling softly. “There are still parts of the estate I can’t go to.”
“You didn’t tell me that.” Erik couldn't help the disapproval in his voice, even if he had no right to feel that way. Charles didn’t technically have to tell him anything. But Erik had meant it when he said he wanted to help Charles, to turn his house back into his home. Their home, if Charles would have him, but that day was still a ways off. Right now what mattered was Charles’ comfort and safety, and if Charles was too focused on his students to provide for that, Erik would just have to pick up the slack. Charles had done as much for him once in his own way, so it was only right.
“I didn’t want to force you to stay any longer than you had to.” Charles gazed down at the chess pieces, smile a bit sheepish as he moved one of his pawns. Erik scoffed, rolling his eyes a bit, because he’d said he wanted to stay enough times that even Charles and his newfound uncertainty should’ve believed him. But Charles had taken to his newfound insecurity just as easily as he’d taken to confidence before, seemingly willing to lose himself in both rather than find a middle ground. Charles, as if on cue, looked up at him and bit his bottom lip, gaze more hopeful than doubting. That was the Charles he knew. “Not if you don’t want to.”
“How thoughtful.” Erik tilted his head to the right, not able to keep the amusement out of his gaze. Erik slid into the chair next to Charles, moving it a few inches closer so his arm brushed against his chest when he reached past him for the bottle of wine. Erik smirked when he heard Charles take in a sharp intake of breath, and if Erik let his arm rest against him a bit longer than strictly necessary, he didn’t think anyone would blame him. Not when Charles watched him through his eyelashes, lips pursed and a light flush starting down his neck and disappearing into the collar of his shirt. Erik held his glass up as though in triumph, gaze firm as he let his hand rest alongside Charles’ own on the board. “But I already told you I don’t mind. You’re better company than the Brotherhood, and you haven’t stopped me from doing my work, even when I know you don’t agree with it.”
“You have no idea what I may or may not agree with, Erik.” Charles pressed his glass to his mouth, lips red from the wine and a familiar spark to his gaze, almost like he wanted Erik to call his bluff. Erik just raised an eyebrow and took another sip of his wine, because unfortunately he was all too familiar with what Charles thought. Or he had been, once. He wasn’t so sure anymore. “But yes, I did tell everyone not to bother you, no matter how many mysterious phone calls you make.”
“Why?” Erik asked as he raised an eyebrow, moving one of his pawns across the board. This time his curiosity was genuine, if Charles letting him stay was strategic or sentimental. Magneto and his brotherhood were better as allies than they were as a threat, and any partnership between would only benefit them both. Charles and his students would be protected from any outside threat, and he would get access to Cerebro and the thousands of names Charles had collected over the years. But right now Charles’ gaze was warm and affectionate, fingertips lingering in the warm space where Erik’s hand had been a moment before. Everything about him, from his half-lidded gaze to his wine stained lips, felt like he was propositioning him. But maybe that was all in his head. Maybe Charles looked like an invitation because Erik wanted to be welcomed.
“Because I’m rather selfish, and you’re better company than most people too.” Charles admitted with a helpless roll of his shoulders, smile wide and unabashed, like admitting he wanted Erik was the easiest thing in the world. But Charles never had any problem telling Erik how he felt before, all small touches and secret smiles, the warmth of his love a constant in both of their minds. That at least hadn’t changed.
“I said the Brotherhood, not most people.” Erik coups resist teasing him even though he knew better, grinning wryly as he took a sip of his wine. The Charles of before would’ve rolled his eyes and given him one of those smug, almost impish grins of his, gaze a perfect mixture of disbelief and lazy affection, because they both knew better. That didn’t make the game any less fun, didn’t change how Charles would capture Erik’s mouth in a kiss, sweet ad chaste and promising more to come, if Erik could play nice. And Erik would’ve said something even ruder, just so Charles would kiss him again, his laughter vibrating against both their mouths.
The Charles of now just bit his lip, gaze dropping to his chess pieces, a kind of melancholy feeling in the air. Erik wondered, not for the first time, if the helmet wasn’t quite as effective as Shaw had thought. Or maybe his mind was just more attuned to Charles, their bond surpassing even those things meant to keep them apart. Charles ran his index finger along the side of his knight, before knocking it off of the chess board. Erik didn’t think that counted as a move, but he picked the knight up anyway, moving it to his side of the board and setting it up right. Charles finally met his gaze, something almost apologetic in the curl of his mouth. “My mistake.”
“What happened to all of that fabled Xavier confidence?” Erik let out a mocking little sigh, shaking his head as he ran his fingers along the stem of his wine glass. Charles shot him a sullen look, mouth scowling up at him without any real heat behind it. Erik just shrugged, because coddling Charles when he got into one of his self-pitying moods had never helped before. Maybe that was the real problem, not that Charles was different, but that everyone else here was treating him like he was, like he was something fragile when Charles never could be. Not in the ways that counted. Erik leaned over, not able to stop himself from taking Charles’ hand between his own, from brushing his thumb across the new callouses along his palm. “For the record, you’re the best company I’ve had. I suspect you always will be.”
Charles shivered at his touch, eyes wide and pupils dilated, licking his lips as he leaned in, one hand coming up to rest against Erik’s shoulder. He knew exactly what it meant when Charles pursed his lips like that and tilted his head to the left a little, hands shaking with nervous energy as they came to rest against his chest. The softness in his gaze, like Erik was something good, worthy of someone like Charles, was the same as before. Even the way he didn't quite close his eyes, not until his lips brushed against Erik’s mouth. Erik kissed him back for a second, let his hand find its way to Charles’ hair, let himself feel Charles’ eyelashes flutter against his cheek. He remembered the last time they’d kissed, and - Charles didn’t. The thought was ice water in his veins, and he pulled back, using one had to hold Charles back when he darted toward his mouth again. “Erik -“
“Not like this.” Erik said more harshly than he meant to, narrowing his gaze as he shifted in his seat, so he could breath and not taste the wine on Charles’ lips. If he was going to kiss Charles, he wanted him to know who he was kissing. They both owed each other at least that much.
“Why not?” Charles asked softly, shoulders falling and something defeated to his frame. He glanced over at Erik, his gaze defeated but not surprised, like he’d expected Erik to reject him, and no, he couldn’t allow that. Not when Erik wasn’t rejecting him, never had rejected him. He’d left because he was afraid, afraid of losing Charles, of the pain he’d caused him, of seeing the look on his face when he realized the future he wanted was never coming. But he’d never wanted to leave Charles.
“Because I love you.” Erik said bluntly, pressing his hands under his chin and holding Charles’ gaze. Charles stared back at him with wide eyes, hopeful but also uncertain, one hand reaching out and then curling back in toward himself. He opened his mouth, probably to point out that they’d only known each other for a few weeks, and Erik held his hand up. Then he reached his hands up and pulled the helmet off, setting it down next to his pieces on Charles’ side. Charles bit his lip, letting out a breathless little noise when Erik took his hand between his own, lacing their fingers together. “I love you, Charles.”
“You lied.” Charles’ voice was little more than a whisper, furrowing his brow as though he was confused by his own words. Erik couldn’t help giving him an incredulous look, because it was a little rich for Charles to say he lied when Charles erased him from his memory. Surely that counted as a bigger lie than whatever Erik had said. Charles’ hands were shaking now, recognition coming into his gaze little by little. There was hurt and anger, a guilt Erik didn’t understand and a fear he wished he didn’t. But more than anything, Erik saw and felt his love, so warm and affectionate and desperate it was almost overwhelming. He reached a hand out, but this time it was Charles' turn to jerk back, tears building in the back of his eyes. “Before you put the helmet on, you said it wasn’t that you didn't trust me, but you don’t. You don’t.”
Erik remembered saying it, words lazy and dismissive, maybe a little mean if he thought about it too long. They’d meant nothing in the face of everything else that happened that day, between murdering Shaw and hurting Charles, between the missiles and Moira shooting at them and Charles still not seeing them as the enemy. But it meant more to Charles, meant something Erik had missed. “I didn’t mean -“
“No, no, don’t apologize. You were right.” Charles’ words were strained, bordering on a sob as he turned so he wasn’t facing Erik anymore, pushing his chair toward the kitchen door. His entire frame was shaking now, one hand reaching up to clutch the side of his head. Erik wondered if he was brushing against invisible scars, and then he knew just as quickly that the answer was yes. He could feel Charles, his despair and his love, the confusion that permeated his every movement. The fear Erik was slowly realizing had nothing at all to do with him. Charles shot him one last look at the door, face stained with tears and expression utterly lost. “You should put the helmet back on. Good night, Erik.”
Erik watched him go, not making a move as Charles pushed his way through the kitchen and then down the hallway, his emotions still echoing all around Erik. He waited until he felt Charles’ mind brush against his, hesitant and purposeful, guiding him down the hallway and to his bedroom door.