Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Do you have it set up right?” Hank asks, peering over Sean’s shoulder at the camera.

“Yeah, I do…” Sean’s hands slip, and the camera nearly goes tumbling off of the tripod. It’s ironic, because, out of all of them, he was the first one to use actual camera equipment for his own personal page (@Adventures_With_Banshee), filming his random outings in the flight suit Hank made him with one of those awful GoPro selfie-stick set ups.

Though he did drop and break three of them, so maybe it’s not that much of a surprise he’s fumbling now.

“Can you hurry up already?” Raven whines, sitting on the kitchen counter and eyeing the large, frosting-covered cake next to her. She and Angel have already abandoned the five million fashion magazines they always have for research for their joint page (@MutantFashionWithAngelAndMystique), throwing at least two of them at Hank’s head in the process. Apparently, none of them have any mutant models. At least, none with physical mutations. And, given that mutation-positive fashion is the entire point of their page, the magazines are rendered useless.

“You know if you drop that camera, Hank’s going to actually have a heart attack,” Alex teases. Alex pretty much spends all of his time teasing everyone. The majority of his page (@WreakingHavok37) is pranks, many of which get played on unsuspecting victims like Hank.

“It was perfectly natural for me to assume something was going on when I had shooting pains in my chest!” Hank huffs, glaring at Alex. He doesn’t appreciate his friend’s sense of humor that much, though Alex’s prank videos sent Hank’s modest lifestyle/nerd inventing weird shit vlog (@LifeWithTheBeast) skyrocketing into millions of followers.

Really, Alex tagging all of them in his prank videos at some point was what got them to make their joint page (@FirstClassKids_X) in the first place. Once the internet had realized that all of them, with their seemingly unconnected vlogs, were friends, their followers had been begging for chaotic collaborations. The page quickly went viral, with the joint following from all their different individual pages, and that landed them the gig of being full-time content creators, getting a house together and making a good living right out of highschool.

Charles and Hank are the only two who decided to go to college, attending the local one just a few minutes away from their house. It’s no Oxford, where he’d always planned to go, but Charles finds that he quite likes it. Besides, the entire premise of his own personal page (@ProfessorX), his passion project, is based on his career as a student. He practically has to be in school.

It’s a studying advice page, not only with his own content but with all his followers helping each other out in the comments. It’s wonderful, seeing his peers, students from all over the world, even real teachers, interacting with each other and succeeding in part because of something he created. And, someday, he hopes to be a real professor, degree and everything.

“I think you might spend a little too much time on those medical sites, Hank.” Charles says good-naturedly, “Now, what exactly is going on with the camera?”

“I don’t know, he won’t let me look!” Hank says, and Sean elbows him. Charles laughs, and pushes both of them away, wheeling in front of the tripod to see for himself.

“Boys,” Angel snorts, she and Raven rolling their eyes.

Charles inspects the setup, Hank and Sean crowding to look over his shoulders, “Let’s see here…” The new tripod/camera setup is definitely a bit trickier than their last one, but the general concept still applies. After fumbling around for a few seconds, Charles finds the screw that needs to be tightened to hold the camera in place, and twists it. When he steps back, the camera stays upright.

Everyone except Hank cheers.

“Finally! You guys are so slow.” Raven says.

“I’d like to see you try,” Hank grumbles.

“Okay, sure, I’ll set up next time.” Raven shrugs, and hops down from the counter, bringing the cake over to the table they set up. It’s covered with a yellow and blue tablecloth (their theme colors), with their lighting equipment just outside the frame of the camera. Everyone follows, sitting down, while Charles hangs back to start the camera.

“Are we rolling?” Raven asks.

“We’re rolling!” Charles responds, hurrying over to the table. It’s their trademark exchange at the start of all their group videos.

In front of each of them at the table they have a bundle of pre-prepared pictures on wooden toothpicks, ready to be placed on the empty, undecorated cake one at a time. Each of them had prepared them separately, too, to keep it a surprise.

Angel’s up first, on the right side of the table. “Okay, hear me out… Hiccup from How To Train Your Dragon.”

Everyone bursts into laughter.

“That’s not a hear me out!” Raven protests, “He’s cute!”

“No, that’s definitely a hear me out,” Alex says, “He’s a cartoon character!”

“Have you never had a crush on a cartoon character?” Angel giggles.

“No!”

“Wow. What was your childhood?”

“Whatever!” Alex rolls his eyes, and takes one of his stakes and puts it on the cake.

They go around in a circle for a few rounds, laughing at some of the worst hear me outs (including the number 11, the color orange, and the pythagorean theorem).

Charles takes a deep breath, picking up his last hear me out. This was the one he actually cared about – his real celebrity crush.

“Hear me out,” He says, placing it on the cake. “Erik Lehnsherr.”

Immediately the table erupts into laughter.

“Magneto? Really, Charles?” Alex says, grinning like it's a joke.

“Isn’t he an extremist?” Hank says, frowning disapprovingly.

“He’s just passionate!” Charles defends, feeling his face flush from something that could be embarrassment, but almost feels more like protectiveness. “The media paints him in a bad light! And he only encourages… unruly behavior, let’s say, as self-defense! It’s not like he’s going around saying, ‘hey, mutants, let’s start a war against the humans!’”

“Yet,” Hank says darkly.

“And on that note,” Raven says, picking up her last, “Hear me out: Erik Lehnsherr.” She sinks the toothpick into the cake right next to Charles’s. Coincidentally, they both chose the same picture, that one floating around on Pinterest that has him smiling (a rare sight), dressed in a magenta “mutant and proud” t-shirt.

It’s a very handsome picture.

Hank gapes at the siblings. “You’re crazy, both of you!”

“Guess bad taste runs in families,” Sean giggles.

“We’re not biologically related, idiot!” Raven says, rolling her eyes.

Her dad had married Charles’s mom when they were both super young, so they’d grown up referring to themselves as brother and sister, but technically they were half-siblings.

“Nurture versus nature,” Hank breathes. He still looks shocked, and the mumbling makes him seem a little maniacal. Though that’s… not new for Hank.

Raven reaches across the table and shoves him. “Respect the hot-ness of Erik Lehnsherr. Charles agrees, tons of people online agree!”

“And we always listen to them,” Alex grumbles.

“They’re the reason we’re doing this video,” Angel points out.

“Look, Magneto’s hot, it’s decided, can we move on?” Charles groans.

“Yeah, let’s eat the cake now!” Sean exclaims.

Everyone chimes in with agreement. Hank runs to get something to cut the cake.

“Now, please tell me we’re going to cut out that entire portion of the video,” Charles says.

“Sure, Charles.” Raven says, sharing a conspiratorial glance with Angel (the two of them are the main video editors for their group page). Charles sighs, resting his head in his hands and knowing his fate is sealed. The entire internet will know about his crush now.

Yay.

Three things, about Erik Lehnsherr:

He’s young, first off. Charles feels like his crush is entirely justified, since Erik’s only two years older than him. Less than two, actually, if you count the months. It’s not like having a celebrity crush on some actor who’s old and married and maybe even divorced a few times.

He’s also smart. Incredibly so. He speaks five different languages, and he speaks intelligently. Sure, he’s a little blunt, but all of his points make sense and are entirely thought through; Charles is sure that he’s going to make a great defense lawyer someday, which is what Erik’s going to school for.

That’s the last thing, school. Erik’s local, going to the other college across town. Dreaming up some far-fetched fantasy about dating a celebrity isn't actually so wild when Charles could, very plausibly, run into said celebrity around town.

And that’s why Charles spits out his tea when he sees the notification on his phone:

Chapter Text

Erik overthinks the comment from the second he hits send. Is it too sarcastic? Does he sound like a total dick? Is the “darling” thing too forward? Awkward? Cheezy? He’d meant to come off as confident and witty, though the more he stares at the text on his screen, curled up in bed and awake at four AM, the more he’s sure he’s neither of those things.

Maybe he should’ve said “bro.” That would’ve sounded more casual, more open. Who even says the word “darling” anymore?

Most of the time he doesn’t care much about other people’s impression of him, but this is different. This is Charles Xavier. This is Professor X. He was shocked when he realized Charles Xavier even knew who he was. The whole group of them, the First Class Kids, are mutants, but that’s never a guarantee that someone knows who he is. Out of all of them, Raven and Angel were the likely bets, since they attended some of the same protests as him and did more mutant’s rights centric things on their joint page.

But Charles? It’s not like he denies being a mutant, he’s got “mutant and proud” written in his description, but he just doesn’t really acknowledge it unless directly asked. Erik just figured that he didn’t follow mutant’s rights that closely, especially since he doesn’t have a physical mutation like his sister.

But, apparently, he does. And he thinks that Erik’s hot.

Crazy.

Erik’s been following Charles Xavier from his own private page (@ErikML89, god forbid the internet ever figures that out. His profile picture isn’t him, just to be safe) since before he even started posting content. Before he was Magneto. He remembers back when Charles’s page only had a couple hundred followers and he was able to respond to each comment personally. Erik still has a screenshot in his phone somewhere from when Charles wrote back an answer to a comment he made. He has one of his sweatshirts too, the ones with the X-shaped crest that looks like college merch.

His best (and only) friend Emma teases him about it relentlessly, especially since she’s one of the two people in the world who know he’s gay (he would’ve preferred that number to stay one, his mother, but he supposes that’s what he gets for making friends with a telepath).

At least now he has some ammunition to fire back at her.

“He said I was hot!” Erik says, then cringes at how juvenile he sounds. Like a middle schooler having his first crush.

They’re sitting at their favorite mutant-owned cafe, of which Erik is personally responsible for the opening of, staging a protest when the landlord wanted to deny the couple who runs it a contract. Eventually, the man was getting so much hate and people boycotting the other stores in the mall that he was all but forced to cave. It’s Erik’s favorite accomplishment, even if it doesn’t seem like something that big. But he loves seeing the employees, all mutants, forming such a nice community, between each other and their mutant patrons, even if he prefers to watch from afar.

Plus, they make delicious coffee.

“Really, sugar?” Emma says skeptically, though something in her face makes it known to Erik that she’s purposefully egging him on. She’s probably seen the video already.

Like the idiot that he is, he lets her, pulling out his phone and opening his TikTok to his saved videos.

“Magneto? Really, Charles?” Havok laughs.

“Isn’t he an extremist?” The blue science guy seems hell-bent on proving that liking Erik is bad taste, something that makes Emma laugh and Erik flush in embarrassment, annoyingly enough.

“He’s just passionate! The media paints him in a bad light! And he only encourages… unruly behavior, let’s say, as self-defense! It’s not like he’s going around saying, ‘hey, mutants, let’s start a war against the humans!’”

Charles sounds almost protective of him, something that makes his heart race in a way that he will never, ever admit. And while everything he’s saying is technically true… Well, personally, Erik wouldn’t mind starting a war against the humans. It’s obvious who would win, and so far all efforts to coexist are still failing. They simply can’t be trusted.

“He didn’t say you were hot,” Emma points out, the video continuing to play as she speaks. “Just his sister.”

“Hang on, it’s at the end.” Erik says, once again feeling like an idiot. Here he is, waiting for the exasperated words of a man that he’s never met from a video that he’s watched an unfortunate amount of times.

“Look, Magneto’s hot, it’s decided, can we move on?”

“See?” Erik says, smirking in triumph and shutting off the video as it begins to loop. “I told you so!”

“You did,” Emma says, tone even. She takes a sip of her coffee, eyeing him over the rim of the mug. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

“I, uh, wrote back in the comments,” Erik admits, pulling up the video again and pushing the phone across the table to Emma.

So far, his comment has lots of replies and a like from the @FirstClassKids_X page, but nothing from Charles. He’s not sure if that’s relieving or disappointing.

Emma reads the comment, then clicks on the replies, smirking a little bit before handing his phone back. “Do you want my opinion?” She asks.

“I figure you’re going to tell me anyway,” Erik grumbles. Though, to be completely honest, Emma’s blunt honesty is why they get along so well – he appreciates her straightforwardness. It’s easier for him to read; social interaction has never been his strong suit.

“Don’t be so nervous, sugar. It’s a good comment.”

“But…?”

“...But you sound a little bit like one of those male protagonists in romance novels. You know, the scary ones who have a rivalry with the main character and then end up making out with them during a fight scene in chapter ten.”

Erik groans. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

He really should’ve used “bro.” It’s not like he’s going to somehow end up dating Charles Xavier, so he could’ve just friendzoned him and kept any and all speculation off of his sexuality.

“It’s pretty close,” Emma admits. Erik sinks deeper into his chair, taking a few big gulps of his coffee and hoping the drink will calm him down somehow. Though… that’s the opposite of what coffee does. Maybe he should’ve ordered tea for this conversation.

He’s having quite a few regrets today.

“Look, I doubt anyone’s going to think anything of it.” Emma says, probably hearing some of his worries.

“It’s the internet, people are always thinking. And talking. And reading too much into things.”

“Yes, and everyone knows that. And people know what you’re like, sugar.”

“What am I like?”

“Dramatic,” Emma responds, and glares at him when he scoffs, “You argue people on the internet for a living, sugar. Can’t tell me that’s not dramatic. But the whole ‘darling’ thing? It’s in character for you.”

Meaning, that if a few people call him gay, the rest of the internet will ignore it. Hopefully.

It’s not that Erik didn’t want people to know. At first the only reason only Emma and his mother knew was because he just never really had a reason to mention it.

When he started to get into activism, he realized that fighting for everything else that he could be discriminated against, his sexuality, his ethnicity, would just drain him completely. So he stuck to mutant rights, which was easier, in a way. It was a new fight. There was no proof that they couldn’t win it quickly.

And he’s gone along with not mentioning being queer for so long that, if he did, he’d just seem like a complete hypocrite. The internet, every news outlet, and each pissed-off politician would eat him alive.

He’s never explained this to Emma, but she knows. Either she’s read it from his thoughts or she just figured it out on her own, but it’s something that, for all her teasing, she’ll support him on. She knows what his childhood was like – and she gets why Erik doesn’t want to get hurt again.

“Thank you, Emma.” Erik says begrudgingly.

Emma smirks, “A ‘thank you’ from Erik Lehnsherr? I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“Moment’s over. Get it out of your system, I’ve got class in thirty minutes.”

That evening, Erik’s sitting down at his desk to study for a bit when he realizes he’s gotten a response. His heart starts pounding in his chest as he shakily opens up the app.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe he didn’t even mention me!” Raven bemoans, stiffly pushing at the clothes in her closet as she searches for some new outfit idea (one that Charles knows she’ll never find. That will take a shopping trip that can be stretched into at least three videos).

“Well, I was there first.” Charles sighs, scrubbing at his face with his hands. He’s been sprawled out on the pastel pink couch in Raven and Angel’s shared room for the past hour. It’s been about twelve since he wrote back to Magneto, and he still hasn’t gotten a response. His phone sits on his chest, and every few minutes he swears it buzzes, and then he checks it and nothing has come through.

“He isn’t even gay!” Raven continues her rant. A pair of jeans goes flying onto the bed, arcing just above Charles’s head.

“Maybe he is.” Charles says, absentmindedly checking his phone, even though there was no buzz. Maybe he turned his notifications off somehow?

Raven scoffs, “He would’ve mentioned that a long time ago if he was.”

“Maybe he just didn’t feel like telling anyone. He’s very private.”

“God, you really do like him, don’t you?” Raven says, voice halfway between frustrated and teasing.

“I’d say that’s a well established fact.” Charles grumbles. He should’ve never put that picture on the cake. He should’ve stuck to Adam Driver and the quadratic formula. Now he has a headache, an obsession with checking his phone, and one very annoying Raven to deal with.

She turns to look down at him, then shifts her form, stretching and rippling into the slightly taller Erik Lehnsherr. An Erik Lehnsherr who’s smirking and wearing that goddamn magenta t-shirt that’s just a little too tight in the shoulders.

“Hello, darling.” She says, in a perfect imitation of the man’s voice. Charles, in spite of himself, feels his face flush, and immediately feels disgusted with himself.

“Honestly, Raven. You’re my sister, I’d prefer you didn’t do that.” He says, pushing himself up from the couch and transferring back to his wheelchair. He needs to go find some better company – he has no clue why he thought talking to Raven about any of this would be remotely helpful.

“What, change into hot guys?” Raven asks, shifting from Erik to the male persona she made herself a while back: Ravi, a broad-shouldered man with wavy blonde hair and high cheekbones. Really, he’s just a more chiseled, buff version of her so-called “human” form, the one she wore up until her sophomore year of high school.

Charles huffs, “You know exactly what I mean,” and begins to wheel out of the room. Ravi rolls his eyes at him, then begins to follow him out of the room. “Why’re you following me?” Charles asks.

“Well, I haven’t done a dude look in a while. Maybe I could take a look in your closet?” Ravi says, and there’s a hopeful edge to his annoyingly deep voice.

“Never shift into Erik again, and you’ve got a deal.”

“Fine.” Ravi concedes.

An hour later, long after Ravi came and left, complaining about Charles’s lack of fashion sense (but still stealing a few items from his closet), Charles is in the middle of proof-reading a paper for one of his classes when his phone gives a telltale buzz.

Immediately, he grabs for the device, feeling his heart pound in his chest. It’s irrational, he knows, to hope that something could come from this (Like Raven said, Erik’s never talked about his sexuality before, which usually defaults a person to straight). But something about that first comment… It was witty, and confident, and just the tiniest bit enraging, and it was everything he could’ve expected and more from a response from Magneto himself.

Charles can’t tell if he feels even more annoyed or if he wants to break out into a grin. Some silly little voice in his head is actually teasing the other man, the man that he’s never even met. Poor Erik Lehnsherr, it says, Can’t even bring himself to have a little hope, after everything he’s accomplished.

That same voice wonders what would happen if Charles said that to his face, maybe stroking away a few stray locks of hair from the other man’s forehead, to which he’d respond with that equally charming and patronizing smirk of his. The thought makes him blush, even in the (relative) privacy of his own room.

It’s that thought that lingers in the back of his mind as he crafts his response, paper for class long forgotten.

Chapter Text

“Did you see his fucking response?” Erik fumes over the phone to Emma. He called her in a panic as soon as he saw Professor X’s reply. “Did you see it?”

It’s frustrating. Completely, annoyingly, infuriating. And the worst part is, Erik can’t stop fixating on the word “darling.” He can hear it in Professor X’s voice, in that British accent.

“Now, darling…”

It’s frightening the effect seven letters on a screen is having on him.

“Yes, sugar, I saw it. Half the internet has.”

Erik feels his heart drop to his stomach, “Are they talking?”

“They’re talking. But it’s mostly one-sided right now, talking about Xavier’s crush on you.”

”Okay, good… That’s good.” Erik breathes a sigh of relief. But, somehow, some small little part of him, probably the part of him that has a giant crush on Xavier, is almost… disappointed. Like it might’ve just been easier to have the truth come out now.

He’s always known that, to have the life that he wants, he won’t be able to stay closeted forever. His mom might not mind him being gay, but she’s certainly hoping that he’ll get married somewhere down the line. And if he never dates, that’ll never happen.

It’s just a matter of time, but there’s always been the possibility that, down the line, he’d be out of the limelight, and it’ll be less of a shitshow.

“Listen, sugar…” Emma hesitates, breathing the only noise coming through the phone, “…I don’t think you should continue this.”

“What?”

“Just let Xavier have the last word! Make a compromise, ‘agree to disagree,’ and just stop! People might not be talking yet, but if you two keep at this, they will be.”

“Emma, I can’t! Did you see what he said?”

“He complimented you, sugar.”

“But-he-but-!” Erik sputters, “He’s wrong! There’s not peace! Maybe for rich, entitled assholes like him, but there’s mutant kids being abused across the world! Being forced out of school! Bullied! Harassed!”

“I know, sugar,” Emma’s usually placid voice is quiet now. She does know. “Look, Erik, it’s your call. That’s just what I think would be best for you, right now. Elections are coming up, you’ve got two protests scheduled. You can’t afford to give those politicians any ammunition right now, especially with the Mutant Registration Act on the ballot.”

Erik suppresses a groan. She’s right. She’s always right. There’s too much at stake right now to risk his image over a silly crush.

But, damn, he wants Xavier to know just how wrong he is. He wants to argue this, he wants to make him see what’s really happening in the world, he wants to kiss that stupid, charming smile right off of his face-

Erik pushes that thought out of his mind, and concedes. “Alright. I’ll… compromise. At least on the public forum.”

He can hear Emma’s approval in her voice, “Good choice, sugar. ‘Agree to disagree,’ just say that. Call me if you need any more help.”

“I will. Thank you, really.”

“Of course, Erik.”

Erik feels like a fraud as he types this. If this was any other situation, he’d argue for days.

If he’s judged Charles Xavier right, so would he.

As Erik sends the comment, an idea begins to form…

Chapter Text

“Hi!” On-screen Charles greets the camera with a wide smile, “I’m Charles Xavier; would you like some breakfast?”

Real-life Charles, sitting on the living room couch along with everyone else, groans. “Honestly, you had to put my most awkward take in there?”

“I hate to break it to you, but that was your least awkward take,” Angel says, pausing the video.

“Guess you’re not as smooth as you thought, huh?” Raven jokes, elbowing him.

The video begins to play again, and Charles figures he doesn’t need to come up with a response to that.

They’ve been living in their own house, something bought with their combined salaries and quite a bit of Charles and Raven’s money, for nearly a year; yet, they’ve never posted a full tour, even though their followers have been begging for it.

The video they’re reviewing right now is a good start, a forty second mass of editing that has everyone quickly introducing different rooms in the house, which, after weeks of deliberation, they decided to call the “X Mansion.” It’ll get posted to TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube shorts, while a longer, less heavily edited, unscripted tour will be uploaded to regular YouTube in a few days.

Right as on-screen Alex shoves on-screen Sean off the roof and into the pool, Charles hears his phone buzz. Pretty much everyone in the room shoots him a death glare, just daring him to pick it up an face the consequences. He doesn’t. Editing Time is sacred in their household; phones may be allowed at movie night, the kitchen table, and just about any other place or occasion, but Editing Time requires everyone’s undivided attention.

Then it buzzes again ten seconds later.

“Dude, silence your phone.” Alex says.

“Sorry, yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” Charles pulls out his phone… and gapes at the alerts.

@TheRealMagneto messaged you

Not “replied to your comment” or “mentioned you.”

“Messaged you.”

“What? What is it?” Raven asks, seeing his face.

“N-Nothing!” He says quickly, heart pounding in his chest.

“I trust you’ll keep this in confidence.”

Aka, Raven and her gossiping tendencies probably shouldn’t know about this.

“Who’s texting you?” She replies, a mischievous smirk on her face as she tries to grab his phone.

He wrenches away from her, nearly falling off of the couch. “Nobody!”

“Aw, you’re blushing! C’mon, who is it?”

“Nobody!” He shouts, shoving his phone back in his pocket and transferring back into his wheelchair. “Look, I'm only in the beginning of the video anyway, my edit’s fine, I don’t want a reshoot, I have to… deal with something. Excuse me.”

“What the fuck was that?” He hears Sean laugh as he leaves, everyone giggling along with him. Sighing, Charles wheels himself faster, relieved when he reaches his room and he can close the door for some privacy.

Now he can look at this properly.

Magneto’s tone is formal. Intelligent. Diplomatic, even, which is shocking coming from him, though due to the latter part of the message, “I trust you’ll keep this in confidence,” he was probably trying not to make a fuss in case Charles didn’t agree to keeping whatever conversation this may turn out to be private.

Really, Charles isn’t surprised Magneto disagrees with him; he’d expected as much. Magneto always puts up a fight, with just about anyone. But he is surprised that he decided to message him directly, instead of making a public counterargument.

“…In the best interest of both our images.” What was wrong with their images? Erik Lehnsherr was the king of explosive online arguments. What could make this any different?

It occurs to Charles that, perhaps, the other man just has something so shockingly unkind to say to him that he didn’t want to say it publicly. Though, Charles didn’t really say much… If anything, he complimented him…

Charles decides that he’s deliberated enough, and types a quick response.

It only takes Magneto a few seconds to reply.

Charles shakes his head, grinning a little in spite of himself.

There’s a pause. He’s typing.

Now Charles actually laughs out loud. He was expecting a bit more of a verbose argument, not a simple denial. He hesitates for a second, thinking, then decides to risk it.

Lmao. That all you got, darling?

Another, longer pause.

Charles breathes another laugh, feeling his heart begin to pound in his ears again.

An astronomically long pause. So long that Charles wonders if he’s taken it a little too far this time. He drafts another message, bringing them back around to the original topic of conversation.

Chapter Text

Erik stares blankly at his phone. He can vaguely hear his heart pounding in his ears, his face flushing, but the words on his screen have frozen him in place.

He wants to scream. And to break something. And to yell in Xavier’s stupid, stuck-up face until he realizes how fucking wrong he is and to kiss him senseless and muss up his stupid perfect hair-

Erik shakes his head as soon as those thoughts start happening, trying to shut them down before he does something stupid and invites Professor X to coffee.

And there’s that little voice in the back of his head, telling him that he should.

He starts pressing buttons on the keyboard, unsure of what he’s saying. Some lame response, surely. He doesn’t send it, just stares at it. Then deletes it. Then stares some more.

“I’m going to bed,” His mother’s voice breaks him out of his stupor. “Do you need anything?” Edie looks at him, and narrows her eyes. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

Erik shakes his head, knowing she won’t believe him. Honestly, it’s like she’s a telepath sometimes.

As expected, she comes over and sits next to him on the couch. “Did that awful new bill pass?”

He sighs, shaking his head again. “No, it’s not… that.” Though that’s probably what he should be worrying about right now; he’s got a protest in two days, one in two weeks and another about a month out.

“Is it that cute professor boy who made that video about you?”

“Mama!” Erik exclaims, but knows his expression has already given him away. Where anyone else would call him stone-faced, his mother knows how to read him. At times, it’s helpful.

This isn’t one of those times.

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll stay out of it.” Edie smiles at him, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. “Goodnight, mein Sohn.”

It hits him sometimes, especially now that he’s almost out of college, how much older his mother looks than she did in his childhood. Her brown-ish, auburn-ish hair, once the same shade as Erik’s, is slowly graying, and there’s a map of smile lines across her face that were never quite so prominent before. He can’t tell if he’s glad that they’ve both made it, that they’re alive to look older, or saddened by the weariness of his mother’s appearance. She’d probably look a great deal younger without the stress of dealing with him…

“Goodnight, Mama.” Erik says. As soon as she leaves the room, he turns his attention back to his screen.

In the end, we’re all a part of mankind, and we’re all on this earth together.

What the fuck is he supposed to say to that? He does a quick google search, looking for some of those science-y explanations that he’s read to jog his memory. Carefully, he chooses some facts, and regurgitates the information in a hopefully-intelligent-sounding way.

Erik feels real, actual disappointment settle into his chest.

Chapter Text

Charles isn’t quite sure how it happened, but he now messages with Erik Lehnsherr, Magneto, on a daily basis.

For the first week or so, their conversations stayed in the realm of things related to mutations, though Charles found himself flirting (hopelessly, awfully, clumsily) to lighten the mood. Erik never called him “darling” again, but he didn’t seem to mind Charles’s bad jokes and innuendos and pet names. Eventually, in the subsequent weeks, things began to stray to more personal matters; Charles finds himself knowing that Erik’s favorite color is purple, that he hates his class with Professor Stryker, he likes Star Wars but has been hard-pressed to find time to keep up with all the new shows, and he’s trying to learn Japanese right now and Doulingo keeps threatening him with knife emojis.

“Who are you texting?” Raven hisses, leaning over to glance at his phone screen. Despite her attempts to keep her voice quiet during the movie, everyone in the room is quite clearly paying attention now.

Charles hugs the phone against his chest, shifting away from his sister. “No one!”

“Ah, it’s Mystery Man again.” She smirks at him. He flips her off, heat rising in his face.

“You should just ask him out already,” Alex says, very helpfully.

“Yeah!” Angel agrees, “He can’t say no to you! You’re kind of rich and kind of famous!”

“Trust me, he definitely can say no,” Charles sighs. He still hasn’t had any direct indicators that Erik’s anything but straight. Asking him out would just be embarrassing, running the risk of ruining their newfound rapport; he gets to flirt with Erik Lehnsherr on a daily basis.

And even if he’s never going to get to kiss him senseless, he can at least protect their current correspondence. It’s the closest he’ll ever get.

Everyone in the room rolls their eyes at his response.

“Okay, lover boy. Live in denial.” Angel sighs.

“I will, in fact,” Charles says, “I’ll live in denial that my friends are complete arseholes. You're all lucky to have such a kind and understanding soul like me around.”

Hank and Alex both choke out a laugh.

“Buuuurrrrn!” Sean hoots. Angel gives him a look, then sticks up both her middle fingers at him. Sean does the same in response, and the whole room dissolves into laughter, Charles’s correspondence thankfully forgotten.

It was twenty three minutes later during some grand prison break scene when Charles realized, with a start, that Erik had agreed with him about Chase Stokes being hot.

Which could mean absolutely nothing. There was a thing called “being objective” that Erik could be practicing.

But on the other hand…

Charles doesn’t see the end of the movie. His eyes might be fixed on the screen, but his mind is a million miles away, obsessing over four letters on his screen.

“Yeah.” What a lovely word.

Chapter Text

Emma’s staring at him pityingly.

“What?” He snaps, forcing his expression back to normal (also known as his resting bitch face) and putting away his phone.

“You’re down bad,” Emma says, smirking and sipping her hot chocolate with a cool air of superiority. “I mean, I knew you had a crush on him, but this…”

“I’m not,” Erik blusters, trying to hide his blush with his own coffee cup. They’re doing homework in the café, sitting in the comfortable armchairs tucked in the furthermost nook. Technically, it’s a space for four people, but the place is uncrowded this late at night so he doesn’t feel guilty about jeopardizing all of the chairs and the squat little table with their books and backpacks. “I like him… a normal amount.”

“You don’t like anybody, which makes you grinning like an idiot particularly significant.”

“How do you even know I was talking to him? I could be smiling at something else.”

Emma waves a hand at him. “Please, sugar, you had your shark-face on the whole time, and I’m a telepath. You’ve got no hope with that kind of combination.”

Erik groans, and takes another sip of his coffee, half wishing it was something a little stronger. He doesn’t drink much, unlike most of the other idiots at the school, but this isn’t a conversation he wants to have sober. Or at all.

“When are you finally going to give in and ask him out?”

Erik just about spits out his coffee. “Emma, I can’t! You of all people should know that. You were the one telling me to get off the public discussion with him – can you imagine what a date would do to my image?”

“Mm… Fighting publicly, on the internet, where everything you say is easily viewable and able to be scrutinized, is different from going out to coffee with someone who could very well just be a friend, and staying away from other people,” Emma points out, “And I hate to break it to you, sugar, but not everyone cares about mutant politics or study groups. Away from your target audience, a little tiny first date might not even be that big of a deal…”

Annoyingly, there’s a flare of hope in Erik’s chest. He tries to tamp it down as quickly as possible. “You’re fickle, Emma,” He sighs, trying to muster up his usually boundless frustration, “You’re fickle and manipulative.”

It was not that long ago she was trying to change his mind on even contacting Charles; he can’t begin to figure out what might’ve changed.

“Why, thank you,” Emma grins at him, “I do try my best.”

“I thought you were trying to keep me from ruining my life?”

“Just online. Real life’s not nearly as serious.”

“That’s backwards.”

“Sign of the times, sugar. We’re the generation that uses “skibidi” on a daily basis, I’d say a lot of things are backwards.”

“Never, ever say that word again, and I’ll consider the date.”

“Deal.”

The conversation fizzles out, and Emma watches as Erik returns to his textbook.

She could hear him earlier, wondering why she was pushing him now after trying to get him to cut off the comment war with Xavier. If he’d asked, she might’ve told him that she saw how happy talking to the man had made him, and that might be worth more than his “image.”

Emma likes Erik. A lot, actually. Despite appearances, he’s actually a pretty nice guy, and he gets what she’s gone through, since he’s gone through much worse himself. But that means she has to worry about him sometimes; she’s moved on with life, she’s got lots of other friends, but as far as she knows, she’s Erik’s only, which isn’t quite… normal. He’s always thinking about politics, too, nearly chronically online or studying or at a protest. And he’s hostile at best, bordering on violent at worst.

Talking to Professor X might be the one thing that she knows will unfailingly make him smile. And that’s good for him.

After everything Erik’s gone through, he deserves a little normal.

Erik’s been thinking about what Emma said since last night.

His morning classes have come and gone, passing in a haze that may or may not be filled with daydream scenarios of a perfect first date. Coffee (but Charles likes tea, right? Tea, then). Or dinner (does Charles like Italian? Though, who doesn’t like italian?). Maybe a movie (is there anything out?).

Maybe they’re less like daydreams, more logistical sorting of ideas. But, in any case, it gets him thinking. And that thinking might be dangerous, but maybe, just maybe, he’s having a hard time caring about that.

So, while he’s standing in line for lunch at the student union, he types up a message, hopes that he doesn't sound embarrassingly awkward, and hits send.

Chapter Text

Charles may be panicking.

Just a little.

Okay, a lot.

Erik’s message comes right in the middle of them filming a new video, which means everyone is there to see him react to something on his phone.

“Dude, you good?” Sean asks when he gasps, having the kindness to look a little concerned for his friend.

“Oh, um, yes, Sean, thank you, I’m-I’m, yes, I’m fine,” Charles stammers, continuing to stare at the words on his screen. Coffee/tea. This Saturday.

Raven snorts and rolls her eyes, grumbling something about “Mystery Man” from behind the camera. “Are you going to be able to finish this, or are we going to have to delay?”

“No, no, no, I’m perfectly able,” Charles assures her, putting his phone back in his pocket and trying to push any thoughts of Erik and his message out of his mind.

Filming won’t take long, if he can get a good shot. It’s his last one, after all, and he just has one line. Two minutes.

Two minutes. That’s how long until he’s able to properly worry about this.

“To me, my X-Men!” He says, trying to summon the gravitas that the line requires.

“Cut. That was fucking terrible.” Raven says flatly. “Do it again, and stop thinking about whatever you’re thinking about. You look nervous.”

Charles sighs and pushes his glasses back up his nose. “To me, my X-Men!”

“Nope. Again.”

“To me, my X-men!”

“Why are you sweating? Do it again.”

“To me, my X-men.”

“Are you even trying? C’mon, make this one good.”

“To me, my X-men.”

“Charles!”

“To. Me. My. X. Men.”

“Jeez, okay, tell us how you really feel.”

“Raven!” He whines. “Honestly, I’m not doing that bad. I do this for a living! One of those has to work!” He feels a flare of annoyance upon seeing Raven’s reaction, her mouth twisting like she’s just barely keeping a smile off of her face. “...You’ve just been messing with me, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, the second take was actually pretty good. You can go freak out about whatever Mystery Man sent you now,” Raven waves her hand, dismissing him and turning to talk to the other guys. “Okay, Hank, you’re next, just go stand… hm… maybe by the tree? Little bit of, like, a nature vibe for you?”

“Which direction did I come from in the other shot?”

“Oh, that’s right… um… okay, maybe we can have you hang from the balcony? Would you be up for that?”

Charles wheels himself back into the house, opting to go straight to his room instead of lingering around on the first floor like he normally would (The first floor is their filming space, with french doors opening up to the backyard). The two-story house wasn’t their first choice, but it ended up being the only thing that was available in their price range (someday, when his mother inevitably drinks herself to death, he’ll inherit the rest of the family wealth he grew up with, but until that day comes they still have to stick to a budget), so he’s had to make do.

They did some renovations when they first moved in – ramps for the porch, a wheelchair lift for the stairs, some modifications to parts of the kitchen and the pool. And, while Raven and Angel share the master bedroom, he got the one other (slightly smaller, but that’s not really an issue) room that has an attached bathroom, and opted for renovating the shower as well. Unfortunately, that renovation took away the money they had allotted to putting in an elevator — hence the current wheelchair lift.

Normally, he barely even notices it at all. But today it couldn’t be slower, when all he wants to do is shut himself in his room and figure out how to reply to this message.

Is he actually asking me out or is he straight: the saga, Charles thinks to himself, trying to imagine what kind of video he could make out of this (he knows he’s brainrotted. It comes with the territory).

If it wasn’t for the fact that Erik asked to keep their correspondence and, well, the fact that Erik might see it, he probably would’ve already made a video about all of this. The nice thing about the internet is that people know more than he does. Like, there could be some FBI interrogator out there who could take a look at Erik’s messages and tell Charles whether or not he’s interested, or something like that.

Actually…

That’s an awful plan. Don’t do that.

Finally, he’s up the stairs. He wheels himself to his room, shutting the door and going to his desk. He transfers to his desk chair (the comfiest, most supportive one he could find upon moving in) and takes out his phone to re read the message.

Once.

Twice.

Three-Five-Eleven times.

Well, I might as well say “yes,” he decides. Date or not, speaking with Erik Lehnsherr in person? Too good an opportunity to pass up.

Charles decides to get some studying done while waiting for Erik to respond — though it’s not a long wait. Thirty seconds after opening his textbook, his phone beeps.

Chapter Text

“This is a violation.” Erik grumbles, arms crossed over his chest as he glowers at Emma.

“A fashion violation?” Emma shoots back from where she’s rooting around in his closet. “Yes, I believe it is, sugar. Why do you only own turtlenecks?”

“They’re comfortable.”

“No. You’re just a diva.”

“Aren’t divas supposed to be fashionable?”

“Shh. I’m focusing.” (She’s wrong and just doesn’t want to admit it).

Finally, she turns away, holding a pair of his jeans (navy) and a turtleneck (black). “Okay. Wear this with your leather jacket. Absolutely not the tan one. Why would you think that?”

“I wear that every day!” Erik exclaims, insulted.

“Yes, you do. And it’ll be better with the black.” She shoves the clothes at him. “Now, sugar, go change.”

Grumbling, he complies.

In the bathroom, he takes a comb to his hair, slicking it back with a little gel. He smiles at himself in the mirror, then grimaces. Deranged shark. Ugh, if that’s what Charles thinks of him-

“He won’t!” Emma calls. “You look fine.”

“Emma, please stop looking at me through my eyes, it’s alarming.” Erik sighs, and tries to put up some mental shields like she taught him to.

“I thought you supported telepath rights?” Even her voice sounds like it’s smirking.

“Hey, if I’m shielding, you don’t have to. I support them just fine.” Erik grumbles, but exits the bathroom and goes back down the hall where Emma’s waiting for him, perched gracefully on his desk.

“I think you’re ready, sugar.” She says, giving him a little smile.

Erik nods.

He should be moving to leave.

“It’s going to be good.” Emma promises, sensing his nerves, “And if it isn’t, you can tell me ‘I told you so.’”

“Thanks,” Erik rolls his eyes, but he knows that his insincere tone won’t actually affect the sentiment at all. Emma knows that he’s grateful.

This time, he manages to depart, grabbing the black jacket, yelling at Emma to lock the front door when she leaves, and starting on his brisk walk to Krakoa Kafe.

Charles looks around the café in awe. It’s beautiful. The walls are lined with dark, wooden shelves, laden with old books. Leather armchairs are sandwiched into nooks, with squat tables made of the same wood accompanying them. Lights hang from the ceiling, round, futuristic-looking orbs, dangling over sleek gray countertops.

Best of all, however, is the fact that nearly all of it is covered in beautiful growing vines. They spill from the bookcases, from planters on the walls, pots on the floor, crawling over everything and sprouting beautiful pink blooms, freckled with purple and boasting golden stamen, delicate and lovely. The whole place feels as though a sci-fi spaceship had a child with a Victorian library, then decided to let some nature spirit kidnap the baby.

“Hey,” A voice says from behind him. Charles feels his heart hammer suddenly against his ribcage; it’s the voice from the news. It’s Magneto’s voice.

It’s Erik.

“Hello!” Charles greets him with a smile, hopefully a charming one.

“Have you gotten anything yet?” Erik gestures at the counter.

“No, I was waiting for you to order. I figured you could tell me what’s good here.”

They get in line together, making small talk about school and the freezing winter weather. When it’s their turn to order, the cashier, a girl with a physical mutation (antlers), greets Erik warmly and by name, asking if he wants “the usual.” He nods, and the attention turns to Charles.

Normally, he would order some kind of tea, but he’s been staring at the menu for a while now and the hot chocolate, made with real chocolate and whipping cream, sounds interesting.

Erik raises an eyebrow at his choice. His real-life smirk is simultaneously exactly the way Charles imagined it when they would message and a hundred times better.

“Shut up, Erik. It looks good.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Erik shrugs, still smirking.

Charles rolls his eyes good-naturedly and slides his card over to antlers-girl, paying for both their drinks before Erik can protest. As a form of revenge, obviously.

Once their drinks have arrived (the hot chocolate is every bit as decadent as Charles expected) Charles spots a table for two that has a chess set built into it.

“Oh, I haven’t played chess in ages!” He exclaims, setting his drink down on the table. “Do you play?”

“It’s been a while for me, too.” Erik says, sitting down. “Want to go a round?”

“Sure,” Charles grins, pushing the chair over a little bit so he can transfer into it. Soon enough, they’ve started a game.

And, soon enough, politics inevitably comes up. In the form of the Mutant Registration Act.

“Well, I do get why the government would want to keep track of some of the more… volatile mutations.” Charles’s voice sounds far too mild for the words he’s saying.

Erik feels anger flare up in his chest in a hot wave, “It’s an invasion of privacy!”

“I’m not saying I agree-”

“Oh, you’re not?”

“No, I just said that I get where they’re coming from.”

“You realize that you would be on that list, right?” Erik exclaims, probably a little too loudly. People are looking over at them now, but he can’t even bring himself to care. “All telepaths! And probably some of your friends, too. Raven? Absolutely. Alex? All they’re thinking about is the damage he could do, with no regards for the fact that mutants are real people with real lives! If someone finds the list, they know all of the most powerful mutants in the country! Where they live, what their powers are!”

“I’m not condoning-!”

“Imagine what they might use that information for! Imagine the innocent lives that could be lost!”

“Erik!”

“No, Charles, you have to understand-!”

“Erik!” Charles repears, voice urgent. He gestures to the chess set…

…Which is now completely ruined. And the table and chairs are a little bent, too. Oh, god, Charles’s chair.

Erik curses under his breath – the café has gone deadly silent, everyone’s attention on him and Charles. He’s sure he sees a few phones out, recording.

He sits down, quickly straightening out the metal. He doesn’t even remember standing up.

Both he and Charles are breathing heavy, faces flushed from the fight. Charles looks stunning, a few loose strands falling over his forehead, his blue eyes even more prominent against the red of his cheeks. Erik tries not to stare at them, his gaze somehow trailing to the man’s lips.

Which is a hundred times worse. His mind goes off on a tangent, noting their fullness, their redness, how they’re puckered in annoyance, wondering what it would be like to kiss those lips and to have them against his skin and-

No. He cannot be thinking this in front of a telepath.

“It’s fine,” Charles says, seemingly not having heard Erik’s thoughts about him and his stupid red lips. “But perhaps we shouldn’t have these kinds of conversations where there’s public property to be damaged, hm?”

Erik finds himself choking out a laugh. “You’re… That may be the one thing you’re actually right about.”

Charles rolls his eyes, and begins to wheel away. “Come on.”

It doesn’t take Erik even a split second to decide. He follows him.

Charles’s car is right out front. He unlocks it, then motions for Erik to get in. He does. Charles transfers into the driver’s seat, folding his wheelchair in next to him, and starts the car.

For the entirety of the two-minute drive, they don’t speak. Erik watches Charles using the hand controls for the car with curiosity, as the radio blares quietly in the background (whatever station Charles has it set to is terrible, in Erik’s opinion).

“Here we are,” Charles says quietly, pulling up in front of what Erik recognizes to be the “X-Mansion.”

While it’s hardly an actual mansion, the two-story baby-blue house is bigger and nicer than anything Erik’s ever lived in. When they head through the front door, the first floor doesn’t even have any walls to create separate rooms, outlining just how huge the house really is. Through french doors, he can make out the giant backyard and the pool.

Nobody’s around, thankfully. It’s possibly a miracle, considering Charles has five roommates.

“This is where you film, right?” He asks Charles, noticing the tripods scattered about and some beanbag chairs he recognizes.

“Mostly, yes. For group videos, at least.” Charles confirms, then grins, “I still can’t believe the mutant-extremist Magneto watches our silly TikTok videos.”

“Oh, shut up,” Erik says, but the corner of his lips tugs up in a half-smile. “It’s not my fault you’re good at your job.”

“Was that a compliment?”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Come on,” Charles chuckles, and they head to the stairs.

“Sorry, this might take me a moment…” Charles mumbles, gesturing at the lift.

Erik shakes his head, “Don’t apologize. Do you want me to walk with you, or should I wait for you at the top of the stairs?”

“Top of the stairs is fine.” Charles shrugs.

It does take a minute, a minute in which Erik goes over the entirety of their date(?) and all the truly amazing ways he fucked up, all the while praying his mental shields are intact. Charles does not need to know the extent of Erik’s worries.

They make their way down the hall together. It’s silent, save for the hum of the heater. They reach a nondescript door at the end, only differentiated from the others by a sign that says “Charles’s Room.”

Charles opens it and ushers Erik inside, following suit.

The door clicks shut.

“Sit anywhere you like,” Charles breaks the silence, wheeling himself over to his bed and transferring to it from his chair, sitting himself against the wall like it’s a couch. Erik opts for the desk chair right across from him, sitting on it backward and propping his arms up against the back.

He’s seen Charles’s room in videos before, but it looks different in person. It’s not quite as large as he thought, nor quite as organized. The usually clear desk is covered in open textbooks and loose papers, and there’s a ring-light tripod propped up in one corner of the room, long cord spilling out over the floor. There’s also many more houseplants than were shown in his videos, hanging in pots and growing from baskets. The whole room feels cozy and lived-in and uniquely Charles.

“Erik,” Charles begins, and immediately Erik feels the tone of the room shift to something more serious. “I want to begin by saying that, as a telepath, I do my utmost to respect everyone’s privacy. On occasion, however, especially during… heated moments, people have a tendency to thought-project without meaning to.”

Erik feels his heart stutter in his chest, a sneaking suspicion of where this is headed coming over him.

Charles flushes a little bit, “I… overheard your thoughts at the café. About… me. I’m sorry, truly, I am, I never would’ve gone looking by myself, but I think with the argument-”

“Charles, can you, um, shut up, for a second?” Erik asks, balling his hands into fists and trying to stop all the metal his senses could reach from trembling. Okay. He might be panicking a little. How does he handle this?

Charles nods, shutting his mouth and looking away from Erik, as though that gives him some privacy.

Erik takes a deep breath, just like he’s taught himself to. Calm his mind, calm his powers, stay in control.

And don’t make a fool of himself in front of the hot telepath.

“I want to say, as a mutant, I respect telepaths and your powers,” Erik begins the same way Charles did, hoping that if there’s one time that he can be eloquent enough to get his emotions through to someone, that this is that time.

“I believe that ‘mutant and proud’ is for you, too, and in a perfect world you wouldn’t have to restrain your powers for the comfort of others. I’m friends with another telepath, and I’ve seen the side effects of shielding, and I can’t say that it seems pleasant.” Erik thinks of Emma’s migraines, some of the only times he’s ever seen her as anything but perfectly confident and put-together. Then, unwillingly, his mind pictures Charles, downing aspirin and drawing the shades same as her, and it’s enough to make his hands ball up into fists again.

“I’m not… angry that you heard those thoughts. If anything, if things were… different, I’d probably have told you up front how I- How I feel.” Erik takes a deep breath, “I’m gay, and I’ve known for years. But I never mentioned it at the beginning of my career, and now with that awful bill and the election coming up, all those politicians… they’d only use it to hurt me, my reputation, if it got out.”

“‘In the best interest of both our images,’” Charles says, eyes wide, and Erik recognizes the words of the first message he ever sent to the other man. “You know, I spent ages wondering what was wrong with our images. But you- you just didn’t want to be outed, yeah?”

“Yeah…” Erik says, standing up with a sigh. He needs to move right now. The room may be small, but pacing it still makes him feel a little better. “And, Charles, it’s not that I’m not… proud, of my sexuality, or anything, but I just-”

“Erik,” Charles’s voice is soft, “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Really. Thank you for trusting me with this. And if… if me talking to you complicates things, I completely understand-”

“No.” Erik shakes his head firmly, “Charles, I… Even if you don’t feel the same, I can’t give up this… friendship, of ours. Before you, I had a total of one friend. Two, if you count my mother. And you and I, we speak the same language, we… I don’t know. You know. At least, I think so. Right?”

Fuck, he’s actually sweating right now. He sounds like the most awkward person in the entire world.

“I do know,” Charles says slowly, “But… Erik, whatever gave you the idea that I didn’t feel the same way?”

Erik stops pacing, and blinks at the other man. “What?” He manages to say.

“Our introduction to each other was me calling you hot.” Charles points out.

“Yes, but I thought that was just-”

“I call you ‘darling’ two or three times a conversation.”

“And that wasn’t just-?”

“Erik, no. It wasn’t,” Charles meets his gaze, and his eyes are piercingly intense. “I’ve followed your work for years. When we first moved in, I had one of those silly posters people on Etsy were making of you right above my desk. Just ask any of my friends – you’ve been my celebrity crush since high school.”

Erik just stares at him, until Charles leans forward, reaching out a hand and pulling Erik close to him.

“I get it, if you don’t want this right now. I’m happy to be your friend. But just know that, if something’s stopping you, it’s not me.”

All Erik can feel is the pounding of his heart in his chest and Charles’s fingers intertwined with his and all he can see is his lips and his eyes and those cute little itty-bitty freckles across his face and all he knows is that he wants this more than he’s ever wanted anything, ever.

Fuck his image, “Can I kiss you?” He blurts out before he can talk himself out of it.

Charles’s eyes widen in surprise, but he nods, pulling Erik down on the bed with him and pressing their lips together and just like that it’s perfect.

Charles hums against Erik’s mouth, pushing himself back so he’s positioned against his pillows and his headboard instead of the wall. Erik follows, propped up over the other man on his hands and knees, practically glued to his lips.

This and this and this and this. Charles. Oh, god, Charles. Expertly moving his jaw, tilting his head, nipping at Erik and making him gasp. His touch sears lines into Erik’s skin, even through his clothes, as he traces his way from Erik’s neck to his hips.

Perfect. Divine. Every adjective that Erik can think of for Charles floods his mind – and he wouldn’t be surprised if it’s flooding the telepath’s mind too. So amazing, Charles. Beautiful. Smart.

Charles chuckles against his lips, and then his hands flit under the hem of Erik’s turtleneck, and it’s only for a second but suddenly he feels-

…Scared.

He flinches, involuntarily, and immediately Charles pulls away, eyes glazed with concern and confusion. “Erik?”

He’s gripped with a sudden urgency, that feeling that he needs to run or to punch something. Instead, he settles for scrambling off of Charles and retreating to the end of the bed.

“Erik, are you alright?” Charles asks.

Erik feels his face flush with shame and embarrassment. Honestly, who does that? Stops a makeout session because they’re scared of taking their shirt off?

He takes a deep breath, “Charles, I think… I think I need to… tell you something…” Reaching out with his senses, he begins to fiddle with a paperclip over on Charles’s desk. Hopefully, he won’t notice.

Charles nods at him, still looking confused and concerned, but somehow also open and inviting. Like Erik could tell him anything, and he’d still show him kindness. It’s that impression that gives him the resolve to continue.

“I, well, when I was younger, I was…” Erik trails off, trying to figure out how to explain it.

“Would it be easier if you just… showed me?” Charles asks hesitantly, waving his fingers near his head.

Erik nods, and steels himself. Whenever Emma goes deeper than his surface thoughts he can feel it, a strange coldness, a sharpness, (maybe due to her secondary mutation) that isn’t painful but doesn’t really feel natural.

Charles presses two fingers to his temple, eyes fluttering shut, and a warm sensation creeps into Erik’s mind.

Charles’s mental presence, evidently, is nothing like Emma’s.

How should I…?

Just… think what you want me to see, and I’ll see it.

So Erik does.

Chapter Text

“This is Edie,”

Quickly, his mom’s smile begins to fade as whoever’s on the other end of the phone starts talking. By the time she hangs up, her face is expressionless, carefully kept devoid of emotion. It’s a look Erik’s seen before, and it always makes his stomach sink. He knows what it means.

“The school… has asked you not to come back,” She sighs.

Erik nods. He’d expected as much.

It wasn’t his fault, really – Jeremy had been the one to punch him – but Erik was the one who accidentally ripped all the lockers in the hallway out of the walls and caused thousands of dollars of property damage.

At his last school, he’d destroyed a science lab when his experiment started to blow up in his face.

The time before that, someone had destroyed that big, metal, modern-art knockoff looking piece in the school courtyard. It hadn’t been him, but his powers fit the description, so he was blamed.

The first time, well… that had been his fault. There had been one teacher, this crotchety old man, who was pretty much all the bad things, racist and sexist and homophobic and anti-mutant, and not to mention a complete asshole. After he gave Erik detention for lifting a pen (just a pen. A fucking, tiny, pen.) with his powers, Erik had made the unfortunate decision to figure out where the man lived. He then proceeded to spray paint “mutant and proud” on his car and “the human right to shut the fuck up” on his garage door and was caught doing so on their Ring doorbell.

Yeah. That hadn’t gone well. And Mr. Evans didn’t even get fired for being a bigot.

“I’m sorry, Mama.” Erik says quietly. Despite everything, he actually likes school. Not the people, most of the time, but the actual act of learning is satisfying in a way that other things aren’t. It’s hard but rewarding, like running (Maybe his new school will actually have a track team). And he never wants to ruin things for his mother, even though that seems to happen whether he tries or not.

Edie just nods, offering a tired smile. They’ve pretty much been nomads since Erik’s father and his sister Ruth passed away (years ago), between finding affordable places to live and his many expulsions. “It’s not your fault, mein sohn.” She says, coming over to squeeze him in a hug. “We’ll take the week off, and then we’ll try to get you in another school.”

Erik nods.

“It’s nice to meet you in person, Edie.” The man smiles as he shakes her hand, then turns his attention to Erik. “And you must be Erik. It’s nice to meet you as well.”

Erik shakes his hand too, though something about this man feels… off, to him, in a way he can’t explain. Something in his smile is a little too bright, maybe, his voice too polished to be genuine, his office a perfectly manufactured feeling of cozy.

“Thank you so much for seeing us, Mr. Shaw,” Edie says.

“Of course! Our community is for every mutant in need of a home,” He flashes that too-bright grin again, “And please, call me Sebastian.”

Erik’s actually pretty sure his mom blushes. She holds at rapt attention while Shaw speaks, though Erik’s mind begins to wander…

Edie doesn’t seem to pick up on any of the vibes Erik’s getting from this man, to the point where he begins to wonder if he’s imagining things. The many, many school counselors he’s been forced to meet with over the years have identified time and time again his “distrust of authority figures.”

“You can have a room in the main house, or you can take a modular home just down the road, which is a little more private,” Shaw’s explaining, and Erik forces himself to tune back in. “We’ve got a great school, with some very good teachers. There’s also training for mutant powers held every day, in the main building, to help foster the great potential of our youth.”

By the time the meeting is over, Erik and Edie are all set to occupy a modular home in two days. Shaw’s handshake with Edie lasts just a little too long this time. Erik feels a crawling sensation on his spine, and is glad to leave the man’s office.

Hopefully, he won’t see much of him around the compound.

It’s a year after Shaw and Edie have been married when Erik starts to realize how wrong things really are.

At first, he actually found himself enjoying life in the compound, with an almost entirely mutant school, help controlling his outbursts, and more stability than he’s had since he was seven years old, even though Shaw and his mom’s swift courtship had been… annoying, to say the least.

But there were things that were off. The way some of the teachers and other students and even whole families would just suddenly disappear. The big concrete building on the edge of the compound where private trainings are held (and sometimes people don’t ever come back out). The way Shaw was revered, talked about in hushed tones and capitalized-sounding pronouns. Like a god.

Or, Erik thinks, like a cult leader.

It’s his first time doing one-on-one training with Shaw – supposedly a great honor.

Oh, how wrong that is.

There’s rope, binding Erik to a plastic table. Everything’s gone a little fuzzy – Shaw gave him a cup of tea when he first got here – before he realized what was really going on – that must’ve had something in it, and since then he’s been injected with other things (and also stripped bare – something that he’s trying and failing not to worry about). Things that have dulled his senses and kept him from feeling the metal in the room as anything but a slight ache.

“Now, Erik…” Shaw holds a scalpel in his hand, inspecting it like it holds the answers to all the questions in the universe, “Your gift is truly extraordinary. But you lack control. Without control, how can you truly wield your power? If you can’t wield it, do you even have power at all?”

The blade makes its first mark - a line running horizontally across Erik’s chest, cutting through the surface of muscle and the soft skin of his nipples. A guttural scream rips from his lips.

“You must learn control,” Shaw chides. Another cut. Another scream.

Erik can feel the metal piercing his flesh, even if he can’t control it. He begs the scalpel, the universe, even god (who he hasn’t really believed in since sixth grade) for some semblance of control. Fuck, he just wants control. He just wants the pain to stop and the fuzziness in his head muting his gift to go away. He wants to gouge the tool into Shaw’s forehead.

The next cut (on his stomach), the scalpel twitches in Shaw’s grasp.

The man smiles, sickeningly. “Very good, Erik. You’re making progress.”

After five more incisions, Erik manages to crumple the blade just enough to render it useless. Shaw praises him, patting his shoulder as though his hands aren’t covered in Erik’s blood.

Someone bandages him up, and he’s sent back home.

For months, the torture is just during his so-called private trainings. He learns to wield his gifts even with inhibitors on or with “cures” in his system. He learns to follow Shaw’s orders, to never try to hurt the man or to resist, to at least pretend to revere him like everyone else does. To fear him.

He steels himself and hides the pain away, because his mother is finally happy. After years and years of her sacrificing everything for him, she’s finally happy. Besides, she’s not a mutant. Shaw has no reason to hurt her.

Then little things begin to happen around the house. Shaw hits Erik on the occasion, always when Edie is gone, only when Erik says something wrong. And as much as he hates Shaw, he has to allow it. Him and his mom, they’re finally safe and away from the humans, a little pain is a fair price to pay. Right?

And his powers have gotten stronger.

But then Edie begins to question things. Why doesn’t Erik want to go swimming? (He doesn’t want her or anyone else to see what’s become of him). Where did that bruise on his cheek come from? (Shaw, while she was at work). Why did she find a giant, half-empty bottle of Advil in his room? (Even his threshold for pain isn’t always high enough). Why doesn’t he want to go out to dinner with her and Sebastian? (Because he can barely look the man in the eye without wanting to puke).

And then, one day, she catches Shaw in the act (Kitchen knife. Erik’s shoulder), and all hell breaks loose. Shaw’s yelling, Edie’s somewhere between terrified and enraged, and Erik…

Erik feels numb. Blood seeps into his sweatshirt sleeve, where Shaw cut him through the fabric. His heart beats in his ears. The clock on the wall ticks. All the metal in the room is singing.

The kitchen knife stabs Shaw, and he and Edie run. Out of the compound, out into town. She calls the police. She hugs Erik. She apologizes.

He’s not mad at her (she couldn’t have known). He’s just numb.

When the government shuts down Shaw’s compound and five other institutions the man had created, Erik can’t even bring himself to feel happy about it.

Chapter Text

“It… It took me a little while to turn things around,” Erik rasps. His face is wet, but he doesn’t remember starting to cry. “But eventually I decided I wanted to go to college, start a career… My mom really encouraged me to use my voice, because she knew that I didn’t want anyone else to have to… go through what I did. And I’ve… mostly made peace with it. It’s just… the scars…”

“Oh, Erik,” Charles whispers, and when he looks up he can see that the other man is crying too, blue eyes red-rimmed and somehow even more vibrant. “I’m so sorry.”

Erik just nods. He’s forever going to be affected by what Shaw did. No amount of apologies, from anyone, will ever change the ugly scars that have mutilated his body or absolve his deep-rooted trust issues.

Charles knows.

“I’m not going to pressure you,” he says, meeting Erik’s gaze with a promise in his eyes, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with for my sake. I just want you to feel safe, Erik.”

He nods again, fidgeting with the edge of his turtleneck. Suddenly, the feeling of the tight fabric against his skin is suffocating. “I don’t… I don’t want him to take this from me too.” He admits, and before he can change his mind he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor.

Charles’s eyes take in the raised marks across Erik’s stomach, chest, and shoulders. There’s no judgement in his face, just the simple act of seeing and understanding. He might even be blushing a little, Erik notes, feeling… proud?

“I suppose I should warn you as well…” Charles says after a second, beginning to unbutton his own shirt and giving a halfhearted half-smirk, half-grimace.

He tosses his own shirt to the floor, and it’s not obvious at a first glance, but then he shifts, turning so Erik can see his back…

There’s long, thin scars running vertically from the base of his spine, along with more oddly-shaped ones, arranged in loose line-shapes across his back and shoulders.

“What…?” Erik begins to ask, then trails off in shock, catching a glimpse of Charles’s bare forearms. Across his wrists and all the way up to his elbows are more scars – a type Erik recognizes with a sinking feeling in his chest.

“My stepfather was not a kind man,” Charles says quietly, “He… would hit me, often, throughout the time I spent living at home. I was very unhappy there. Then, when I was seventeen, I… came out to my family. Kurt was drunk by the time dinner was over, and ended up beating me with a golf club… causing my scars and my… spine injury.”

Erik clenches his fists, anger flaring in his chest. He remembers when Charles got hurt, years ago; he’d suddenly just disappeared from the internet, no videos for two weeks. Then came a simple post, just a black screen with text on it, saying that he’d had a serious accident and would be taking some time off, but would be back. Erik had always figured the “accident” had been some sort of car crash or something to that effect. Not this. Never this.

“Raven and I had already discussed moving out, since we were getting income from our videos. After my… recovery, we began to discuss the possibility with our friends, due to the success of the first class page. Hank and Alex and I were already eighteen, so it was feasible.”

“I… I’m sorry, Charles,” Erik says. The words don’t feel like enough. They’re not enough. Nothing he says or does will be able to take this pain from Charles, the same way Charles can’t do anything about his past.

“Like you, Erik, I’ve mostly made my peace with it,” Charles gives him a small smile. “I know what it’s like, too, to have to spend some time figuring things out. I was a wreck after it happened. I started drinking. I stopped getting out of bed in the morning. I didn’t… want to live anymore. I didn’t think I could.”

“What changed?”

“There was this teacher of mine, Mr. Howlett, though we just called him Logan,” Charles shakes his head, like he’s recalling a funny memory, “Raven managed to drag me to school one day, and I was having an awful time at it. I was being, well, less than enthusiastic, let’s say, about participating in class, and afterwards he pulled me aside and said ‘listen here, you little shit’ and gave me a surprisingly heartfelt speech about hope. It really snapped me out of the haze I’d been living in.” He shrugs, “And while I’m not particularly glad any of it happened, I feel incredibly lucky to be where I’ve ended up,” One corner of his lips lifts in a smirk, “It has landed me here with you, after all.”

Erik gives a soft chuckle, scooching forward a little. Charles reaches out a hand towards him, and he takes it, clasping their fingers together.

“Are you okay?” Charles asks him. Erik looks… emotional, to say the very least. “I know that was a lot.”

Erik nods. “I’m good. Are you?”

“Just fine, love, thank you,” Charles says, then extends his other hand, close to Erik’s face.

Erik moves slowly, timidly, until his cheek brushes against Charles’s fingers. He leans into the touch, and Charles guides him closer until their noses are just about to touch.

“Charles…” Erik looks at him, his mental energy a mess of frustration and desire, his expression unsure, his lips parted and his eyes gazing into Charles’s soul. It’s a dizzying combination.

“Erik. You can kiss me.” Charles whispers. “It’s okay.” You’re safe.

And he does.

Erik’s more tentative than the first time, kissing him softly at first. Slowly. Lightly. Charles smiles against his lips, running his hand across Erik’s back. He can feel the ridges and bumps of his scars, so similar to his own.

Erik’s mental energy is practically throwing itself at Charles right now. It would be so easy to slip into his head, to revel in the beauty of his mind… Charles tries to shake away the thought. Even with all of Erik’s earlier words, the way he laid the deepest, most personal parts of his mind bare, he’s not sure he’s ready for that kind of intimacy, something so intrusive to another person. Instead, he focuses on what’s happening right here right now, in front of him. Or, well, slightly on top of him. Erik.

Gradually, he seems to become a little more confident, his mouth trailing across Charles’s jaw, neck, collarbone.

“You’re hot as hell,” Erik mumbles, mouth where Charles’s chin meets his earlobe, “Did I ever tell you that?”

Charles laughs aloud, “No, I think you forgot to mention that.”

He pulls Erik back by the shoulders, wrapping his arms around his neck and pressing their lips together again. Erik gasps into his mouth, and Charles can feel Erik’s heart pounding against his own chest. It’s an intoxicating sensation.

“Looks like I can take your breath away,” Charles smirks when they part, noting Erik’s panting.

Erik rolls his eyes and scoffs, “You flatter yourself, Charles.” His voice isn’t even, no matter how much he tries to hide it, and his eyes are looking back at Charles with an unmistakable hunger.

“Oh, really? Do I?” Charles traces just the very tips of his fingers across Erik’s jaw, triumphant as he sees the other man’s shoulders shudder with a sharp intake of breath.

“Yes, you-” The end of Erik’s sentence is lost in a groan as Charles bites at his neck, all of the fight and denial draining right out of the man.

Charles grins.

Oh, Erik.

“I have no ideas. Do you have any?” Raven asks, flopping onto her bed with a sigh. She’s been rooting through their closet for… What? An hour? Maybe longer…

“Ideas? No,” Angel responds with an equally mournful sigh, sitting on her own bed across the room, painting her nails. “I guess we could go shopping again? That might be, like, a little repetitive, though. Oh, hey, you know, maybe we could start a thing with raiding the boys’ closets, since the video with Charles’s clothes went over so well.”

“Ooh, that’s a good idea!” Raven exclaims, smiling.

The two of them continue to lounge in silence for a little bit until Angel offers Raven some nail polish and Raven finds herself having another idea, a bottle of lilac paint in her hand.

“You know… Charles has a sweater this exact color…” Raven begins, a devious smirk spreading across her face, “Might be fun to make him match.”

Angel grins, “Yes! We can get all the boys.”

“Red for Alex, maybe? Because of his power?”

“Perfect! And neon pink for Hank, because that’ll stand out with the blue.”

“Okay, hear me out though – Sean with a cute little emo boy look. We can paint his nails black, and then dress him up. You know he’ll go along with it.”

“As long as we tag him and bribe him with sugar, yeah.”

“Well, of course. You paint, I’ll film?”

“Bet. Let’s go.”

With a plan in place, the two of them head out.

“Charles first,” Angel says, pointing at the lilac bottle still in Raven’s hand and pulling out her phone, ready to video the whole ordeal.

Raven’s hand is about half an inch from the doorknob on Charles’s door when the two of them hear a strange noise from within. Almost like a…

“...Hey…” Angel begins after a second, realization dawning on her, “...Didn’t he have a date today?”

Raven snatches her hand away like she’s been burned. “Fuck. Yes. Um, okay, let’s come back to-”

Another very unmistakable noise interrupts her sentence, followed by a strained word that sounds disturbingly like “professor,” and without a second’s pause she and Angel both turn tail and run down to the lower levels of the house. Far, far away from… that.

“Holy fuck, we need to find one of those telepaths on Nextdoor who wipes memories,” Raven says, collapsing into a beanbag chair and scrubbing at her face with her hands like that will help. Which it definitely won’t. She’s not even going to be able to look at Charles after this.

Angel giggles, sitting down next to her. “Who do you think he’s with?”

“Mystery Man, for sure.” Raven scrunches up her face. She doesn’t even want to imagine what the content of those messages must’ve been, given that what they heard today was their first date. Oh, god, she wants to forget this.

“I wonder who it is?” Angel muses.

“Normally, I would be all up for snooping, but it’s going to take a few days for the disgust to wear off.”

“Let’s find Sean, then!”

“Perfect. That is a truly amazing idea. Honestly, I’ve never heard a better idea.” Raven says, laughing a little in relief at the subject change.

Erik’s finding it hard to keep his eyes open.

It’s been quite a while since their talk, a time filled with, well… kissing to start with, among other things. And now he’s curled up in Charles’s arms, still half on top of the other man (it’s a twin bed). Charles is slowly tracing circles against his shoulder with his fingers, and the repetitive motion and the soft blankets and the shared body heat and just the comfort of it all is threatening to lull him to sleep.

“I hate to say it,” He mumbles, and stifles a sudden yawn, “But I should probably go.”

“What?” Charles whines, “Why?”

“Mm, I told my mama I’d be back at four at the latest, which was an hour and a half ago.” Come to think of it, she’s probably texted him a dozen times by now. His phone’s on silent, though, and half across the room anyways, on the floor in the pocket of his jeans.

“You can’t call and stay for dinner?”

“Will your friends be able to keep quiet about this?”

A pause. “I do see your point.”

Drowsily, the two of them disentangle from each other’s embrace, sitting up. Erik stands, quickly collecting his discarded clothes from the floor. Charles eyes him appreciatively from his spot on the bed.

“You look very sexy, bent over like that.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Erik responds, to which Charles simply raises a single eyebrow. “Not- You- I’m going to have to think of some new comebacks, aren’t I?”

“It would seem so.” They both laugh, and Erik gets dressed, trying to make himself look at least moderately presentable (there’s two hickeys on his neck that will guarantee he wears turtlenecks for the foreseeable future. Good thing it’s half his wardrobe).

As he’s all set to leave, Charles reaches out and pulls him back over to the bed. “Wait. I just wanted to check in with you. Are you feeling okay?”

“What… About… The scars?” Erik asks, a little confused. That conversation genuinely feels like a lifetime ago, at least to him.

“Well, that too, though I mostly meant… I mean, I assumed when you said you were closeted, that I’m… Your first guy…?”

“Oh,” Erik feels his face flush, “Well, you’d be correct. And, um, I didn’t actually think too much about that. I feel fine about it. Better than fine, really.”

Charles grins, tugging at his arm until Erik kneels beside the bed and he presses their lips together in another kiss.

“Have a wonderful evening, darling,” Charles says.

“You too… Darling,” Erik smiles when Charles does. “How should I get out? Are your roommates still gone?”

“Actually, they’ve been here. We got lucky on the way up,” Charles shrugs, then taps his temple, “Just… leave, and if you run into any of them, they won’t even know you’re there.”

“Naughty telepath.”

“I think it’s my turn to use whatever alternative insult to “fuck you” that we’re going to come up with.”

“Probably,” Erik nods, and with one last kiss on the cheek from Charles and a great amount of reluctance, he departs, not running into a single one of the roommates. Maybe it’s another miracle. Maybe it’s Charles. Those words could mean the same thing, anyway, in Erik’s opinion.

A few minutes into his walk home, his phone buzzes with a notification, then two more immediately after. Charles.

The first message is a phone number, followed by:

Erik feels his face stretching into full shark-mode, staring at the heart emojis and inputting Charles’s number into his phone.

This was probably the best first date ever.

As soon as Charles joins the dinner table downstairs, he clocks the vibe.

“What?” He asks, frowning at everyone’s weird faces. Raven appears to be unable to look at him. Angel is clearly stifling laughter. Sean and Alex are both smirking. And Hank… “Where’s Hank? What did he do?”

“Nothing. He’s about to go to Home Depot,” Raven answers, still looking in a wildly different direction than where Charles is. “Don’t ask why, I stopped listening as soon as he started using technical jargon to explain himself.”

“Okay, then… What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Everyone choruses at the same time. Then Angel snorts a laugh, causing Raven to groan and rest her head in her hands, Alex and Sean’s smirks getting deeper.

“Do I have to read your minds?” Charles sighs. “Clearly, something’s happening.”

“How was your date?” Angel asks, then giggles a little again, clapping a hand over her mouth.

Charles feels his face heat; he’s pretty sure he knows where this is going. “Oh, um… good.”

The silence in the room stretches on.

“Did-”

“We hear you? Yeah!” Sean says, finally losing an uphill battle and bursting out in laughter. It’s a miracle he managed to keep a smirk on for this long, really.

“It was disgusting,” Raven bemoans, making a pained face. “I had to leave! I was practically sexiled! This is the worst day of my life…”

“And a pretty good one for him,” Alex points out, making Sean and Angel laugh even harder and Charles flush an even deeper shade of red. Raven stands up, putting her half-finished plate in the sink.

“I’m done! Charles, don’t come near me for a week. I don’t want to think about this,”

Hank comes downstairs at that moment.

“Perfect!” Raven says, “Hank, can I come with you to Home Depot?”

Hank nods, looking surprised but also pleased. “Of course! It would be nice to have some company.”

“Great! We’re leaving now!” Raven grabs him by the arm, and before Hank can even figure out what’s going on he’s been dragged out the door. The rest of the mutants hear the car start outside a moment later.

“I…” Charles trails off, feeling a little shell shocked. “Well, it appears I’ve further traumatized my sister.”

“And the rest of us,” Angel giggles. “Who’s this guy, anyway?”

“No one.” Charles shrugs, wheeling over to the counter to fix himself a plate. It was clearly Angel’s night to cook, which translates to Chinese takeout (per usual) and (strangely enough) a platter of cinnamon rolls.

“C’mon, man, you have to tell us!” Sean begs. “We’re your best friends!”

“He’s a very wonderful person. And that’s the extent to which you all will be hearing about him.”

The group protests for most of dinner, but Charles holds firm.

If there’s one thing he won’t betray, it’s Erik.

Chapter Text

The door to Charles’s room slams open with a loud bang.

“Bloody hell!” Charles exclaims, dropping his phone onto his desk and feeling his heart race. “Sean, honestly, don’t do that! I’m studying right now.”

Sean ignores him, grinning and asking “What do you want for Christmas?” from behind his phone.

Charles sighs. “World peace.”

“And?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“You’ve said that three years in a row.”

“Well, maybe this year it’ll come true. Now go bug Hank, he’s studying too,” Charles waves Sean away, knowing he won’t be able to resist ruining another of his roommates' finals cram.

As soon as Sean leaves, shutting the door behind him (thankfully, that took people nearly a year to remember), Charles picks his phone back up, adjusts his glasses, and resumes texting Erik.

He may be exaggerating a little. Just a little. Erik knows this, he’s sure, and won’t take offense.

Charles, instead of risking embarrassment and just asking Erik, searches up the unfamiliar term. Google tells him that it’s a fried jelly donut. A very delicious looking fried jelly donut.

It’s been about three weeks since their first date – three weeks filled with texting, phone calls, and sneaking Erik in and out of the X Mansion. After what feels like an eternity, finals season wraps up, and Charles finds himself with a few days to enjoy the Christmas season before it’s all over.

“What do you want for Christmas this year?” Erik asks, breath tickling Charles’s ear. His head is resting on Charles’s shoulder, arms around his waist, the two of them snuggled up in Charles’s bed, just quietly scrolling and enjoying each other’s company.

“Mm…” Charles puts his phone down, tilting his head back to look at Erik’s face. “Maybe some new Converse. I’m up to nearly every color in the rainbow by now. I’m not sure. I kind of… I don’t really like asking for gifts, since I already feel like I have everything I need – and, well, the money to buy it if I don’t.” He blushes, feeling as though he’s overshared, and quickly moves on. “How about you? For Hanukkah?”

He feels Erik’s shoulders shrug against his back. “I need a new bike lock.”

“That’s all?”

“I don’t really like… stuff.”

“Fair,” Charles’s gaze flits over his crowded shelves, messy desk, and surplus of houseplants (not to mention the miniature christmas tree in the corner and all the extra decorations he’s piled into the room), “I could probably do with cutting down a bit.”

“I like all your stuff,” Erik admits, a little gruffly. He’s shy with giving compliments, Charles has found – and he’s taken a (slightly sick, yes, he knows) delight in trying to needle them out of the other man. “Your room feels… homey.”

“Why, thank you, darling,” Charles twists around a little in Erik’s arms and places a kiss against his cheek (positive reinforcement. God, he’s horrible). “I appreciate it.”

“Yeah.” Erik sounds a little embarrassed, though he’s obviously suppressing a smile. “What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Well, usually everyone goes to see family on Christmas or Christmas eve, so me and Raven have the house more or less to ourselves,” Charles explains, “We watch Die Hard and Home Alone one and two, and then as many stupid rom-coms as we can find.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It is,” Charles nods, thinking of the past few Christmases where it’s just been him and Raven. No stuffy charity parties. No Sharon and Kurt drinking themselves into oblivion. No unnecessary, unwanted, slightly insulting gifts (Kurt had given Charles an American football once after months of berating his studious nature). Just movies and cheerful rap remixes of Christmas music and baking messy cakes from box mixes when they get bored. All the family that he needs, right there with him, far away from anyone who could hurt them. “It’s better, without my parents.” Erik’s arms tighten around him. Just by a miniscule amount, but still enough that he feels it. It makes Charles smile – Erik, so protective. “So, you and your mom do a lot of cooking, for Hanukkah?”

“Yeah, that’s what we usually do. Sometimes we go to stuff at the synagogue across town, when they do extra readings. She’s taking a few days off this year, so that’ll probably happen at some point.”

“That’s cool,” Charles says. “Sorry I don’t… I don’t know more about this.”

“It’s fine, Charles. I don’t expect you to be reading up on my holiday traditions in your free time.”

Charles pushes himself up, turning so he can look at Erik properly. “Well, maybe I should be,” He smiles, squeezing Erik’s shoulder just a little, “I want to know all about you, and all the things in your life.”

Erik’s face looks serious (it always does, at least a little, but it’s more somehow), as he whispers, “Thank you, Charles.”

“Of course, darling.”

Erik pulls him down, softly, pressing their lips together. Charles hums contently, propping himself up with his elbows on either side of Erik’s head.

A while later, after the kissing is over and they’re comfortably snuggled up together again, Erik poses a question.

“Would you like to come over, one night, during Hanukkah? For dinner?”

Charles feels his heart hammer against his chest. Dinner at Erik’s place would mean meeting his mother, the actual act of which Erik only mentioned once, quickly changing the topic as though he was nervous, but the woman herself a constant fixture in his words. She’s very clearly the most important person in his life – and the thought of meeting her makes Charles a little scared, to tell the truth.

But then again. Erik’s asking him.

“That would be wonderful,” Charles gives a small smile, “Just let me know the details, and I’ll come over any time.”

Erik grins, (the full-on grin that he thinks makes him look like a shark, but Charles thinks makes him look incredibly handsome) and Charles feels his own smile widen in response, nerves fading. Not away, not entirely, but enough for him to focus instead on the beautiful man in his arms.

At least for the time being, anyway.

“What do you want?” Raven asks when Charles comes knocking.

“Is Angel here?” Charles asks.

“Yes!” A voice calls from inside. Raven stalks away, flopping onto her bed and leaving the door open for him.

“Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could have some… makeup help?” Charles blushes, gesturing to the… unfortunately timed mark on his neck (it had been worth it. Completely. But now it was proving to be a bit of a bother). “I’m afraid I don’t own a high enough shirt…”

Angel nods, “Yeah, I can cover it,” and goes to the closet to dig out the boys’ makeup shades, items mostly used for some of their better-quality videos or quick touch-ups.

“Wait,” Raven says, sitting up. Angel pauses, the two of them making eye contact. “You know what? We don’t have to help you.”

“Raven…”

“Tell us who this guy is, and then we’ll do it.” She crosses her arms, fixing Charles with a smug grin. She’s been bugging him about this for weeks, since the disgust factor (apparently) wore off.

“He’s…” Charles feels anxiety sputter up in his chest. Then, surprisingly, anger. “He’s asked for me to keep his identity private. This isn’t my secret to tell.”

“We won’t tell anyone!” Raven protests, obviously not grasping the gravity of the situation.

“Raven! Please, I’m begging you, help me just this once. I can’t tell you who he is, but his mother is the most important person in his entire life and I’m meeting her tonight and I can’t look-”

“Hey, hey,” Angel interjects, “It’s okay. You’re okay. We were just messing with you. I’ll do it right now.”

She starts with some bright orange paint stuff, about which Charles is skeptical, but he’s learned to trust the process. Angel is phenomenal at what she does.

“Do you need outfit help, too?” Raven asks after a few minutes, sounding bored.

“I thought I’d just wear a suit…”

“Where are you going to dinner?”

“Their house.”

“Nuh-uh. Absolutely not, you’re not overdressing like that.” Raven shifts into his likeness, something slightly eerie that he’s had to get used to over the years, and gets off her bed. “I’ll find something fashionable for you,” she calls as she leaves the room.

Charles sighs, and opts to turn his attention back to the mirror. Like magic, the orange paint has been covered, the spot returned to his exact skin tone like nothing was ever there.

While the few seconds of relief do little to calm his nerves, he is glad to know he won’t be meeting Erik’s mother looking like a complete tramp. Thank heavens.

Six ‘o-clock. A small, red-brick apartment building across town. The first floor. Unit 1C. A pale green front door.

Charles takes a deep breath, and knocks on it. He’s armed with flowers, a tasteful arrangement of seasonal blooms from good old Trader Joe’s, hopefully something Erik’s mother will like.

The door swings open.

“Erik!” Charles says, almost a little surprised. He’d been mentally preparing for Ms. Lehnsherr to answer the door.

“Hi, darling,” Erik gives him a little smile, leaning down for a quick peck before leading him into the apartment.

It’s a small place, and a little bit bare (Erik and his mother must share the same minimalistic tendencies), but cosy.

“I like your apron,” Charles can’t help but say, chuckling a little at the light-blue, daisy-patterned smock tied around Erik’s neck.

“Why, thank you.” Erik says, flashing a grin at him, hand resting on Charles’s shoulder as he calls, “Mama, Charles is here!”

His nerves come roaring back.

A woman emerges from the kitchen, wearing a similar apron to Erik’s (yellow, with pink roses. Same art style, probably part of a set). Her smile, too, is similar to his – a little bit sharp, but entirely warm.

“It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Ms. Lehnsherr,” Charles says, employing his most charming grin and holding out the bouquet to her, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” She smiles at him and Erik, accepting the flowers. “Thank you so much, Charles. And just ‘Edie’ is fine.”

Charles nods, feeling some of the anxiety leave his body.

“We were just finishing up the dinner,” Erik says, “It’ll just be another few minutes.”

“Is there anything I can help with?”

Both mother and son wave him away in the same fashion.

“We’ve got it covered.” Edie says, then adds, “Please, make yourself at home.”

Erik squeezes his shoulder, then he and his mother return to the kitchen. Charles hears intermittent laughter and quiet talking for the next few minutes, and then the two reemerge with lots of food in tow.

The dinner passes by at a fast pace, even as the clock ticks away hours. The sufganiyot, which Erik made, turns out to be as delicious as it looks. There’s a metal hanukkiah in the window, three candles lit, and Edie recalls the story of Erik surprising her with it, such a delicate, beautiful creation of his mutant gifts. Charles finds all of his nerves and anxiety completely gone by the time dinner’s over, after having such effortless conversation and quite a good amount of laughter.

Edie sends him home with leftovers (of which will either be eaten by Hank, in some odd hour of the night, or by Alex, if he gets to it first. Which he usually does), and Erik kisses him goodbye at the door.

A success, really.

Chapter Text

Erik Lehnsherr finds himself laughing.

Charles stares at him, fighting through his own fit of giggles, “Oh my!” He exclaims between laughs, “The way he-”

Erik laughs harder, nodding and gesticulating, “And with the-”

Their attempt at rehashing the moment dissolves into laughter, of which only gets worse when the car behind them honks and Erik realizes he forgot to pull out of the drive-thru.

The man working at the window recognized him immediately. He started stammering, and his hands were shaking, so much so that Erik had to practically catch the bag when he thrust it through the window. Of which he shut immediately after, without so much of a “thank you” or “have a nice night.”

Normally, it would be the kind of thing that would make Erik absolutely, positively livid. Whether the man had been afraid of him or disgusted by him, either way it was obviously an issue stemming from mutantphobia.

But then Charles all but snorted a laugh, a half-pitying, half-incredulous smile stretched across his face, and Erik felt himself follow suit.

“He just kept thinking, ‘that’s fucking Magneto, man, that’s Magneto!’” Charles chokes out.

“Really?”

“Yes! Wow, look at me, with the famous boyfriend – I can’t even go to a drive thru anymore!”

Erik scoffs, “Oh, please. It’s not solely my fault. That one lady at Target?”

“...Okay, I’ll give you that one. That was a strange day.”

Erik shakes his head, still smiling, and drops the McDonald’s bag on Charles’s lap. “Here. Have your garbage.”

“If I’d known you thought fast food to be beneath you, I could’ve chosen someplace else for our date,” Charles pouts, sticking out his lower lip. Erik resists the urge to lean over and kiss that pout off his face; he may be controlling the car with his powers, but he still has to keep his eyes on the road. Something that proves incredibly hard to do with his beautiful boyfriend in the car.

“Liebling, it’s fine,” Erik settles for laying a hand on Charles’s arm, “I’ve eaten today. I’m not going to starve.”

“Fine,” Charles concedes, a smile gracing his lips as he gazes at Erik through his eyelashes, “I suppose we can brave the kitchen back at home and find you something.”

Eyes on the road, eyes on the road… Erik reminds himself, though it’s becoming an increasingly futile mission.

Thankfully (or unfortunately, Erik can’t decide), Charles soon turns his attention towards his food, unwrapping his plastic-y looking burger and greasy fries delicately, then proceeding to take the biggest bite in the history of fast-food.

Erik shakes his head, fighting to keep the smile off his face.

“Erik, I was wondering, when’s your next protest?”

He very nearly loses control of the car, he’s so surprised to hear Charles ask that. “Wha-Why?”

“I thought maybe I could go to one, sometime?” Charles glances over, looking a little concerned about the way the car very nearly swerved. Nearly. It didn’t actually.

(Well, maybe just a little.)

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, if you’re okay with it?”

“No, yeah, that’s- but you don’t agree with virtually any of my… I just…”

Charles chuckles, “Erik, I think we agree on some pretty fundamental basics. We wouldn’t be able to stand each other if we didn’t! And while I don’t always agree with… um, how shall I put this? Your occasional… lack of diplomacy, I do admire the differences that you’ve made. Greatly.”

“I… Thank you, Charles, really.”

Charles blushes. “Of course.”

“The next protest I have scheduled is next Saturday, over in front of the Four Seasons.”

“What’s it for?”

“They’re trying to force people to ‘declare’ their mutations upon making a reservation, with fees if they find out that you’ve lied. And they’re trying to get legal clearance to turn away mutants with more powerful gifts.”

“That’s awful,” Charles’s face twists in disgust, “I’ll be there.”

“Thank you, Liebling.”

“Of course, darling.”

“So, what do you think?”

“Hold on, I’m on the last paragraph…” Erik races to finish the last few sentences, then finally lifting his gaze from the computer to see Charles’s expectant face.

“So?” Charles asks.

“I…. Well, first off, you know I only understand, like, half of this, right?”

“I know. But the parts you do understand, and the structure; what do you think?”

“It’s wonderful.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not, really, Charles. This is a great report – I can tell you know what you’re talking about, you’ve got the right evidence – yes, I know, unlike me, ha, ha – good analysis, and your word choice is exceptional.”

“Really?”

“Really. Are you sure you’re a sophomore?”

“Well, technically I’m a junior, since I took a bunch of AP’s… that’s besides the point. Thank you, dear.”

“Of course,” Erik smiles, standing and taking the few steps needed to reach Charles, where he’s sitting on the bed. “Now that we’re done with that…”

“What, you don’t enjoy reading about the ways genetics plays a role in neurodegenerative diseases?” He teases, pulling Erik down next to him, wrapping his arms around his neck.

“Mm… I like it when you read it to me.”

“Anglophile,” Charles rolls his eyes, but his fingers brush Erik’s cheek affectionately.

“I’ll pretend to know what that-” The end of his sentence is lost to Charles’s lips.

The door opens, hitting the wall with a bang.

Angel and Raven yelp in surprise.

“Jesus, Alex!” Raven exclaims, rippling back into her blue form, concentration lost.

Alex laughs a little, and gestures to his phone, “Say ‘hi’ to everyone!”

“Hi everyone, and fuck you!” Angel says, “Honestly, I miss finding fake bugs everywhere.”

“Yeah, the jumpscares are getting old,” Raven nods emphatically. “Now, get out, we’re filming.”

“‘Later.” Alex shrugs, and walks down the hall. Sean’s out who-knows-where, and he’s already gotten Hank and the girls, so that just leaves Charles.

Just like before, the door slams open loudly.

“Hey, Charles-”

Oh, fuck, fuck fuck!

He’s done. He’s actually dead. This stupid jumpscare thing, something that’s not even a real prank, is going to be the one he gets killed over. Of course. Of course it is.

Because Erik fucking Lehnsherr is glaring back at him.

Chapter Text

The door hits the wall with a bang. “Hey, Charles-!” Alex’s sentence is cut off abruptly by a surprised gasp, as he sees Charles and Erik. He yelps as the phone in his hand crumples into a ball of glass and broken circuitry.

Erik scrambles off of Charles, retreating to the far side of the bed, not bothering to look guilty for breaking the phone. The waves of emotion coming from him are startled and annoyed, but almost with a hint of smugness at his revenge. Charles sits up slowly, face blank.

Erik doesn’t know what he does.

“Alex…” He begins, voice similarly empty. “Was that a regular video?” He already knows the answer, but he’s hoping desperately, somehow, that he’s hearing Alex’s thoughts wrong.

Alex gulps, actually, visibly gulps. “...It… was a live…”

The ball of phone parts begins to crumple more, still clutched in his hand. Erik grasps at the comforter, knuckles turning white as he tries to ward off of the panic setting in.

How many people were watching that? How many people now know what he’d wanted to keep secret? Even just one would probably be enough, someone screenshotting something, spreading rumors online… and Alex has millions of subscribers.

And it’s not just Charles either, not just his sexuality.

His shirt’s lying in a crumpled ball on the floor.

His scars. They saw his scars.

“Honestly, Alex!” Charles exclaims. His face is angry now, feeling Erik’s reaction, his voice louder than Alex has ever heard. “You knew I had a date today! Why, in any circumstance, would you think it would be a good idea to barge into my room like that, with a live video going?”

That was the rule, after all. Barging into rooms is generally just something that happens (they’ve all learned to change in the bathroom), with videos going, with lives, with pranks.

Unless someone had a date that day. That was the rule, unspoken but always enforced. And yet, here was Charles, having to feel angry and stressed for both himself and Erik, who’s quite obviously on the verge of some kind of freak-out.

“I-I’m sorry!” Alex says, hastily fumbling for a response. “I wasn’t- I just- I- I-”

“Get out,” Charles all but snarls, “Now, please.”

Alex scurries away, closing the door behind him.

The air in the room feels stagnate, frozen, somehow. Erik avoids eye contact as gets up, picks up his shirt, and pulls it on. His face is impassive, but there are waves of anxiety and anger rolling off of him, a cloud of hot emotion that threatens to suffocate Charles.

“I’m so, so, sorry, Erik. He had no right to just barge in here like that.”

“It’s fine, Charles.” Erik’s voice is stiff.

It’s not fine. He’s not fine.

“I should go,” He takes his jacket from where it’s folded over the chair, slipping it on, buttoning it up, and walking towards the door.

It’s a delayed reaction, but after a second Charles manages to stammer, “Wait, what?” and quickly transfers back to his chair, his own shirt be damned, following Erik out into the hall. “Erik, we have to talk about this!”

“I don’t see why we should.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to leave?” You’re just going to leave me?

He must’ve raised his voice a little too loud, because a door creaks open and Raven pops her head out into the hall. “Charles, what’s go-” Her voice chokes, her eyes widening as she recognizes Erik. “Holy fuck!”

“Raven!” Charles exclaims, and she ducks back into her room, the door closing with a click. “Erik, honestly, please!”

Erik keeps walking. He’s nearly to the stairs, and given that the man is in no patient mood that presents an entirely different issue.

“Darling-”

He turns. “Charles. I’m fine. I have to go.”

“You… Do you need me to drive you home?”

“I’m fine.”

“It’s cold.”

“I’m fine, Charles.”

He starts down the stairs, and Charles, in a last ditch attempt, starts wheeling after him again.

And then the wheels just stop.

“Erik!” Charles snaps. Well, more yells, really. Erik turns around, face surprised. Why is he surprised? What did he expect?

“What the actual fuck? You can’t just stop my wheelchair because you’ve decided to throw a tantrum!” He knows the “tantrum” bit isn’t really fair in this situation, but rage is washing over him in great waves – and this time, it’s not Erik’s.

“I’m sorry, Charles.” Erik says quietly. And he does look sorry. And for a second, Charles wonders if they might be able to talk.

But then he turns and starts walking again. And maybe Charles’s chair isn’t frozen anymore, but it’s clear Erik’s not going to wait for him to get down the stairs. Seconds pass, and he hears the front door close.

Erik’s gone, leaving Charles somewhere between fuming and heartbroken.

Erik doesn’t remember the walk home. He barely registers opening the door, not bothering with his keys and using his gift instead, hands shaking.

But as soon as he’s inside, that’s when it hits him.

Holy shit, everything’s gone straight to hell. His career is probably significantly wounded. Worse, he was a complete dick to Charles. He heard himself doing it, too, pulling away, being cold, being a complete fucking asshole, but he couldn’t stop. It was like he was a spectator in his own body, his own mind.

He should’ve never messaged Professor X. He should’ve taken Emma’s advice, and left it be. Then he wouldn’t be standing here wondering how he managed to fuck up so badly.

“Erik?” His mother’s voice comes from her room, most likely. He opens his mouth, tries to speak… and instead he chokes out a sob.

His mom appears in the living room, brow furrowed. She makes a beeline for Erik and wraps him in her arms. "Mein Schatz, Erik, what happened?”

He manages to stammer something along the lines of “one of Charles’s roommates caught us kissing on camera, it was a live video, and then I acted like a complete jerk for no reason” as Edie leads him over to the couch.

She looks reasonably worried. The last time he had this kind of stress response (in front of her) was the day they escaped from Shaw’s compound, years ago – and back then it was only after he knew they were both safe. Now, he’s sitting around crying because he yelled at his boyfriend and the internet saw them kissing. What an absolute idiot he’s turning into.

“That wasn’t fair to you, I’m sorry, Erik.” His mom says, rubbing comforting circles on his back the way she used to when he was little.

“But-What I-Charles-” He rests his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees, trying to will the tears to stop flowing, to will the tightness in his chest to leave.

Control.He needs some fucking control.

“Erik. What you did, yes, it wasn’t all that great. But you see that. You know the mistake you made, and as long as you try not to do it again I’m sure Charles would accept your apology.”

“I can’t- I can’t face him. Not after this. I just- I just bailed!” He can feel the metal in the room begin to tremble, and it hits him that he’s spiraling right now. He’s lost control of his powers, of his emotions.

Actually, he’s been spiraling for a while now, in that light.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Edie pulls him a little closer. “You don’t have to do anything right now. Give Charles some time to cool off; it might be better for both of you. And, there’s always the chance that the internet might not care.”

“The internet always cares. The internet’s nosy.” Erik grumbles, but he can feel himself coming back a little bit. He doesn’t have to fix this now.

Just for tonight. Just tonight, he can go to bed, and pretend nothing happened, and he can deal with it in the morning.

He’ll deal with it in the morning.

“What’s going on? Why is he yelling?” Angel asks as soon as Raven shuts the door.

“Holy fucking shit!” Raven hisses, “Erik fucking Lehnsherr is the mystery man! Magneto!”

“No!” Angel practically leaps from her bed, joining Raven by the door. Raven holds a finger to her lips, and together they listen (They probably shouldn’t eavesdrop. But the fact of the matter is, they’d be hearing the same exact thing if they were sitting five feet away on their beds, so it’s not like it really counts).

They’re arguing – well, not exactly arguing, but there’s definitely some tension there – about the freezing weather and Charles wanting to drive Erik fucking Lehnsherr home, and then it’s quiet for a moment, and then Charles starts shouting.

He barely ever raises his voice. Generally, the more serious Charles is, the quieter he gets, making people lean in, listen carefully, pay such close attention to him that he’s undeniable. But now he’s shouting and he sounds angry.

Raven gasps softly. “I’m going to kill that motherfucker!” she whispers to Angel. Messing with someone’s wheelchair? No matter how handsome that person is, that’s seriously messed up.

“Shh, he’s saying sorry!” Angel gestures to the door, and sure enough, Erik fucking Lehnsherr is quietly voicing an apology.

And then…

And then nothing.

It’s quiet for a minute.

“Should we check on him?” Angel asks, stepping back.

Raven nods, “Let me,” and pushes open the door.

Charles is sitting in the hallway, staring absently at the staircase. He looks messy – glasses gone, hair mussed, not wearing a shirt for the first time that Raven can remember since… childhood, really. He always refused to go swimming because of his scars, even since they’ve moved. Seeing him like that now… it almost feels weirder than the Erik fucking Lehnsherr situation.

“Charles?” Raven says quietly.

He turns his head, looking at her. His expression is somewhere between dread and exhaustion.

“Are you okay?” There’s a million other questions in her head, most of them some form of “how the fuck did you manage to secretly start dating Erik fucking Lehnsherr,” but she tries to keep those thoughts quiet and focus on making sure her brother’s alright.

“Did he just break up with me?” Charles wonders aloud, sounding dumbfounded.. “He left, just like that, without even talking about it. Does that mean that it’s over?”

“I… Well, what happened? I might be able to tell you.”

Charles takes a breath, then, in possibly the flattest voice she’s ever heard from him, he explains how Erik fucking Lehnsherr reached out to them, how he was closeted because of his career, how they decided to just date in secret, and how that secret – and more prominently, Erik’s secret – had just been outed by Alex’s stupid jumpscare livestream.

“That’s no excuse to act like such an asshole!” Raven says.

“He’s not usually… He’s very sweet, most of the time. I think he was just scared. I just wish he’d talk to me. I… I feel like this is my fault, for bringing him here.”

Raven scoffs. “If anything, it’s Alex’s fault. Ugh, I’ve got two motherfuckers to plan murders for, don’t I?”

Charles doesn’t even respond to her murder comment like he usually would. Instead, he just quietly says, “I think I’m going to go to bed. Thank you for checking on me, Raven, goodnight,” and wheels himself back to his room.

Raven returns to hers. “I’m guessing you heard all that?”

Angel nods, eyes wide. “Should we… I mean, like, should we check?” She gestures to her phone, “See what’s gotten out?”

Raven sighs. “Probably for the best. We can tell Charles how bad it is in the morning, and help him out.”

The two of them take to the feeds. Sure enough, in the past couple of minutes, there’s already been countless posts made, between Erik fucking Lehnsherr’s audience and Charles’s.

Angel gasps, and Raven leans over to look at her screen, then immediately looks away. “Oh, ew, okay, I didn’t need to see that.”

It was a picture of Erik fucking Lehnsherr making out with her brother (ew, ew, ew!). In bed (horizontal, ew!). Shirtless (both of them, ew!). Twenty minutes ago, Raven probably wouldn’t have minded stumbling across a shirtless Magneto photo, but now… that’s territory she doesn’t want to be in. Especially with her brother involved.

“I was going to warn you!” Angel says, then frowns. She pinches at her screen, zooming in. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Um, I’m not sure if you want to look at it again, but… Magneto…” Angel trails off, gesturing at the screen. Raven, reluctantly, leans over again… and notices what Angel must be looking at.

Erik fucking Lehnsherr’s back and shoulders are riddled with deep, red scars.

“Oh my god,” Raven says. “Wow, that looks awful. I wonder what happened to him?”

“I bet it’s that thing, that thing he was a part of, or whatever.”

“What? What thing?”

“The whole Sebastian Shaw thing, the mutant institutes. Remember? Erik’s mom was like, married to the guy, and they escaped and, like, shut the whole place down and the press went all crazy for a while. Back in high school?”

“Oh my god, you’re right. Didn’t they torture a bunch of mutants there?”

Angel nods, face somber. “‘Training’ or whatever.”

“But don’t you think he would’ve talked about it if that happened to him? Like, activism’s his whole thing. That would probably get him some major sympathy points.”

“I don’t know. I’d think so, but then again, he never mentioned he was gay, either, so...” Angel shrugs, “Plus, I heard the press released all that information out without permission. It was never supposed to be public knowledge in the first place. They just did, like, a bad job of protecting the victims.”

“This is all so messed up.” Raven says, quietly, rubbing her fingers across her scales. It’s still hard for her, sometimes, embracing her natural form. She knows what it’s like to keep a secret, and she knows what it’s like to face prejudice – but sharing her journey’s always been her choice.

Erik Lehnsherr just got thrown into the mix without asking for it.

Chapter Text

Usually, by the time Sean gets back from flying (generally something that constitutes driving around for hours looking for tall places to jump from. He keeps having to drive farther for new videos) most of the house is dark, save for Hank (up doing science or whatever) and sometimes Charles’s windows. But tonight, nearly all the lights are on (except Charles’s…).

“Hey, Alex, how’s it going?” He greets the man sitting at the kitchen counter.

“All things considered, pretty damn awful,” Alex says, taking a swig of his soda. Come to think of it, he is wearing a deeper-than-usual frown.

“Aw, man, what happened?” Sean asks, hanging his coat up at the door and walking over to sit next to his friend.

Alex groans. “Where do I even start?”

“The beginning, I guess, is a good place to start a story. But, hey, if you want to just jump into the middle of it, that works too. There’s books that do that, you know, it’s to keep you in suspense, make you wonder how and when it’s going to happen.”

Alex rolls his eyes, but starts talking. “Do you remember the hear me out cake from like, two months ago?”

“Yeah!” Sean nods, smiling. He really liked that video, actually. Nowadays a lot of their stuff has turned into scripted, slightly overproduced (in his opinion) skits or random vlogs. Not that it’s not still fun, and thankfully their audience is sticking around, but he really enjoyed the hear me out cake. Everyone was laughing the whole time, and, as a bonus, it was delicious.

“Okay,” Alex sighs. “You know Magneto?”

“Hm… I don’t know,” Sean makes a goofy thinking face, a desperate attempt to lighten Alex’s mood at least a little bit. When it doesn’t work, he just nods, dropping the sarcasm. “Yeah, no, I know him.”

“Okay… You know Charles’s secret boyfriend?”

“Well, no, none of us-” Sean’s eyes widen, “Holy shit man, you’re not saying…?”

Alex grunts a confirmation.

“Oh my god! How do you know?”

“I thought Charles was alone, and I walked in on them sucking face.”

Sean starts laughing. “Please tell me you got this on video. I have got to see Magneto’s reaction to… actually, man, how are you alive right now?”

“I got it on video,” Alex grumbles, then pulls a very crumpled looking… is that a phone? “And it was… live.”

Sean stops laughing. “Oh. Oh shit! You outed Magneto, on live video. He destroyed your phone?”

“And he and Charles got into a big fight. I could hear it all the way from here. He left, too. Immediately.”

“He was yelling at Charles?” Sean feels a bristle of protectiveness. He’s younger than Charles, just by a little bit, but it’s never stopped him from feeling like he owes it to the man to look out for him. Charles is one of the best – if not the best – friends he’s ever had. And even if Magneto scares the crap outta him, well, he’d sock him in the face for Charles.

“Charles yelled at him.”

“Charles yelled?”

“At me, too, though… I deserved it.” Alex sighs, and puts his face in his hands.

“Rough night, huh?”

“The roughest. I didn’t… I know I’m not always the nicest, but I’d never do something like this on purpose.”

“Hey, man, it’s not really… I mean, they could’ve locked the door. Charles knows people do stuff like that here.”

“If I’d just managed to come up with a better prank idea then jumpscares by slamming open doors, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Something in his voice is more vulnerable than Sean’s ever heard. And then it hits him, holy cow, Alex is scared. And not just about this.

“Hey, man, what’s going on? This isn’t the only thing you’re upset about, is it?”

Alex groans, shaking his head. “I’m just… I’m running out of ideas. Everyone else in this house is doing something interesting, and I’m losing followers because I can’t think of anything else to do. You’re all smart and charming, and I’m just… awful. To all of you. It’s been years and I can’t even get Hank to stand me, let alone like me, and now Charles is going to hate me forever, too.”

“Hey. No. Alex, you’re plenty smart, and a lot of people like you. Charles won’t hate you forever, he knows it was an honest mistake, and Hank… Well, no offense, but, man, you might just be better off trying to meet someone else.”

Alex chuckles dryly, devoid of humor. “I know. I know that he totally likes Raven and he totally hates me and I should just get over him. But it’s not…”

“It’s not easy, man, I know. Look, you seem tired. Normally I’m all for drinking Red Bull at eleven PM, but you might be better off trying to get some sleep. Who knows, the best-ever-prank might come to you in your dreams.”

“Maybe.” Alex shrugs, sounding skeptical, but he stands up and throws the can in the trash.

“Alex?” Sean says, stopping the guy right as he reaches the stairs.

“What.”

“You know that we wouldn’t be here without you, right? You’re the one who brought this whole thing together.”

Alex scoffs, “That was Charles.”

“Nah, man. He might be the glue, but you were the inciting incident.”

“Really going for the book metaphors tonight, huh?”

“Well, you know me. Reading’s my thing,” Sean jests. Ha, he can’t even remember the last time he read a book.

Oh, wait, no, he can: freshman year of high school. Romeo and Juliet. God, that had been a nightmare. Fucking Shakespeare, man; now that’s torture.

It’s not that he doesn’t like reading. He enjoys audiobooks, if they happen to be around, but between his dyslexia and all his other hobbies, it’s just not something he ever really thinks to do.

Alex nods at him, and without another word he heads up the stairs. Sean can’t tell if his words made any difference, but, hey, at least he tried.

Now. There’s something that must be done. He opens his phone, typing “Magneto” and “Professor X” into the search bar. It’s time to see how crazy shit is.

Charles takes a nice, long shower, popping on a relaxing playlist and trying to drown his stress in the steam. Unfortunately, he’s a world-class overthinker, and his mind insists on replaying the night’s events on loop.

How is he supposed to feel about any of this, anyways? Mad at Alex? Mad at Erik? Worried about him?

The only emotion he can pinpoint is devastation. Things had been perfect. His classes were going well, everyone in the house was more or less getting along, and on top of that he had Erik.

He should’ve known that things had to go wrong eventually. They always do.

He curls up in bed and shuts his eyes tight, trying to squeeze away the tears threatening to come forth.

Erik wakes up early every morning. He runs, showers, and heads off to his classes. It’s a well-honed routine that he’s practiced for years like clockwork, only stopping during the rare occasions that he’s sick, or the even rarer occasions (that can be counted on one hand) that he’s hungover.

Today, he’s decided, is an exception. Last night he shut off his alarm, and let himself sleep in. It’s… what, ten thirty now? And he only woke up an hour ago. Though “up” is a strong word. He’s currently laying in bed, playing Blockblast on his phone and trying to suppress the urge to look at whatever hellscape his social media has surely become.

There’s a quiet knock on his door.

“Yeah?” His voice is still raspy from sleep.

“I’m heading out, I’ve got two shifts. I won’t be back until late tonight.” His mother says through the door. “Text me if you need anything.”

“Ich liebe dich, Mama. Have a good day."

“Ich liebe dich auch, mein Sohn. Feel better.”

He hears the front door open and close, and he stretches out on his bed with a sigh, letting his eyelids flutter closed. There’s this awful feeling eating away at the insides of his chest, and his eyes are burning and puffy from crying the night before.

He wonders if Charles cried too.

He’ll text him. Of course he will. He just… needs a little time to get in the right headspace. A little time for both of them to cool off. Yeah. It’s a good plan, really.

He’s totally not procrastinating.

The door slams open and shut again, and Erik’s eyes open as he frowns. Did his mom forget something? Footsteps approach his room, and then…

Emma comes marching in.

He buries his face in his pillow in response.

“Get up,” She orders.

“Go away, Emma.” He says. Well, tries to say. It comes out more like “ooh-ay-ay-ma.”

A pillow hits him in the back. Hard.

“What the fuck?” He hisses, propping himself up on his elbows. “How did you even get in?”

“I ran into your mom as she was leaving, she said she left the door unlocked since you were here.”

“Wonderful.” He deadpans.

Emma rolls her eyes at him. “Look, sugar. I saw what happened. I’m not surprised you’re feeling this way, and I can’t hold it against you. But don’t act like a bitch to me. I’m here to help you.”

“Help with what?”

She holds up a grocery bag. “You’re coming to the living room with me. I have chocolate, popcorn, poptarts, and potato chips. We’re watching a stupid movie and getting your mind off of all this and your eyes off your phone.”

Erik groans, “Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

He sighs, and drags himself out of bed. It’s better to not piss Emma off.

Chapter Text

There’s a knock at Charles’s door.

“Hey, Charles?” Raven’s voice.

He sits up with a sigh. “Yes, Raven?”

A pause. “I brought you some ice cream. Birthday cake flavored.”

His favorite.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Raven opens the door, then shuts it again behind her. She comes and sits down on his bed next to him, handing him a pint of ice cream and a spoon.

It’s a nice gesture, but to be perfectly honest he’d prefer a pint of beer, which had always done in a pinch. Kurt never really noticed when he took them from the fridge. Though he prefers wine, which his mother had in abundance, or scotch, which he’d always managed to pilfer from his father’s study-

Charles shakes the thought out of his head and opens the ice cream. It’s been a little over a year and a half since he’s had a drink and he certainly doesn’t intend to let a breakup break his sobriety. Besides, they don’t keep alcohol in the house.

“Thank you.” He says quietly, taking a bite. Raven nods, her face concerned. “You don’t have to worry about me, Raven. I’m going to be fine.”

“Charles. What happened last night was hardly ‘fine.’” Raven’s face changes to a look closer to anger, “That was some messed up shit.”

“How… How bad is it?”

She shifts uncomfortably. “It’s… not great.”

“Are they… For Erik, what… What are they saying about him?”

“Um… Well, some people are on his side.”

“And?”

“And a lot of people are annoyed that he kept a secret.”

Charles nods, feeling numb, and takes another bit of the ice cream. It tastes bland, the flavor washed away by his melancholia.

“Serves him right, anyway, for leaving you like that.” Raven grumbles. “What the fuck was that thing with your wheelchair? Honestly, asshole…”

“Raven… While I… I appreciate your concern for me,” Charles stops, feeling his throat get thick and his eyes start watering. “Erik, he’s not- He was just- He was scared, and he had to leave to protect himself, and he just-” His voice breaks, and a sob comes out instead. Raven wraps an arm around him, pulling him close. “God, Raven, I think- I-I think I loved him.”

She holds him until he’s done crying, just like he would do when they were little kids and people made fun of her mutation, just like she did every time he broke down after the accident. She tells him that everything’s going to be okay.

He can’t see how it can be.

“Good morning!” Hank greets Raven, Angel, and Sean, who are all in the kitchen. Sean, from the looks of it, is making his famous pancakes, and the girls are hunched over a phone at the breakfast bar. “How’s everyone today?”

Raven sighs and puts her head down on the counter. “You haven’t heard, have you?”

“Heard what?”

“Oh, god. Can someone else take over? I can’t do this right now.”

“Do what? Raven, are you okay?”

“Hank, I’m just…” Angel holds up her phone, making an unreadable face. “I’m going to send you something, okay? Just to… get you caught up.”

“Don’t you have classes?” Erik grumbles as Emma scrolls through the Disney Plus catalog.

“Same classes as you, sugar. It’s the beginning of the semester, they won’t miss us.” She clicks on something, looking to have made up her mind. “Now. We’re going to watch this movie, we’re going to eat the crappiest food ever, you will get your mind off of all this for two hours, and then you’re going to call Charles.”

“...Fine.” Erik concedes, sinking deeper into the couch. Bouncy music begins to play, and Emma hands him a poptart.

The movie doesn’t suck. It’s not quite two hours wasted, and it does get his mind off of Charles for a little bit.

But when it’s over, he can’t bring himself to call. Emma makes him promise that he will, and he nods, but then she leaves and he just can’t do it.

Time. He needs just a little more time. Just to make sure Charles isn’t angry with him still and to forget how badly he acted.

Time. It’s all going to be fine.

Chapter Text

“Okay! And that’s twenty-five, time for our lovely little five minute break!” Charles flashes a grin at the camera, and Erik isn’t sure if he feels light-headed or devastated. “Anyone have any questions for me? Preferably about alleles, since that’s what I’ve got my textbook here for.”

Erik , in possibly one of the most idiotic decisions of his life, clicks on the comments section of the live. There’s a few legitimate questions, teenagers asking for help with algebra problems or Shakespeare interpretations, but every other comment seems to be about him. Him and Charles.

Whats the deal with u and magneto??

Can’t believe you converted magneto. We need details.

Are you dating Magneto?????

Erik closes the comments section to see that Charles’s brow has furrowed a little. “Wow, we’ve got a lot of… personal questions here, don’t we? Kind of bold, for study hours. Why don’t we go back to focusing on the important things, here, and not my love life, okay?”

The important things. As in, not him and Erik.

No, no, that’s fine. This is his job. Of course he’s not going to start bearing his soul to random strangers on the internet. If anything, it’s a relief. It’s not like Erik’s been talking about it either, aside from five days of repeating “I feel that my sexuality is not relevant at this time” and trying to get people focused back on the actual issues he’s trying to talk to them about.

“Hey, Charles, do you want some tea?”

“Hank! Come say hello to everyone.”

A blue, furry, bespectacled face appears on the screen. Beast waves to the camera.

“Tea would be lovely, thank you, my friend.”

Beast nods and pats Charles on the back, giving one more smile (snarl?) to the camera and then ducking back out of the frame.

“You know, if you haven’t gotten anything to drink in a while, you’ve got two minutes left to stand up, stretch, hydrate. Don’t worry, I’ll still be here when you get back.” Charles grins again, looking so… happy, and Erik hits the power button on his phone, plunging the screen into darkness.

He needs to get back to work. He still has to make some calls to confirm he’s got marshals for the protest tomorrow, and then Emma wanted to talk to him about signage and…

Maybe he should get some water. It’s been a while.

“God, are we awful for going? I mean, with everything…”

“I know! He’s being so… such a workaholic.”

“He’s depressed, he’s trying to get his mind off of it or something instead of just calling up that asshole and asking what his deal is… Ugh, and if we don’t go, people are just going to be bugging him more.”

“I hate the internet.”

“It sucks. Oh,” Raven looks up to see Charles at the door. “Hey.” Behind her, Angel scrambles to hide the posters they’re making, though her “Magneto is right” shirt remains in plain view.

“Sorry,” She realizes after a second, crossing her arms over her chest.

He shakes his head, “No, don’t worry about it! Actually, I was wondering if you two would mind a third?”

Raven and Angel stare at Charles.

“You do realize that we’re going to a protest, right?”

“Yes.”

“His protest?”

“Yes, I know. I promised that I would go, and despite everything, I think that promise still stands.” Charles shrugs, smiling at them so jovially that anyone who hadn’t known him for years would think he was having the best week of anyone in the world.

“Charles!” Raven sighs, “Please. You can’t go to this just to see him.”

“I’m not, Raven. I’m curious, is all. You’re always saying I need to be more involved with this kind of thing, anyway, I’m surprised you’re objecting.”

“Oh, fuck off, Charles, you know exactly why I’m objecting.” Raven rolls her eyes, but tosses him a marker. “If you insist on self-sabotaging against my better judgement, at least help us make some signs.”

Charles has no clue why the fuck he’s going to the protest.

Well, okay, maybe it has something to do with a certain someone who keeps ducking in and out of his live streams but can’t be bothered to actually call. He knows, logically, that’s the most idiotic reason to go anywhere or do anything.

But Erik Lehnsherr has proved he can drive Charles crazy enough to venture into a crowded, emotion-filled area on the off chance that, amidst all the actual, real-life issues going on around them, that they might be able to talk. Just long enough to see if Erik would even consider taking him back, after everything.

Or just long enough to ask him to call.

Angel and Raven shoot him worried glances as they get out of the car and head towards the already-crowded square. He smiles back at them each time, and they look away quickly when he does. At least they care. That’s more important than the little prickle of annoyance rooting itself into his gut.

The sky is slightly overcast, but the weather isn’t quite as freezing as it has been, leaving protestors free to open their jackets and display t-shirts with slogans and “mutant and proud” logos. The air hums with mental energy, feelings of elation and anger and community and fear all swirling together in a vile, beautiful, heady mixture. Charles breathes it all in for a second, then slams up as many extra shields as he can manage. They’ll only last a little while, and probably leave him with a headache later, but that’s better than having a psychic breakdown in public.

As he closes off his telepathy he becomes aware of the chanting, of the jostling bodies around him hoisting signs and raising fists. Raven and Angel have started in as well, and he looks up at his sister, face emblazoned with a fury he’s only ever seen glimpses of, and just like that he can see it.

This is what Erik was always talking about.

Perhaps, at some point, supremacy had been confused with the word “community.”

Erik takes a sharp breath and nearly drops the cups of water he’s handing to a group of nervous-looking teenagers, and Emma clocks it immediately.

“What’s wrong, sugar?” She asks quietly. Well, as quietly as possible, amidst the chanting.

He shakes his head, mouthing “nothing,” and though she narrows her eyes at him she doesn't press. Chances are, she already knows, since there’s no way he didn’t start projecting his panic all over the place the moment he felt Charles’s wheelchair.

Yes, rationally, he knows that there are other wheelchair users who might be coming to a mutant right’s protest. But he knows the metal in that chair and the funky, wire-rimmed, double-bridged glasses and the small chain necklace, warm from being tucked under a shirt like he knows every magnet on his own fridge.

He scans the crowd as he hands out more waters, halfheartedly greeting people as he goes about his futile attempt to find Charles in the crowd. Rationally, he knows he’ll be too short for him to see. But his eyes wander anyway.

Why is he here?

Emma sends the mental equivalent of a shoulder tap, drawing him out of his thoughts, and he turns to see his friend surrounded by… Well, her friends. His acquaintances. All except one, actually.

“This is Darwin!” She says, and the man steps forward, offering his hand for a shake.

“Really good to meet you, man. I’m a huge admirer of your work.”

Erik nods and accepts the handshake. “Thank you. What’s your mutation?”

Emma sends him a glare at the question (she says he needs to stop assuming. He just prefers not to waste his time on so-called “allies” who will turn tail as soon as going gets a little rough) but Darwin smiles.

“I adapt to survive. Hence the nickname.”

Truthfully, Erik has no clue what that kind of mutation might entail, but he nods again, turning back to the waters and leaving Emma and Darwin and all the rest of them to chatter away.

You should try a little harder sometimes, sugar. Emma’s exasperated mental voice filters into his head.

Why? I’ve no need for more complications in my life.

Emma sends an approximation of an eyeroll. You’re lonely, Erik, and you can’t even see it.

Can we not do this now?

Fine, sugar.

Erik busies himself with the waters again, glancing up in the direction of Charles’s chair just to see if the turmoil of the crowd has revealed the man (it hasn’t, he’s too far).

Maybe it’s the distraction, or the noise, or all the stress and melancholia of the past week. Maybe he’s just having an off day.

But there’s a crack.

And then screams.

And there’s metal, and a pain in his shoulder.

And - shit.

Erik feels the edges of reality get fuzzy as the mutant cure sinks into his bloodstream.

Chapter Text

A second of silence stretches into eternity after the gunshot rings. Time, and everyone in the square, appears to be frozen.

Then the dam is broken, and screaming shatters the air as panic and shock and fear permeate Charles’s shields and overwhelm his mind.

“Charles, we’ve got to go!” Raven shouts at him, tugging on his shoulder and breaking his stupor. People around them are clamoring to get away, pushing into each other, stepping on feet, yelling for their friends and family as they get separated. It’s hectic.

He’s inclined to agree with Raven, and yet…

…As the crowd thins, he begins to sense a familiar mind. A complex mind, a warm mind… a mind plunged deep into confusion. Erik. He turns to where the front of the crowd once was… and there he is.

There he is.

Erik stumbles as the magnetic pull of the Earth flickers and fades in his mind. Fuck, fuck… He’s never been good at staying upright, not on any cure that Shaw had ever tested him on, not even as his tolerance grew.

The familiar roar of metal dulls to a low buzz, making the chaos around him turn into a two-dimensional nightmare. He can barely tell which way’s up, and now there’s people pushing into him and past him and he staggers, catching himself on his knee. The pain stings, and he can taste the metal and bile in his mouth but he just can’t feel it, and then every brush of a hand or a body against him becomes Shaw.

Arms holding him to the table. The tease of the metal and the power and the words and the feeling of the pain and the seep of the blood into his clothes and-

There’s a warm tug at the edge of his mind, pushing those thoughts back into the darkness, breaking his spiral, and when Erik looks up he sees him. Charles.

There he is.

Relief floods his body. Maybe, just maybe, all of this is going to be okay.

And then another shot rings out, the faintest echo of moving metal ringing in Erik’s senses.

Erik’s staggering towards him, pushing through the few people left in the crowd with a wild look in his eyes.

There’s a dart flying towards him. Straight at Charles. Straight at his head.

That won’t just deliver the cure – that could kill him.

Erik reaches out his hand, grasping at the echoes of the metal, reaching for it with everything he has left, heart pounding in his chest, throbbing in his ears. Shaw’s voice rings in his head, “You lack control. Without control, how can you truly wield your power? If you can’t wield it, do you even have power at all?”

No.

He has power.

He’s fought cures just like this before. He’s learned to do this. And it was awful and painful and it should’ve never happened to him. But maybe, maybe, he can find a little peace in his past if he can just do this now. If he can just save Charles.

The metal sings. He reaches.

Please. Just let me have this.

Chapter Text

Charles stares at the dart as it stops not five inches away from his temple and clatters to the ground. Raven and Angel and a good amount of passersby have all started screaming again.

A gasp rips from his chest, like he’s had all the air knocked out of him.

Bloody fucking hell, he just almost died!

Police sirens wail, louder every second. The station’s only two blocks away, if Charles is remembering right. That’s good. They should be here soon.

Four more shots fire and more screams come and Raven is tugging insistently at his shoulder again, but he can only sit there and watch, unmoving, as each dart stops midair and clatters to the ground. Vaguely, Charles remembers reading somewhere that those awful, single-use, assemble-yourself cure guns that people buy on Amazon only have six rounds each. The thought is a small comfort, provided the gunman doesn't have multiple guns – or more advanced weaponry.

Marshals in neon jerseys are directing the crowd, now, though there’s not really a crowd to speak of anymore, just a few stragglers and a few people cowering behind event booths and a few mutants lingering about who don’t seem to be afraid (one’s a woman with diamond skin, so her lack of fear is understandable) and even a few brave cameramen who’ve managed to stick it out.

And then there’s Charles.

And then there’s Erik.

He’s kneeling on the ground, eyes wide, a bloody dart clutched in his fingers. Trembling fingers.

With his own shaking hands, Charles wheels straight for the other man.

“Erik, are you okay?” He manages to breathe, and then Erik looks up and meets his gaze and the crush of relief flowing from him is dizzying.

“I’m fine,” He whispers. “Oh, god, Charles, I thought I was going to lose you.” His gaze drifts down, staring at the dart in his hand in horror.

“I’m just fine, Erik. Thanks to you.” Charles fills his lungs with as much air as possible, trying to ground himself, and then he forces out his apology (god, the embarrassment…) “I’m so sorry about what happened, Erik, really. And I know this is hardly the time, or the place, but I just need you to know that I am so, so, sorry. I feel responsible for putting you in that situation…”

Erik’s head snaps up again.

“You’re sorry?”

“Well, yes.”

“I’m the asshole who walked out and did the stupid thing with your chair and didn’t even call. Charles, I’m so- so sorry.” Erik’s voice breaks, and he looks away. Charles reaches out, softly caressing the other man’s face in his hands, tilting up his chin and letting their gazes cross paths again.

“Perhaps we call it even, then, darling?”

Erik nods, and the poor man looks about ready to cry. Really, he’s just been shot, it’s a small miracle he isn’t already crying.

Actually, that’s a good reminder. There’s certainly more pressing issues right now than whether or not Charles still has a boyfriend.

“We should get you to a hospital.”

Erik shakes his head vehemently. “No. No hospital.” His words are starting to slur a little, the cure probably working its way through his system. Side effects – it must be a cheap cure. Cheap cures come with more side effects.

“Um… Okay. Can you stand for me, love? Or do you need someone to move you?”

“No, I can… walk. I’m just… I can’t feel where up is anymore,” Erik shrugs, but starts heaving himself to his feet, bracing himself against Charles.

“How did you get here?”

“Walked.”

“I’ll drive you back. Is Edie home?”

“Working. Until morning.”

Charles shakes his head. “I’m not sending you back alone.”

Erik opens his mouth to protest, then stumbles. “Fine.”

Charles waves Raven and Angel over, getting them to help support Erik as they walk to the car. Raven takes the keys from Charles without a word, and he slides into the back seat, Erik leaning against his shoulder.

“Hey, darling, Erik, try to stay awake.” Charles says, seeing Erik’s eyes flutter closed, “I’ll have Hank check you out, and then you can rest, okay?”

“‘Kay…” Erik mumbles.

“Holy fuck! Alex, have you seen this?” Sean exclaims, thrusting his phone into Alex’s face.

“Jeez, Sean! I…” Alex trails off, eyes widening. “That’s the protest the girls were at today, right?”

Sean nods. “And Charles. They arrested the gunman like, five minutes ago, after she shot Magneto!”

“She shot Magneto?”

“She shot Magneto!”

Alex groans, “Is it just me, or has this been a really weird week?”

With that, the front door opens with a bang.

“Where’s Hank?” Raven asks, as she and Angel drag a semi-lucid Erik Lehnsherr into the house.

“Upstairs,” Sean says, “What’s going on? We saw something about a shooter?”

“Hank!” Raven bellows, running up the stairs and leaving Angel and Charles to help Erik to the couch.

“If Hank says you need to go, I’m taking you to the hospital.” Charles says, squeezing Erik’s hand.

Erik shudders, thinking of Shaw’s office. “I’m fine.”

Charles decides not to press the issue, just squeezing his hand again and trying to push over a little bit of comforting mental energy.

“What’s happening? What-” Hank does a double take as he enters the room, “Is that-?”

“Yes, that’s Erik Lehnsherr. Hank, he’s been shot with a cure dart.”

The next twenty minutes or so passes in a blur, a haze in which Erik’s wound is cleaned and bandaged, it’s deduced that he doesn’t need any professional medical attention as long as he keeps it clean, and he should be able to sleep off the side effects of the cure. The actual cure part should wear off after about a week.

Charles manages to get Erik upstairs, feeling his adrenaline begin to fade to pure exhaustion. A day ago, or even a few hours ago, he would’ve scoffed at the idea of holding Erik in his arms again. Now, it’s a necessity.

We’re okay, Charles breathes a sigh of relief, Erik’s chest rising and falling slowly against his, the man succumbing to sleep. He lets his own eyes drift closed, and soon enough the both of them are gone.

Erik opens his eyes, feeling movement next to him.

“Sorry, darling, didn’t mean to wake you…” Charles apologizes, voice hushed. “Go back to sleep.”

“What’re you doing?” Erik mumbles, as Charles continues to reach over him, fumbling for something on the nightstand.

“Just need some Tylenol. It’s in the drawer.”

Erik sits up. “Are you okay?”

“Just a headache. It’s a telepathy thing, don’t worry about it.”

Erik opens the drawer, feeling around inside until he finds a pill bottle.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t you need water?”

“Nuh-uh,” there’s the sound of the bottle being uncapped, and a silence as Charles, presumably, swallows.

“That’s dangerous.” Erik has half a mind to grumble, but he puts the bottle back for him and lays down again, curling his arms around Charles.

“Mmhm… go to sleep.”

Charles awakes to sunlight flooding in through the blinds and the sound of Erik’s voice.

“Mama, mir geht es gut! Ich bin jetzt in Sicherheit…"

Charles can hear Edie through the phone, scolding Erik for not calling.

“Ich bin bei Charles. Einer seiner Mitbewohner ist Medizinstudent. Er sorgte dafür, dass es mir gut ging… Ja, wir haben uns versöhnt… Ich werde bald zu Hause sein. Ich liebe dich, Mama.” Erik hangs up the phone, sighing, gaze drifting down to Charles.

He smiles up at him. “Morning, darling.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you. How’s your headache?”

Charles sighs, pressing his fingers into his temples. “It’s alright. Should be better once I get some food. What time is it, anyways?”

“Twelve thirty.” Erik shrugs, then winces, feeling the wound in his shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” Charles asks, pushing himself up so he can inspect the bandages. Erik’s sweatshirt and shirt have both been cut away from the collar to the top of the sleeve on his right side, revealing a diminutive bandage, considering the effects of the dart.

“...Fine.” Erik says, avoiding eye contact.

“Let’s try that again. How are you feeling?”

“Fuzzy.” Erik admits. “It’s strange, not being able to sense metal.”

“I’d imagine it would be. I really don’t know what I would do without being able to get an emotional read on a conversation.” Charles tries to joke, but he can feel the mood turn somber. He leans close to Erik, letting their foreheads touch as he cups the other man’s face in his hands. “Thank you, Erik, for saving me yesterday.”

Erik just nods, then moves forward, pressing their lips together.

Charles isn’t really sure which one of them starts tearing up first, but soon the kiss turns into an embrace, his face pressed into Erik’s good shoulder, Erik shaking a little in his grasp.

“I…” Erik begins to say, “I… Ich liebe dich, Charles. I love you.”

“Oh, Erik, darling,” Charles huffs a laugh, somewhere between crying and grinning. “Ich liebe dich auch.”

Erik laughs, too, and holds him closer. (It takes him a full minute to realize that Charles had responded in a language other than English.

“You speak German?”

“I’m a telepath. I speak anything. You have your tricks, I have mine.”)

Everyone’s hanging out downstairs when Raven hears the wheelchair lift.

“Finally,” She exclaims. “I was getting worried about them.”

“They probably weren’t sleeping the whole time,” Sean says, waggling his eyebrows in a very ridiculous fashion. Angel smacks him with her magazine.

“I should, probably, uh-” Alex starts to stand from his spot at the breakfast bar, but at that very moment Charles rolls into the room. And not alone.

“Everyone, I know you’ve sort of met him already, but, officially, this is Erik!” Charles practically announces, and Raven half expects him to do jazz hands and yell “ta-da!”

“Hi,” Erik nods at them.

In any normal circumstance, everyone probably would’ve been a little intimidated, with his dark gaze and generally, well, in-your-face kind of presence. It’s Magneto, who wouldn’t be?

Except, Magneto’s wearing a big, oversized, pastel-purple hoodie and plaid pajama pants that are far too short for him, and Charles is smiling up at him like he’s the most adorable thing to grace the planet, and, honestly, on second glance, he looks a little nervous. Huh.

He clears his throat after a second of silence. “It’s a, uh, pleasure to meet you all.”

“You too, man!” Sean says excitedly. “Hey, want some pancakes? We’ve got leftovers!”

Chapter Text

“I’m Sean,” He introduces himself, taking the pyrex container with this morning’s leftover pancakes out of the fridge. “And then that’s Hank, Raven, Angel, oh, and you know Alex already.”

Alex puts his head in his hands.

“I know.” Erik says quietly, “I’ve actually been, well, a fan of you all, for years.”

“Really?” Angel exclaims, jaw dropping. Erik nods.

“Hey, can I just say something really quick?” Raven asks, holding up a hand to silence the already silent room.

“Raven…” Charles warns.

“Shh.” She rolls her eyes at her brother, then turns her gaze to the other man. “Look. You’re the reason he’s been depressed for a week. If you ever break his heart again, I swear to god, they’ll never find your body.”

“Raven!” Charles’s face is aghast.

“No, I second that!” Angel chimes in.

“Me too!” Sean says.

“Me as well,” Hank nods at them, eying Erik warily.

“C’mon, guys,” Alex mumbles, “That whole thing wasn’t his fault…” He glances at Erik and Charles, looking ready to dig a hole and start burrowing directly to the center of the earth.

“Not exactly, no.” Charles says quietly. He’s not trying to spite Alex – really, he blames himself for being careless more than Alex for just going about his normal activities. He’s just… acknowledging the fact that it’s not Erik’s fault. Just to hopefully garner some sympathies for his boyfriend.

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry, Erik. I didn’t mean for… any of that to happen.” Alex says.

Erik nods, “Thank you.”

He’s not really sure he’s at the forgiving part of this yet – considering all the shit he’s gone through the past week. Even aside from everything with Charles, he’s been suffering through losing followers on every major social media platform and endless jabs and jokes and blatant slander from all manners of media outlets, from TikTok to Fox News. Emma, who, really, at this point, is practically his publicity manager, has been beside herself trying to get him to act “anything less than hostile.” It’s been a constant headache.

But Alex really does seem sorry.

“Okay! Here ya go!” Sean takes the pancakes out of the microwave and plops a few onto a plate, which he proudly presents to Erik with a giant grin.

“Thank you,” Erik says, offering him a small smile of his own. Sean nods excitedly, then asks if he wants syrup.

“Oh my god, guys, did you hear?” Raven says, after Erik is sitting at the kitchen table with Charles, who’s grabbed his own plate of pancakes and started some water for tea. “Darwin was at the protest yesterday!”

“No, seriously?” Alex says, looking more interested in this conversation than he’s been in anything for weeks.

“Oh, man! Too bad you didn’t go – you could’ve met your boyfriend!” Sean laughs.

“Darwin’s this mutant model-slash-TikTokker chap we all love,” Charles explains to Erik, who has a strange expression on his face.

“I think I met him,” He admits, thinking back to Emma’s friends. “The ‘adapt to survive’ guy, right?”

“That’s him!” Charles grins. “Well, now that you’re buddies, you’ll have to introduce us.”

Erik scoffs, “We’re hardly ‘buddies…’” Charles is practically doing puppy eyes at him. “...I’ll see what I can do.”

“Aw, thank you, darling!” Charles smiles, and they start in on their pancakes quietly, letting everyone else chatter around them, banishing any awkwardness lingering in the room for good (though Erik’s pretty sure Sean’s sniped at least one video of him eating his pancakes. He’s too tired to say anything about it).

“Oh my gosh, Charles, it’s your Erik song!” Raven calls after they’re done eating, a new song playing over the speakers.

“You have a song for me?” Erik smirks at Charles, who’s blushing.

“No.” He mumbles.

“Nuh-uh! You’ve been listening to it on repeat ever since you started going out!” Raven insists, grabbing the remote and turning up the volume.

Erik listens to the lyrics – Something about letting friends crash in the living room and always being close. “What is it?”

“Lover, by Taylor Swift,” Raven answers.

Erik frowns, trying to place the name with a face. “That’s the lady who had Dazzler opening for her, right?”

“Yeah! She’s awesome. I can’t believe you don’t know this!” Raven, Angel, and Sean all laugh.

“Our song, huh?” Erik turns back to Charles, smiling a little. “Why’s that?”

Charles sighs, “Just… wait for it, it’s here in the bridge.”

Raven and Angel’s eyes widen, apparently knowing what he’s talking about. “Oh my god, you’re such a dork!” Raven squeals.

“‘I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover!’” Angel sings along with the lyric, and Charles buries his head in his hands.

“‘All’s well that ends well to end up with you,’” He mumbles, in perfect timing with the lyric. Erik grins, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“I love it.” He says. And really, he does. Now he’s going to be listening to this song on repeat, thinking about how fucking adorable his boyfriend is. “Though I’m hardly any kind of magnetic force right now.”

Hank perks up, “That’s right; how are you feeling? The serum should be stabilized now.”

Erik nods. “I’m doing fine. Thank you for the help yesterday.”

“Of course.” Hank’s practically blushing – Magneto is thanking him. “I was glad to. Well, not that I was glad you- That’s not what I-”

“What Hank’s trying to say is that even though he thinks you’re a certifiably insane extremist, he’s glad you’re feeling better.” Raven clarifies, making Hank turn an even deeper shade of blue.

“As long as we’re on the same page,” Erik says, giving Hank one of his more shark-y smirks. Making Charles’s roommates squirm might be kind of fun, actually, if he’s forced to spend more time around them now. He turns back to his boyfriend, “I should go. My mom-”

“Go. Actually, wait, I’ll drive you. You shouldn’t be walking.” Charles wheels over to a shelf by the door, grabbing his keys from a box, as Erik stands and puts their plates in the sink.

“I’ll get those!” Sean says, practically pushing him out of the way.

“Oh. Thank you.”

“‘Course, man. Nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” Erik says, then walks to follow Charles out the door.

“Sorry about them.” Charles sighs, as soon as they’re in the car. “They’re certifiable.”

“They care about you.”

Charles shrugs, smiling as he starts the car. “Yeah. We’re our own messy little family, I suppose.”

“That’s nice. Really. I… I don’t have many friends, besides you.”

Charles reaches over, taking his hand. “Well. They may be certifiable, but I’m sure everyone would love to get to know you. You should… I don’t know, come over for our movie nights, or something.”

Erik squeezes his hand, bringing it to his lips for a quick kiss, “That sounds nice, Lieber, thank you.”

And, to his surprise, he’s not lying. Charles smiles like he knows what he’s thinking (maybe he does) and starts the car.

Chapter Text

“Hey, want to grab a coffee at Krakoa?” Erik asks when they're two blocks away.

“Darling, is it wise to keep Edie waiting?” Charles glances at him.

No. Erik just shrugs, “Please?” He’s had no caffeine today and it’s nearly two thirty. And, as much as he loves his mother, he’s never really ready to be yelled at in three languages, something that happens every single time his activism gets sketchy or a protest goes south.

“Well. Alright. But we’re getting it to go.”

“Danke, Liebling.”

“Gern geschehen,” Charles replies with a smile.

“Das ist es. Wir werden kein Englisch mehr sprechen.”

Charles laughs, and damn if it’s not the best thing Erik’s ever heard. He really missed him in the past week.

Krakoa is just as beautiful and bustling as it was the day of their first date. This time, however, Charles can see some of the patrons stealing glances at them. Every phone in someone’s hand makes him want to drag Erik back to his house and wrap him up in a pile of blankets, safe and away from the prying eyes of the outside world.

“Erik!” A voice calls, right as they’re about to get in line. Charles turns to see a woman waving them over to her table table.

“Hey, Emma.” Erik says, walking over. “Hi… everyone.” He glances over the rest of the people (at least one of whom is clearly a mutant, sporting red skin and a pointed tail) sitting at the table, mouth drawn in a flat line. If Charles didn’t know him well, he’d assume he disapproved of the group. But he does know him well, and that particular face means Erik’s nervous. Intimidated, even.

Charles wishes he could reach over and take his hand; he’s just not sure where they stand on the PDA thing right now.

“Glad you made it out okay, man,” One of the people says, clapping Erik on the shoulder. “We were worried about you.”

Wait… that’s Darwin. Bloody hell.

“So. Are you going to introduce us to your friend?” The woman – Emma – says, looking up at Erik with a teasing gaze. Clearly, she already knows who Charles is.

Erik sighs a bone-weary sigh, “Charles, this is Emma Frost, Azazel, Janos, and Darwin,” and levels a glare at Emma.

Charles grins at the group, “Charles Xavier. A pleasure to meet all of you.”

Emma sticks out her hand for a shake.

I’ve heard a lot about you.

Charles gasps, then smiles. Another telepath! How truly splendid to meet you.

Likewise, sugar.

Charles considers shielding his next thought from her, then realizes it’s probably too late, she’s seen the beginnings of it – and decides to put it into words anyways. Have you met others?

A mental shake of the head, so to speak. I’ve heard of them. It seems telepaths are few and far between.

It does seem so.

I’ve known some precogs, however! And a lot of mutants with various telekinetic powers, like your boyfriend’s. Emma gives a little shrug. She knows it’s not the same; telekinetic types like Erik and precogs are closer to telepaths than other mutants are – their gifts stemming from their minds – but it’s a far cry from the weight and responsibility that comes with having to see and feel everyone around you on such an invasive, personal level.

Oh, yes, precogs! My sister, Raven, dated a lovely precog back in high school. I quite liked her, actually, despite the fact that she was dating my little sister. He had liked Irene. Her humor was sharp and sarcastic, and she never failed to make Raven feel better about her mutation or drama at school or even just smile.

An impression of laughter rings in his mind, and it’s a pleasant sensation. He smiles, sending some warmth back.

“What’s going on here?” Erik asks, and Charles pulls himself back to the physical world, where Emma’s already rolling her eyes at him.

“Oh, honestly, sugar. If anything, he’s the one who should be worried, considering I’m your best friend.”

Erik’s cheeks turn a noticeable shade of red, though the rest of his face stays impassive. “Charles knows what I think of him.”

Emma raises an eyebrow, “No, he doesn’t,” directing her attention to Charles, “Those are some pretty high shields you have, sugar. I’m surprised you’ve got a read on anyone at all.”

Erik turns a quizzical look on him, and Charles just barely manages to shrug. “I- I suppose so.”

“Well-”

Erik cuts her off, “Actually, Emma, we’re in a bit of a time crunch right now; if you’ll excuse us.”

She nods, giving them both a smile. “Certainly.” So nice to meet you, sugar. Oh, and, if you hurt Erik, I’ll kill you. He’s been through a lot. He doesn’t need any more pain.

That seems fair; Though, trust me, I will never deliberately do anything to hurt Erik. All I want is his happiness.

Good.

The rest of the group waves goodbye – Darwin included (Charles is going to have to focus on that later) and Erik and him head over to the line, which, thankfully, is short.

“What did she mean by that? Shields?” Erik asks quietly.

“I thought you said we weren’t speaking in English anymore?” Charles laughs uncomfortably.

“I think it’s only fair to have this conversation in your native tongue,” Erik reasons, “Charles. You know I accept your mutation. It’s a part of you, and I… Well, I love every part of you. If you’re shielding from me for any specific reasons, I’d like to know, so I can correct myself.”

Charles shakes his head. “Erik, it’s not you. I… I suppose I’m just in the habit of it. Raven, she told me to stay out of her head at a very young age, and I’ve spent my life since then having people fear me, distrust me. I’m used to shielding.”

“But you don’t have to. Not with me. Please, Charles, I want to know you. Really know you. And your mutation is a part of you.”

“I…” Charles doesn’t quite know what to say.

His whole life has been “get out” and “stay away” and “what if he tells?” “Does he know?” “He’s cheating.” "Freak."

Mutant and proud has never been for him.

And yet, here’s Erik, inviting him.

“Thank you, darling.” He breathes. Erik smiles softly, reaching out a hand to stroke the stray locks hanging on Charles’s forehead. It makes his heart race, the thrill of Erik touching him like this in public, such an open endearment.

“Don’t thank me,” He says. “You shouldn’t have to.”

Erik smiles, knowing Charles would have a field day with this.

He’s going to go to whatever lengths necessary to make sure Emma never, ever gets his number.

Chapter Text

“Scoooooooooooooore!” Sean screams, voice edging a few pitches higher than is comfortable for everyone else in the room, conversation stopping for a second to allow everyone to wince and rub their ears, then resuming as though nothing had happened. Alex had already accidently set a beanbag chair on fire earlier, when Azazel teleported right behind him and scared “the bejesus” out of him. In a party full of mutants, nothing was too startling (Except the fact that Sean actually got a point in ping-pong).

At least, Erik had assumed it was a party full of mutants. But here he is, about thirty minutes into a conversation with one of Charles’s classmates, Moira Mactaggert, and he found out she’s a baseline five ago.

Unfortunately, he’s having a hard time disliking her – she’s smart, no-nonsense, with a dry sense of humor a lot like his own. It’s a little weird, a human studying mutant genetics, but so far she’s shown a lot of respect to mutants and their rights issues. She’s even pro-telepath.

Glad to see you’re making friends, love. Charles’s voice floats into his head with the faint impression of a smirk. Broadening your horizons. It’s good.

Why in the world would you invite a baseline to our party? Erik can barely even manage a pissed-off tone. God, he’s going soft.

I don’t see what difference it makes. Besides, she does have a mutated MCR1 gene, just like you.

You’re going to have to fill me in here.

Auburn hair.

Really, Charles? Really?

A faint feeling of laughter rings in his mind, and then Charles comes up beside him, accompanied by Emma.

“I see you’ve met Erik,” He says with a smile, attention directed towards his classmate. Moira smiles back at him.

“We’ve been having a great conversation about our work.”

“Oh, how lovely!” Charles looks up at Erik, “And what do you think of it, darling?”

Erik sighs, smiling affectionately and giving into the urge to rest his hand on Charles’s shoulder after approximately 0.000001 seconds fighting it. “It’s very interesting.”

Charles’s grin widens, then he turns back to Moira. “Moira, have you met Emma?”

“No, I haven’t!” Moira smiles at Emma, extending a hand, “Moira Mactaggert, pleasure to meet you.”

Emma shakes it, “Emma Frost. Likewise, sugar.”

“Moira is a classmate of Charles’s,” Erik says.

“Oh?” Emma inquires, and Moira’s eyes light up as she launches back into her rant about genome sequencing.

Erik grins, and tugs at Charles's shoulder in an attempt to come away from the other people. Charles rolls his eyes at him but excuses them from the conversation, Moira and a surprisingly interested Emma waving them away with barely a second glance, though Emma does send a smirk Erik’s way. She’s definitely hearing some of his thoughts about how absolutely delectable his boyfriend looks tonight, especially in that lilac shirt, a few buttons left undone revealing his collarbone…

“What is it, darling?” Charles asks as soon as they arrive on the other side of the staircase, the single fixture in the wall-less downstairs mostly blocking them from view. His left eyebrow twitches upwards, and his tone has a teasing edge that makes Erik suspect he’s read his mind already.

“What? I can’t kiss my boyfriend at a party?” Erik asks, and Charles’s lips quirk into a smile, his tongue darting out between them for a second as Erik watches intently (he knows he’s watching).

“Well. I certainly have nothing against it,” Charles says, and pulls him down by the collar of his shirt.

At the point when Sean accidentally interrupts them, Erik fully sitting in Charles’s lap, hands tangled in his hair (he’s growing it out, now. It’s proven to be curly and voluminous and Erik’s a little obsessed), they decide to go upstairs for some more privacy. The party’s been going on for a few hours now, and there’s only about fifteen people there. They’ve made the rounds, talked to everyone, played ping-pong. And now Erik wants to spend some time with Charles, just Charles – they’ve both been so swamped with homework, he hasn’t seen him as much lately.

“May I?” Erik waves his hand, and Charles nods. He makes a point to ask before moving his wheelchair. He should’ve seen that boundary before, and understood it wasn’t meant to be crossed. Now, though, Charles has him float his chair up stairs and such, making jokes about how he wishes he was a precog instead of a telepath and hadn’t done all that renovating.

“Huh,” Charles says as soon as they’re in the hallway, and then points to one of the rooms. “Alex never closes his door. Ever.”

“You don’t think he’s…?”

“Oh, no, he definitely is. I can… feel the emotions.” Charles admits, then smirks. “Why don’t we get a little payback?”

“I thought you were against revenge?” Erik raises his eyebrows, “Are you sacrificing your morals, Charles? All for a boy? Really, what are people going to think?”

“I’m simply defending my honor.” Charles looks quite proud at his excuse, then whips out his phone. “Sean will want proof of this. You do the door slamming, my love.”

Erik nods. They approach the door, and then he flings out his hand.

Alex straight up shrieks, while Charles is doubled over laughing, the video shaking in his hand.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Alex yells.

“Absolutely nothing. I’d say we’re even now, wouldn’t you?” Charles grins amicably, then turns his attention to the other man. “Hi, Darwin, lovely to see you again.”

Darwin offers a cool smile, even though he looks a little shaken. “You too.”

“We’ll be off now. Have a good evening!”

“Fuck you!” Alex shouts as they walk away. Erik slams the door back closed. They go into Charles’s room in silence.

Charles glances at him. He glances back.

They burst into laughter.

“His face!” Charles wheezes. Erik laughs harder, then kneels to wrap his arms around the other man. “What’s this for?”

“For… I don’t know. For making me laugh. For making me make friends. For being the most amazing person ever.”

“Oh, darling,” Charles says, laughter dying off quickly and ruffling his hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Erik smiles, and kisses him. Then he makes sure to lock the door with his powers – they’re not taking any more chances. Not after exacting their revenge. “I’m so glad you put me on that cake.”

Charles laughs again, happiness swelling in his chest and radiating out through their mental bond. There’s really no place he’d rather be, than here with Erik. “Me, too.”