Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Charles took a sip of his drink, his eyes not averting from the bar. They were fixed there basically since he and Raven entered the place.

One of Raven’s friend recommended it to her as mutant-owned, mutant-run and good for their nights out. Despite being in their thirties they still talked and met frequently, whether only the two of them or with their mutual friends. Charles was really glad because of that.

Now they were sitting on a black couch in the corner, the leather a bit cracked in a few places. The bar seemed nice, though if Charles could change something, he’d definitely lower the volume of music. Majority of customers was definitely mutant – just as the person Charles had his eyes on.

Until now they were chatting with each other, and he listened to Raven’s story about one of her coworkers, but now he poked her with his elbow.

“See that bartender?” he asked, watching as the guy made a shaker float and move in the air with just a wave of hand.

“The red one?” Raven guessed, looking at the man similar to devil. “Angel said he can teleport”

“No, the other one” he corrected her.

“The one that looks like he’s about to die?”

“Mhm” he murmured, prolonging the sound. Raven raised her eyebrow at him – something she often did when they were out and someone caught Charles’ eye.

“Seriously?” she said, as if she didn’t know him. “He’s like fifty”

Well, that was a great exaggeration.

“And?” he asked despite that, wanting to tease Raven a bit. She made a face that said something similar to I swear to god, you slut, but she let out a chuckle.

“I actually hate your taste in men, you know”

This time Charles was the one to chuckle. He watched his sister take a sip of alcohol.

“Do you want another drink, Raven?” he asked, his eyes coming back to the bar.

“I didn’t even finish this one”

“You’ll have time for that. I’m planning on spending a moment or two there”

Raven rolled her eyes.

“Go, seduce that guy or whatever” she muttered, her voice absolutely bored, making Charles laugh. He grabbed his cane and left his sister on the couch.

He quickly found himself sitting at a bar stool. He didn’t have to wait long for the bartender to notice him.

Contrary to what Raven said, he didn’t look like he’s about to die. More like collapse. But Charles didn’t pay much attention to the heavy eye bags. He focused on the broad shoulders, defined, square jaw, a bit curly, brown hair with some grey strands visible, on the kind of bored expression and the steel-colored eyes that just met his. He had no idea how Raven could not see how fine the man was.

Now, when he got a closer look, he realized that he might be around forty. Charles thought that he would appear younger without the short beard and clear signs of not getting a good night’s sleep.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asked, his voice deep and a bit hoarse, but surprisingly polite. Charles’ mind immediately gave him a few ideas what he could make this voice say, what sounds he can get out of his mouth.

Charles also decided to calm the fuck down, because he’s not this drunk (maybe just tipsy), and not this much of a slut.

“One daiquiri, please” he said, not breaking eye contact with the guy, but keeping his eyes just a bit lidded, and a smile on his face. The barman’s face was neutral.

That’s when Charles realized that he can’t sense anything coming from him.

Intrigued, he reached out with his telepathy a bit, not entering his mind, but focusing on it. Charles involuntarily picked up other people’s emotions – it seemed like projecting was not-telepath’s natural state – with his power. He could, of course, mostly block out those sensations, but now he aimed to flirt with the guy, and it would be nice to know how he reacted to it for sure. People tended to lie in so many situations Charles found himself relying more on what they felt than what they said.

Here, though, he could only feel something, very weakly, if he concentrated purely on the guy’s mind. He was sure he’d have no problem in entering it, but he had no reason or intention of doing so. Did the stranger have a mutation allowing him to shield his mind this way or was he also a psychic?

He watched as the man made drinks for a moment before speaking again.

“Busy day?” he asked offhandedly, his eyes not averting from him for a second. The most mundane way of starting a talk ever, but one that worked. Since he couldn’t tell what the man feels, he decided to play it safe.

“Not busier than usual” he replied. He was not surprised that this stranger with eyes so blue they seemed radioactive tried to initiate a conversation. Many clients did, and Erik learned that indulging in what clients want could earn him a higher tip.

He used his power to make the shaker move. For him it always felt more effective than doing it manually, and sometimes caught client’s eye. Again, tips.

“Telekinesis?” the man asked, still not taking his eyes off him. Should Erik be flattered or concerned?

“Metallokinesis, actually” Erik corrected him. He raised his eyebrows.

“So, you can control metal?”

“And magnetic fields”

Charles nodded, already interested. Hot guy, fascinating power… why isn’t Charles already asking him for his number?

“All metals or just ferromagnetic ones?” he questioned before he could think it through. Then he mentally slapped himself; he was supposed to flirt, not talk science. God. Embarrassing.

The bartender looked at him like he couldn’t believe this was the thing he asked about. Erik decided to survey him again, this time focusing a bit more on his appearance. Ultra blue eyes, dark brown hair, freckles on his nose and cheeks, pretty soft features. He was actually very handsome, and Erik knew an attempt at flirting when he saw one. Even if that particular guy got sidetracked during it.

“All” he replied.

“So magnetic fields are unrelated to metal control?” Charles blurted out. Stupid fucking moron, you were meant to flirt with him, not bore him with mutation-talk!

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you” Erik said, raising his eyebrow.

So many absolutely terrible magnet-related pick-up lines swirled in Charles’ head he almost laughed out loud.

“Oh, I would love to see what you could do” he said, his tone indicating that he does not mean Erik’s power.

The bartender set the drink in front him. Charles noticed a bit chipped, dark green nail polish. He would say that’s a good sign regarding the man’s possible queerness.

“Thank you, gorgeous” Charles said, his smile as flirtatious as it could be.

“Erik” he introduced himself. He wondered if he’s going to regret it.

“Thank you, Erik” Charles repeated.

Erik thought that his name sounds surprisingly soft in his mouth, the “r” round and a little bit prolonged. The guy’s accent was definitely British.

“I’m Charles” the blue-eyed man said. “And I’m still curious about the… magnetic fields”

Erik decided that he could satisfy his curiosity.

★★★★★

The guy – Charles – kept accosting him, and Erik found himself responding, strangely enough. Maybe it was the appeal, handsome features and flirty remarks. Erik didn’t date, hasn’t been for years, but sometimes a quick hookup with particularly attractive clients – sober enough to know what they want and stubborn enough to actually get it – happened. Rarely, though. Less and less in the past years. He just didn’t have energy and time for that.

Charles was not strident, but his flirting – which got significantly better once he stopped getting distracted with Erik’s mutation – only got more intense over time. Erik wondered whether he’s so fascinated because he’s one of the more open humans or just a curious mutant.

“When does your shift end?” Charles asked, his hand turning a glass with liquor. This time it was whiskey with ice, and he was getting definitely more than just tipsy.

“Too late for you to stay here and still be conscious” he replied. Charles laughed, his other hand brushing through his hair. He licked his lips, looking at Erik with clear arousal.

“Well, good thing that tomorrow’s another day” he said, smiling. “I hope you aren’t too busy?”

Erik really didn’t know what was going on in his head when he said that no, he’s not busy (which was not entirely the truth), and gave Charles his number. Clearly not a lot – and Charles probably could say the same thing, because when Erik looked at the tip he left he almost wanted to go after him to say “hey, you added one too much 0”. Then he decided that a drunk man’s mistake was not his problem. On the contrary, for him it was beneficial, and he was not stupid altruistic enough to care.

★★★★★

The next morning Erik had already forgotten about the situation. He gulped down his bitter coffee without enthusiasm, leaning against the counter and looking at his children. They were sitting at the table and eating breakfast, though “eating” might be a bit of an exaggeration. Pietro was more playing with the food, moving it on the plate with his fork, his leg bouncing at the speed of about 30mph. Nina was staring out the window at two pigeons, and Erik was pretty sure that she was listening to their conversation. Wanda stopped with her fork in the air, the food had fallen from it back to her plate, and her eyes were fixed on a textbook laid out on the table.

“A reminder that you have ten minutes till the bus” he said. Wanda shot him a tired look, took two bites and came back to her book.

“A test today?” he asked, aiming to get something more than one glance out of her.

“Yes. And I know nothing and I’m going to fail” she whined, brushing her hair back. Pietro eyed her with an expression saying yeah, sure.

“I’m certain you’re not going to fail”

“Then I’m going to get a D. There’s no difference”

“There’s a huge difference” Pietro muttered, immediately moving at super speed to avoid getting elbowed by his sister. The chair he sat on wobbled. Nina turned her head to see whether he falls down or not, and went back to looking at the pigeons when it turned out that he won’t.

“One D is not the end of the world, sweetheart” Erik said, rinsing his cup before putting it in the sink. Pietro raised his eyebrow.

“What kind of double standards is this? When I get a D it is the end of the world”

“Because you get a little too much of them”

While Wanda excelled at school, Pietro didn’t do as good. Of course Erik would be happy if he managed better, but he knew he couldn’t put too much pressure on him. He had other reasons to be proud – Pietro did good in sports, even though at least once a semester someone insisted he should be banned from some kind of team or competition because of his mutation and the unfair advantage it gave him. Still, Erik expected better than a D. He thought that his son himself should have ambitions for something more.

Soon they all left the flat, the kids for school and Erik for work.

Erik didn’t spend the most time with his children, certainly less than he’d like. Having two jobs didn’t really help with that.

He didn’t even know how did he, an electrician, ended up working as a bartender. Figuratively, that is, because obviously he did remember handing in his CV and getting that job. He was looking for a job, then he found a job, and heavens know he’s miserable now, or however that song went. A bit too much like his life, he feared. Especially the part about being miserable.

Erik managed. Alright? He did. He might be sleep deprived, but as long as he was able to make ends meet it was fine. He didn’t even work full-time at the bar, because he probably wouldn’t survive as long while getting like three hours of sleep a day. It was not ideal, but he managed – perhaps at the cost of his health, though it didn’t seem especially high to him. Rent for a three-bedroom apartment wasn’t the cheapest, there was school, ADHD medication for Pietro, constant new clothes for his growing kids, every bigger and smaller expense he could cover only if he kept both of the jobs. It was fine.

Everything Erik did, he did for his kids. So they don’t have to worry about anything other than schoolwork and their social life, the typical problems children have. So they can develop their passions, attend any extracurricular and club they want, so they can go on school trips now and to a good college in the future. So that he never has to tell them “I’m sorry, I can’t afford that” like his parents had to when he was a child. Everything he did, he did for them. Even if it was hard to be a present father while simultaneously having two jobs, he managed; and he will manage for the next years just like he’s done it until now.

★★★★★

Erik might have forgotten about the conversation with Charles, but it seemed that Charles didn’t. In the afternoon, when he was making dinner – tofu with vegetables and sweet and sour sauce (he learned to make a lot of vegetarian dishes, because since Nina’s power manifested she refused to eat meat under any circumstances, which Erik understood) – he got a text from a number saved as “Charles X”.

Charles X:  Hi, Erik. Charles here, from the bar. I hope we can still meet up?

Erik frowned, stirring in the pan. Huh. That guy really decided to text him. Maybe he was less drunk than Erik had thought yesterday.

Erik:  I didn’t think you’ll remember about that.

Charles X:  How could I forget about such a stunning man?

Erik rolled his eyes. He had more important things to do than fucking with a random guy from the bar, but it looked like he was the only one with this mindset.

Charles X:  The next weekend works for you? Saturday evening, perhaps?

Woah, he really was dedicated. Or stubborn. Or a desperate slut. There were many options for Erik to consider.

The most important choice right now was: does he agree or not? Theoretically there was nothing stopping him from that. Charles was handsome, nice and one hookup never caused him any problems. Maybe he could spend his free evening like that. On the other hand, he couldn’t help but feel a little weird that someone like that took interest in him. Charles was definitely younger than him, absurdly pretty, dressed too sharp for the kind of bar Erik worked in. Meanwhile Erik was perfectly aware that he didn’t look the best – he stopped caring much about his appearance long time ago. Well, he’s not going to judge anyone’s preferences, but… yeah, actually, he was judging. Heavily.

Erik:  Sure.

Was this a bad decision? Possibly. He will find out soon.

He began to think that it might have been a be bad choice when he got another text in the evening. A couple of them, actually. Charles told him the hour and place, and that was fine, but the next one made him feel confused.

Charles X:  Wear something fancy

Erik furrowed his eyebrows, typing “how fancy?”

Charles X:  More than me at the bar

Last time they met Charles was wearing a shirt, tailored suit pants and a vest. A vest.

Erik:  So, a suit?

Charles X:  It would be good

Erik scoffed to himself quietly. A suit. For a hookup. Maybe Charles had a thing for formal attire, because surely he couldn’t think that this was going to be a date.

★★★★★

Turns out, Charles did think it was going to be a date.

Or at least it looked like he thought so. The address he sent Erik – which he foolishly didn’t google – turned out to be a restaurant. One that Erik would never even consider entering on his own.

Fuck.

He thanked himself for deciding to take a wallet. What kind of ridiculous situation had he gotten himself into? He shouldn’t have agreed to that meeting. He should’ve known to stay home when Pietro asked him where is he going all dressed up (Erik replied that he has a meeting; Pietro said “you mean a date?”, and Erik felt a strong urge to stick his tongue out at him, but he was a grown man and chose to act like one).

He begged some higher force to send a meteorite and annihilate the place, but nothing came to save him. Of fucking course.

He hesitantly entered the place, cursing it, cursing Charles and cursing himself.

Erik ended up sitting at a two-person table, ordering one of the cheapest options in the menu and trying to keep his tone offhanded while responding to Charles’ chatter. Telling him that this is not a date had proven to be a more difficult task than Erik thought it to be, because Charles was, well, talkative – and Erik, hilariously and strangely enough, found himself not annoyed by it.

“Hello, Erik. Got some more sleep this time?” were the first words Charles said to him. Erik decided that correcting him was not worth it. He didn’t got more sleep, he just dig up a concealer when Charles texted him about dressing fancy. The last time he used it was probably one of the parent-teacher conferences he actually attended. He needed to be presentable there – and now. The nail polish was also gone. Perhaps it will be there again tomorrow; if not, maybe in a week. When Wanda was little she’d paint his and Magda’s nails during the weekends. Then Nina joined them, and a few years later Wanda seemingly quit their tradition. Erik told himself that he didn’t mind – she was fourteen, she had other things to do.

Erik listened to Charles talk for a moment, though his words were a bit hard to focus on when he had things to think through.

Charles was… nice. Very. It felt shallow to describe him like that, but it was the easiest way – and the first one that came to Erik’s mind when he started wondering about it for some bizarre reason. He felt the urge to ask Charles why he’s acting like that. Even if he had no idea how to define “like that”, and why it was bothering him. Or whether it was bothering him at all. He didn’t know if it does, it just seemed strange.

He learned that Charles is also a mutant, a telepath at that. That information made him visualize a steel box he locked his thoughts in. It was primitive, but metal was something he had control over – and it made him feel like he also has control over who can see his thoughts. He had nothing against Charles’ mutation per se, just a lot of against someone who was basically a stranger seeing what was inside his mind.

As it turned out, his concern was unnecessary.

“You might not know” Charles said, his blue gaze moving from his plate to Erik “but most people tend to radiate their emotions. I can feel them without entering their minds or any conscious effort. But I can’t feel anything coming from you. It’s not anything bad, of course, I was just wondering why. Do you think you could have a secondary mutation? One allowing you to block out telepaths?”

“Oh, no” Erik replied, chuckling. Was this why Charles decided to talk to him in the first place? Curiosity about why can’t he read him? That would explain everything: the fact that he actually reached out, invitation to a restaurant, being so nice. “My daughter has some psychic abilities. I learned how to not project long time ago”

Daughter? Charles thought, but he shouldn’t be so surprised. After all, he was talking with Erik barely second time in his life.

“Well, that would explain it. My sister also has strong mental shields because of me” he said, and quickly changed the subject. Erik was glad because of that – his mind was not his favorite topic, and he and Charles had more interesting things to talk about. More neutral ones. Charles’ soft accent was much more pleasant to listen to than his thoughts.

★★★★★

“So” Charles said, his hand taking Erik’s jacket lapel and tugging at it slightly. They’ve just exited the restaurant, and Erik was fighting the urge to go away again. “My place? It’s a short walk from here”

Of course. Erik wouldn’t take him to his own flat. Not because he was ashamed or anything. Why on earth would he be ashamed of his small, cluttered flat in a not-the-best neighborhood in front of a man whose clothes alone were probably worth more than both of Erik’s paychecks – not counting the wristwatch, which looked like it was thrice as expensive – and fucking paid for him without a blink. Despite Erik’s protest, Charles insisted that he will pay since he was the one to invite Erik there.

Why would he ever be ashamed.

“No Porsche to flex?” he asked sarcastically to hide his embarrassment.

“I don’t want to cause a danger to the public” Charles replied, equally sarcastically. At least he didn’t get offended.

“Why would you?”

“I passed the test for my driver’s license at seventh try. I don’t think it would be economic to buy a Porsche with my questionable skills”

Erik chuckled, and Charles let go of his jacket. Soon they were walking side by side, still talking, and Erik wondered why is it so easy to chat with him about everything and nothing when normally he avoided interacting with people with all the (very little) energy he had.

Erik almost turned on his heel and left when he saw where Charles lived. Fucking posh… slut. Posh slut that didn’t need long to strip them both naked and get Erik under him on his bed. King-sized, even though Charles lived alone.

When Erik’s back hit the mattress, his head between Charles’ hands, he heard something bounce off it, and then a meow.

“Sorry” Charles said, smiling and getting off him. He stood up and opened the door. “Out, Nettie. I’m busy”

Erik chuckled, looking at a ragdoll cat tilt its head, eye him and trot out of the room.

“You let your cat on the bed?”

“I’d give her my credit card if she asked”

Erik laughed, but soon his mouth got occupied with something else.

Erik quickly discovered that Charles was unable to shut up even in bed. He kept running his mouth as he fucked Erik into oblivion, constantly saying how tight Erik is, how good he feels, how gorgeous he is. It made Erik go just a little bit insane.

Another thing that made him go insane was that at one point his leg moved on its own without his control, wrapping around Charles and pressing him closer. His arousal suddenly doubled, he felt as if he was both fucking and being fucked at the same time, and for a moment he was completely breathless.

“Oh god” he gasped, barely controlling his mouth enough to form words. “Fuck, Charles- ”

The feeling suddenly disappeared, and Erik couldn’t stop himself from whining with disappointment.

“Sorry. Telepathy. Hard to control” Charles muttered breathlessly.

“Do it again” Erik said without thinking about it for even a second. His mind fixated completely on the fact that Charles had just controlled him, used his body like a puppet. He had no power over it whatsoever. Oh god.

“What?”

“Just fucking do it” he moaned, his other leg wrapping around Charles’ body too. He needed Charles deeper inside him, both in his body and his mind.

Charles hesitantly entered his head, Erik’s sudden fascination by his power clear for him to see. That fascination revolved especially about what Charles could do with him. Charles was genuinely surprised by that – usually people were afraid of being controlled.

He quickly learned that it was not the case with Erik.

At first he was trying to be careful, but Erik didn’t give him any signs that he doesn’t want him in his head, so he quickly stopped holding back. It was truly amazing to use his powers so freely without hearing any opposition. And, if he’s going to be honest, it turned him on even more.

Erik didn’t protest as he readjusted his grip around him, as he projected what he feels or wants to do. If anything, he was eager to comply.

Erik was absolutely, utterly amazed. Charles was the one in charge of him. Charles was the one who did things with his body. It was not Erik’s responsibility anymore. Nothing that could possibly go wrong would be blamed on him if he wasn’t really in control. The ever-present option where he fucks things up suddenly disappeared. It was no longer his responsibility, no longer his body, no longer his fault. It was everything he could dream of.

Charles broke their telepathic connection as soon as they were finished.

They lied in Charles’ sheets (this fucking posh slut had silk sheets) for a moment, but Erik couldn’t let himself fall asleep and stay here, even if he had to (reluctantly) admit that it was comfortable. He had things he needed to do tomorrow. Things that would be his own actions again, and that would be completely his fault if they went wrong.

He stood up, still a little shaky. He found his clothes and began dressing up.

“Wait a moment, I’ll call a cab for you” Charles stated, not even suggested, getting up to look for his phone in his pockets.

Erik turned to him with a strange expression. Then he got a little distracted by the still naked man standing sideways to him.

“Don’t bother” he finally muttered. Such a ridiculous man, Charles was.

“Oh please, Erik. You’re not going to walk around the city at night” Charles said, not looking up from the phone screen.

“I can call a taxi for myself” he said, to which Charles just waved his hand dismissively.

“Don’t bother” Charles repeated after him, amusement clear in his voice (and in the smirk on his face). Such a ridiculous man. Calling a cab for the guy he hooked up with once. Paying in advance despite Erik’s protest, which was even worse. Did he not have better things to do with his money?

Ridiculous.

★★★★★

Charles X:  It was wonderful. I think we should repeat that someday.

Erik stared at his phone in confusion for a moment. He rubbed his face with his hand, sighing. It was too early for that.

He put his phone on the table and took a sip of his coffee, but he kept staring at the device, as if it could write a reply on its own.

Then he decided to make another possibly-bad choice.

Erik:  Sure, why not.

He didn’t have to wait long for an answer.

Charles X:  The next Saturday works for you?

Erik turned the phone off and looked around the room, as if he could find an answer there.

He needed to think it through.

Chapter Text

Sometimes they had pizza days.

“Pizza days” was more of a conventional name, because it started as pizza, but there were all sorts of takeout involved. It sounded nice, and it probably was for the children. Not so much for Erik, at least not in the present. Now he ordered in when he didn’t have strength headspace to do the simplest things, like making dinner. He often wasted the saved time staring blankly at the wall.

Not always, though. There were days when he managed to find enough energy to sit with his kids and bond with them a little. He would listen to their stories from school and raise an eyebrow in silence when they exchanged glances saying “wait, that’s the part he can’t hear”. He would try to keep up with the number of Nina’s new friends, because it looked like she decided to befriend every animal in the city. Erik was a bit concerned that his daughter has more animal than human acquaintances, but he was an introvert too, maybe she just took it after him. As long as she wasn’t feeling lonely, he would try to keep track of the names of pigeons, cats and other animals she talked to. And try to not worry too much, though it wasn’t easy.

Today was one of the days when Erik felt like lying on the floor and crumpling under the weight of his own existence like a wet newspaper on a sidewalk, so he just knocked at the left ajar door to the girls’ shared room. Then he poked his head through the door.

“How do you feel about a pizza day today?” he asked. Wanda turned around on her chair to look at him.

“Why not?” she muttered.

“So, what do you want?”

“Maybe actual pizza this time?” Nina suggested. “We got Chinese the past few times”

Wanda just shrugged, accepting the proposition.

“The usual?” Erik asked. It meant a vegetarian one and pepperoni one, with hot sauce Pietro ate in truly concerning amounts.

The girls confirmed, so he went to also ask Pietro (more just inform him, because even if he wanted something else, he’d lose the voting), already dialing the number to the closest pizzeria.

Erik knocked at the door an pushed it open when he heard an invitation. Pietro’s room was Nina’s old one – they moved places at some point, so the twins weren’t switching the beds they slept in every night (like they did when they were five) anymore. The walls were blue, and Erik’s eyes involuntarily averted to lopsided flowers painted on one of the walls. Wanda and Pietro drew them when they wanted to decorate their newborn sister’s room, and for some reason nobody bothered to cover them up. Erik didn’t think they really wanted to.

Pietro was sitting at the desk with an open notebook and laptop in front of him. Erik couldn’t be sure that he’s actually learning and not doing something else, but he had absolutely no intention of trying to investigate.

“Nina and Wanda want pizza for dinner” he said, looking at his son again. Pietro muttered something along the lines of “yeah, okay” and turned back to whatever he was doing.

Erik hesitated in the doorway for a moment, but after a second or two he just left, sighing quietly.

There was a time when Pietro was more eager to talk to him. Maybe it was the fact that he was a teenager, maybe that they spent less time together now. Or maybe Erik just didn’t stop his son from falling when it actually mattered.

He remembered it so vividly like it happened yesterday, not nine years ago. He remembered the way wind played with Magda’s and Wanda’s brown locks, and the way the girl was sitting with her arms crossed on her chest. She was mad, because they decided that Pietro will be the one that first tries riding a bike. They only had one, so she was forced to wait, her only entertainment being watching her brother or her little sister. Admittedly toddlers weren’t very interesting for a five-year old to watch, and she turned her head away from Pietro to show her outrage and disappointment in their obviously wrong choice. She ended up staring at the ants on the concrete ground.

Pietro was eager to learn, and even more eager to escape Erik’s reach, so soon he was a few yards in front of him. The bike swayed, and Erik steadied it with his powers, one of his hands reaching out for it – even though he couldn’t possibly touch it physically. He quickly reduced the distance sharing them, still keeping the bike in his mutation’s grip.

“You can’t do this every time” Magda told him. “It’s better that he falls now, when we’re here, than if he’s reckless in the future”

“It’s an instinct. I panic every time” he said to that, because it was true. The moment he felt that the bike was off-balance, his power tried to ensure Pietro’s safety almost without his control. He didn’t want to stop it from doing so.

“Well, he needs to learn how to not fall by himself. You won’t always be at his side”

“You’re only terrifying me more” he replied, but he did a little less to steady the bike next time.

Sometimes he needed to let Pietro fall, but what does “fall” even mean? When should he do it? When is it too important to let him learn from his own mistakes, when can Erik actually prevent it?

Erik put his jacket on, trying to banish this memory and those thoughts from his head. It felt like his whole life was one big fall, with no one to stop it. Maybe Erik let them both fall – and maybe he was the one that pushed them off the edge.

He began walking down the stairs. He was not going to pay for a delivery, the pizzeria was close enough for him to go on a walk there.

★★★★★

It looked like he can’t go one walk without thinking about Charles.

Charles himself didn’t make it easier, because he kept texting him – and Erik kept responding. What he assumed will be one hookup, casual sex with no strings attached, turned into pretty regular meetings. A bit ironic, since he assumed that Charles will never even reach out in the first place.

It’s been going on for about two months – probably; Erik stopped being the best at keeping track of time years ago – and Erik never texted him first. There was just something so gut-wrenching about the image of Charles rolling his eyes and sighing heavily when he looks at the notification – something Erik saw him do once. Then Charles proceeded to explain that he has this new assistant at the lab and she’s a bit disorganized.

“I don’t blame her, of course” he said, putting his phone back in his pocket after quickly replying. “It must be stressful for her too, I just wish she’d stop misplacing things that aren’t hers”

Then Erik heard about the way it impacted Charles’ and his lab partner’s project, even though he had little to no knowledge about genetics. He already knew what Charles did for work at university, heard anecdotes about it, about his sister, about his cat (named after Nettie Stevens; Erik was too embarrassed to admit that he doesn’t know who he’s talking about, so he just googled it later) and student life at Oxford. Erik was more reluctant at sharing information about himself, but Charles didn’t seem to mind.

Erik didn’t like to think how Charles’ life is like outside of their meetings. He listened to the stories, laughed at them – genuinely, which seemed strange to him – but when he was with Charles he thought about Charles, not about comparing their lives.

Erik had foolishly (realistically?) thought that it will be just sex, but it was never like that with Charles. There was always a date before, though he didn’t have to do this. He didn’t have to take Erik to restaurants or other (most of the time fancy) places. Erik supposed that he just loved to talk, which they did a lot when they met. They weren’t a couple, obviously – Erik still claimed that he doesn’t date, even if it was only in his head, and if Charles wanted to date someone he could just find the right person instead of repeatedly proposing another meeting to Erik – but it wasn’t just sex. Erik would say that the closest way to describe what they had would be “friends with benefits”.

He hated that term.

He also hated what his mind did with memories from their shared time. It happened after they bid each other goodbye, in the most random moments. For example now, while he was walking down a street and realizing that the end of September might be an appropriate time to start wearing sweatshirts again.

Honestly, he should focus on anything else. Even counting his fucking steps would be better than thinking about how does a man with vocational education/too much grey hair and wrinkles/three children look next to someone who is an Oxford graduate/seemingly stopped aging when he reached 30/has a cat.

The answer was simple: not good.

Despite all the comparing (and the humiliation he felt when he insisted he can pay for himself while knowing that Charles paying is actually very much beneficial for him), Erik continued to agree to the meetings and fucking Charles after them, letting him mind-control him as he likes. Maybe it was the telepathy he was so drawn to, that feeling of absolute freedom from responsibility for his actions.

Whatever it was that caused him to come back again and again, he didn’t want to end their kind of weird, but strangely nice relationship. He just needed to stop thinking about the man who doesn’t think about him during his normal day – and he could keep things as they are. As long as Charles doesn’t stop asking whether he wants to meet, that is.

When Erik came back home with the pizzas, he just put them on the table and called his kids. He was not hungry.

Erik went to his room, where he sat on the bed and sighed. He closed his eyes to put his fingers on them and apply pressure there. They hurt him more often lately, and he wondered whether it’s just his imagination or if his vision really is getting worse. He should go to an ophthalmologist or something, but the thought alone about having to bother with that made him postpone making an appointment every time. He will do it. Someday. Probably. If he has time. And money.

Hiding in his bedroom felt like cowardice. He should get it together. Get it together. Get it together. Get it together.

Thank the fucking god that he doesn’t have to do anything for the next few minutes. The laundry is done, the ironing is done, he vacuumed, cleaned the kitchen. The dinner is being currently eaten, and he was certain there will be enough leftovers for the next meal. It was definitely unhealthy. He shouldn’t be ignoring his responsibilities as a parent like that. He should just get it together and find enough motivation to do something so mundane like making dinner. He should be there with them. Get it together. Get it together. Stop hiding. Stop failing them. Stop failing Magda. What would she think if she saw him now?

Erik firmly believed that he should be happy. Yes, he was a widower, but he has been for the past eight years, so he’s mourned. He had the little rays of sunshine that were his children. They were healthy, they weren’t living in poverty, all of their needs could be fulfilled. There were millions of people who had it so, so much worse than him. He should just grit his teeth and get his shit together, stop being so pretentious and be grateful that it isn’t worse. Just get it together. Get it together. It’s not that hard.

“It’s not that hard” he whispered to himself, getting up. The pain behind his eyes only intensified, but he ignored it, walking out of the room. His head pounded with every step he took.

★★★★★

Sometimes they met in Charles’ apartment. That didn’t mean Charles’ material status didn’t strike the eye – Erik didn’t even want to think how much the wine they were sipping cost. Even the chess set Charles had looked expensive. Erik played very rarely in the past years, so he lost the first game miserably, but the more they did it, the easier it was to use his rusty skills.

They both would sit on the couch during their matches, because Nettie took over the armchair entirely. Erik thought that Charles lets the cat do too much, like it was his roommate, not his pet. Charles just laughed it off.

Chess and wine made the conversation easy. They swiftly moved between talking about chess clubs, high school and sports when Charles said that he ran track back then.

“You don’t really look like an athlete” Erik joked “Especially while clothed”

Charles laughed at that. Erik was well aware of how his body looked, but the what he wore (and his height) made him appear as a scholar, not someone particularly interested in any kind of physical activity. The cane only added to that image.

“Oh, I’m sure I could pick your skinny ass up with no problem”

Erik chuckled, watching Charles put his glass away onto the table. He was always pretty thin – his not very healthy lifestyle only made it more visible – but he didn’t think Charles’ words could be anything more that an empty declaration.

“Yeah, I’d like to see that”

He didn’t expect that Charles will move closer to him, that he will feel his hands around his waist and under his thighs. He certainly didn’t expect that he will find himself on Charles’ lap after a few seconds.

“See?” Charles said, smirking. His face was very close to Erik’s, who could feel himself blush. “It would probably be harder while I’m standing, you know, imbalance…” he kept going, and Erik just put his own glass to his lips a took a big sip of the wine he almost spilled a moment ago. Fuck, is that what turns him on now? Getting manhandled? Well, it was more of the matter of who was doing it, but Erik didn’t have time to think about that. Charles’ fingers wrapped around his, taking the glass out and putting it on the table too as he dipped his head forward, quickly reducing the remaining distance between their lips.

When Erik was leaving that night, he passed the chessboard – and he couldn’t resist rearranging a few pieces. Maybe he’ll come back here, and maybe they’ll finish that game. He doubted Charles will remember exactly where they stopped. It was always good to have advantage.

Other times they met at the bar. Erik had nothing against that – the place wasn’t bad, though if he could change something he’d definitely lower the volume of music. When he started working here he would get a headache within ten minutes from starting his shift for the first week or two. Now he was used to it, so they happened much rarer. Oh, and he’d definitely fire Azazel. His coworker was probably the closest thing to a friend Erik had, but he started teasing him about the meetings with Charles, and it made Erik want to strangle him. Or at least accidentally spill a drink all over him.

Meetings with Charles started happening much more often than Erik expected. The ones at the bar were focusing on chatter frequently interrupted by something, rather short in comparison to the ones outside. Plus they didn’t end in sex. Erik didn’t really know why they had those.

He also kept wondering why they had them at all.

Outside of the bar their meetings were… better. More private, longer, certainly more interesting – especially at the end. It always happened in Charles’ apartment. Before that they would go to many different places, and talked about… many different things.

“I know that British cuisine may seem a tad bit strange to you- ”

“A tad bit strange” Erik repeated, mocking him. “It’s a war crime”

“Your British accent should be considered a war crime!” Charles said, laughing almost hysterically. Erik smiled to himself, looking at his face, pink cheeks and wide grin. They’ve just come out of a restaurant where Charles has marveled over some of the dishes – ones that would made Erik hesitate before trying, and he was not a picky eater. That lead to another of theirs not-really-arguments, and what’s more important, making Charles laugh. He was not looking at Erik, so he only had a view of his profile. He noticed crow’s feet in the corner of his eye; a sign that Charles is, in fact, only three years younger than him. It felt surprisingly out of place. Neither of them really looked their age, just… in opposite directions.

Erik pressed his lips into a tight line, his teeth sinking into the inside of his cheek. Why is he doing this? He quickly looked away, his eyes fixing on the sidewalk in front of him. They both drank a bit some time before; it wasn’t a lot, just enough to loosen tongues. It was probably why he was making Charles laugh and smiling when he did. Too tipsy to think straight and too sober to acknowledge it. There’s nothing more to it.

“Were you ever in Britain?” Charles asked. Now he was looking at Erik, and he had a brief moment of panic, suddenly too aware of how unpleasant his expression must seem. Stop pressing your lips together. Stop being so tense. Stop biting your cheek, Charles will be able to taste blood if it’s in your fucking mouth.

“I passed through” he replied, finally looking away from Charles.

“Oh, well, I certainly made more memories, then” he said. “Not always good, though”

Erik started to doubt that they’re still talking about cuisine.

“Would you like to go back there?”

“Maybe someday” Charles said after a moment of hesitation. “I like my life here”

“Congratulations. Any tips how to achieve that?”

Charles chuckled, and Erik failed to stop himself from looking at him again. Damn it. Damn it. At least he made him smile. Why does he even care about it?

“Do you want to move from here?” he asked. He was looking at Erik too, and Erik felt like looking away now would make it awkward, so he just hoped he’s not embarrassing himself at the moment.

Charles’ smile grew a bit wider. Whether it was the fact that they got to know each other a bit or that Erik was tipsy, his mental shields stopped being so strict, allowing the telepath to partially feel his sudden embarrassment. He thought it was cute.

“Well, I can’t really do that” he finally responded.

“But if you could”

“I don’t like to waste time on wondering about unrealistic things”

He got lightly smacked in the back of his leg with Charles’ cane for that.

“Come on, Erik, use your imagination”

“I don’t think imagination is stored in calves, you won’t achieve much by hitting me in them”

He heard Charles’ laugh and bit his lip not to smile, feeling heat on his face and way too fast heartbeat. God, what is he doing? What is happening to him?

“Yeah, I’d move if I could” he said when Charles’ laugh quieted down. The world seemed strangely silent without it. Erik has always liked silence, but… not this one.

“Where?”

“Well, there are plenty of countries that I’d consider. Ones that have the tax included in the prize you see. And with actual democracy, not this weird system. And where garbage disposals aren’t in the sinks and don’t cut your fingers off. And where I can be sure that my neighbor doesn’t own twenty guns. And- ”

“Okay, I think you’ve made your point” Charles cut him off. “I certainly see what you mean”

“Do you, though? You, Americans, are insane in large numbers”

Another laugh; maybe Erik should throw everything away and just become a comedian. It would end in disaster, like everything, but maybe he should.

“You know” Charles said when he collected himself “as much as fun my life was when I lived in the UK, I don’t really miss it. Do you?”

Erik opened his mouth to respond, but then he actually thought about it. He thought about the times when his father wasn’t home because he was working, and when Erik was climbing trees and pretending to be Indiana Jones; when his mother didn’t buy new clothes for herself to buy them for him and when she kissed him goodnight and didn’t go to sleep herself. When he despised his sister ninety percent of the time, but loved her when she shared her candy with him. When he had time for reading books and lived their plot for the next days before finding something new, more interesting. He’s always liked the adventure ones, with a bit of real world and a bit of magic. Back then he actually believed that it all could also happen to him.

“As hell” he finally said, briefly glancing at the sky above him. Grey, as usual. “I miss it as hell”

Chapter Text

Usually the pain in Charles’ leg was bearable. Even more than that – sometimes he could forget about it almost entirely. If he took his painkillers and didn’t walk extended distances, he was fine. Usually.

There were days when he would wake up and immediately know that it was not the usual day. Rather one where painkillers seemed to help very little, and it took him a lot of willpower to not take it out on his students. It could result in breaking pencils between his fingers, but it was fine. He always thought that having to do breathing exercises in the bathroom was better than cancelling lectures and inconveniencing a few dozens of people – though he was sure that there were students who would be grateful if he did that.

Today he didn’t have to, because someone – bless their soul – decided that weekends are not for attending college. That meant he could go on exactly one painful trip around the apartment to get all he needed and spend most of his day grading papers in bed. Or sleeping. What he did was his business.

In the evening, though, he had a date with Erik, and – for reasons he didn’t exactly understand – he really, really didn’t want to postpone it. He’s been catching himself thinking about him more and more often. Especially when he was supposed to focus on something else. Raven already began to tease him for that. Charles didn’t really mind, because the moment she mentioned it his thoughts averted to Erik again – to his grey eyes that looked like steel or ash (depending whether Erik was smiling at him or arguing with him about the most mundane, unimportant thing ever). To his laughter, to his stunning body, to the teeth that left marks on Charles’ skin, to the mind that opened for his, made him feel like he never felt before… and now Charles has done it again and if he keeps daydreaming about Erik he’s going to be late for a meeting with the real him.

He took a cab to the place of meeting, even if it wasn’t very far away. Bless cab drivers, bless the inventor of chairs, so many people that deserve to be blessed. The world is a beautiful place. With beautiful men in it.

One of said beautiful men was waiting for him, and it made Charles smile (and check his wristwatch; he was late, but only two minutes, so it didn’t count).

“Hi, dear” he said, kissing Erik’s cheek. There it was, again; that nervous, but excited feeling in his stomach that always appeared when he was near Erik or thought about him. It was like his entire body was buzzing with anticipation just to see him. Butterflies were dancing in his stomach and he didn’t need alcohol to feel lightheaded. The sight of Erik was enough to make the corners of his mouth turn up uncontrollably, as if-

Oh. Oh. Charles immediately felt heat on his cheeks, undoubtedly blushing. He had a crush on Erik. He had a crush. On Erik Lehnsherr. Oh fuck. Bloody fucking hell.

“You okay?” he heard. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His eyes met Erik’s. God, he had such beautiful eyes. So hypnotizing and gorgeous, like the purest silver Charles ever saw.

“Yeah” he muttered, embarrassed. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Are you sure? You’re pretty red”

Dear god. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. Dear god. He had a terrible, terrible timing for such realizations. Though finally acknowledging this made some things... more understandable. Like why he currently had a little box hidden in the pocket of his jacket.

“Yes, yes. It’s just the cold”

“Then I guess we shall get inside?”

Charles nodded, his throat suddenly not allowing him to speak. Oh god. He was so fucked.

★★★★★

Charles was definitely too nervous. Nothing changed, he reminded himself. It was still the same Erik, and the conversation was flowing just as always, even though he could feel how his realization made him unreasonably anxious. Charles was also trying to act just as always, but it was harder than expected. Especially because he could feel a weight in his pocket, definitely heavier than it should be.

It was just a silly gift. Nothing to be nervous about.

“Erik” he finally began when the right (in his opinion) moment came, feeling the butterflies in his stomach go crazy. He couldn’t help but smiled. “I, uh, I’ve got something for you” he said, reaching into his pocket and taking out a small box. He handed it over to Erik with a smile so bright it felt like rays of sunlight just caressed Erik’s face, warming it up instantly. Erik knew that there was no sun in the sky – and that the heat he felt on his cheeks was probably a blush. Only now he paid more attention to the little bit of unfamiliar metal he could sense.

Erik hesitantly took the box, wondering why on earth Charles was giving it to him. When he opened it he saw a silver necklace with a pendant shaped as a magnet. Silver. Silver. Different metals were easily distinguishable for Erik, and this was real silver, fully, not just a silvered piece of metal.

“Charles, I- ” he stuttered, shocked. He couldn’t accept that gift. “It’s silver” he muttered very intelligently.

“Yeah, it is. I hope you aren’t allergic?”

“Aler- no, no, I’m not” he said, a bit taken aback by this question. It just seemed so bizarre. What could Charles possibly want from him that made him give Erik something so valuable?

Suddenly Erik found himself wishing that he was allergic to silver. That way he’d have a logical reason to refuse the gift – something better than just “I can’t accept that” which left his mouth.

“Why not?” Charles asked, poorly concealed disappointment audible in his voice.

“I just- I can’t” he stressed, not knowing what else to say – because why can’t he accept it? He just couldn’t.

“I know it’s silly” Charles muttered, visibly backing off, as if ashamed. “It just made me think of you when I saw it, the magnet, your powers, so I got it...” he rambled.

Made me think of you. Erik felt the heat from his cheeks spread through his chest. Surely he meant Erik’s mutation. Erik knew it was remarkable, unlike him, and Charles was interested by it from the start. Magnet -> metal -> Erik’s power -> Erik. As simple as that.

“It’s not” Erik protested. “It was just... unexpected”

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t like it”

“I do” he assured, smiling, his fingers brushing against the cold metal. It vibrated ever so slightly, but Erik immediately made it stop, anxious that Charles might see it. “I really do”

Charles beamed at him again, feeling his heart race. Ah, damn it, damn it. He’s embarrassing himself again. At least Erik accepted his gift after the first refusal. Maybe it really was because Charles surprised him.

Charles couldn’t feel Erik’s anxiety, carefully sealed from him by mental shields. He couldn’t feel his momentary panic, hear the thoughts wondering: what does he want from me? why is he doing this? He didn’t see how Erik’s hand trembled slightly as he hid the box in his own pocket; he didn’t know that Erik’s chest started feeling too tight, that he was too aware of the way he breathes and too scared of doing it the wrong way.

For the love of god, what was Charles’ goal? What was he trying to do? Manipulate Erik? Pull him into some kind of scheme? Cult? Scam him? Ridiculous. It was all so fucking ridiculous – especially the anxious, but happy feeling in Erik’s chest.

★★★★★

Charles overestimated himself. Or underestimated his pain. Or both of those. Whatever it was, he fucked up bad and now was regretting it. Right leg, take a breath, left leg, pain intensifies, right leg, take a breath, left leg, pain intensifies. He should have proposed they take a cab to his place. As long as they sat, the ache was tolerable, so he thought he’ll manage. Why does he fool himself every time? Surely it won’t be that bad, he thinks, and five minutes later it’s worse than that bad. It’s always like that.

Charles’ hand was in his pocket, clenched around the little plastic container with painkillers. He never took more pills than he should – mostly because Raven forced him to watch all episodes of House MD and he freaked out over not wanting to end up like him – but in moments like this he was tempted. Very tempted. Right leg, take a breath, left leg, pain, pain-

“Sorry, can we stop for a moment?” Charles asked, his eyes fixed on the closest bench. They were walking through a park, there was plenty of them, and every one made his need to sit down for a moment stronger. Should’ve taken a cab. Should’ve taken a cab. He needs just a minute or two to regain the ability to breathe normally.

Erik eyed him with uneasiness. It wasn’t hard to notice that Charles was relying on his cane heavier than usually, the pace he walked at slower. Of course he agreed immediately. Charles quickly sat down, closed his eyes and tilted his head back a bit. He sighed with limited relief when he straightened his leg.

“Sorry” Charles said, a slight grimace on his face. “A bad leg day” he explained. Fuck. He thought he’ll be fine. He will be, in a moment. He just needs to take a few deeper breaths – and stop focusing on the fact that Erik sees him while he’s in pain. Humiliating.

“Oh” Erik muttered. He didn’t really know what to do with this information, but it sounded concerning. “Do you want me to give you a hand?”

“No, no. It’s fine” he tried to assure him, though Erik did not feel less worried. Do bad leg days happen often? Was Charles in pain for the whole meeting?

“Alright” he said despite his concern. “You sure you don’t want to postpone that?”

He cared much more about Charles’ wellbeing than their date. He would rather they reschedule it than for Charles to strain himself – even if he looked forward to it. Not even for the sex – for Charles, for his witty remarks and soft British voice and eyes that looked like sky did when Erik was a boy in Germany. Not like the grey clouds over the town, but the pure blue that instantly sparked joy. Erik bit the inside of his cheek, thinking about how much Charles was downplaying it.

Wait. Date? Why did he think about it like that? He meant hookup. It was a hookup. Just a hookup, nothing more.

He wondered briefly when did he start to care so much – and when did the word “date” started to replace “meeting”, “meet up” or “hookup” in his head.

“There’s no need” Charles protested, a flirtatious smile appearing on his face. “It’s not going to be an issue during sex. Besides, I have some gentle lovemaking in mind”

Issue. The only issue Erik saw here was Charles being in pain. Issue. Fucking- does Charles even hear himself? Erik was fighting the urge to scream at him in a sudden flare of irritation. Did Charles think that Erik is a troglodyte unable of understanding that it hurts him and he can’t control it? That he was going to get mad or disappointed if Charles puts himself first? Erik could never do something like that to him.

“Not our usual repertoire” he joked to hide his worry. Charles chuckled.

“Yeah, but do you have something against it?”

“Not at all”

After a short while Charles stood up again, and Erik almost instinctively moved close to him, ready to support him if he needed that. Charles felt warmth in his chest, sensing concern coming from him – not irritation at his pain, but authentic worry. He smiled at Erik, wrapping his free arm around him, maybe sliding his fingers just a little bit into his pants.

“You’re sweet, darling, but there’s no need to be so concerned”

In response Erik’s arm wrapped around him too, his grip strong and protective. Charles could feel himself blush. Fuck. He has a crush on Erik Lehnsherr. He needed a drink. And to call Raven. Or to invite her over for said drink.

“Of course. Shall we keep going?”

Charles nodded, and Erik didn’t take his hand away, so neither did he.

★★★★★

Charles was… different.

That was the conclusion Erik made while on his way home, staring out of a taxi’s window. He had no idea what they were to each other. Not a couple. Not friends. Not just people that occasionally fuck. He had no idea why was he so worried. Why, after Charles let him take care of him in bed, where he was just as brilliant as usually, his moans just as beautiful and intoxicating as all the other times, Erik felt the urge to stay with him much stronger than ever. Why did he want to ask Charles if he needs anything, fetch it for him immediately if such thing existed and then stay at his side in case there was something else he could do. Why did he want to text Charles and ask him if he’s okay, even though he left his apartment ten minutes ago and of course he’s fucking okay and doesn’t even want to see that text. Erik didn’t understand that sudden flare of protectiveness. It was all so different from the life he knew just a few weeks before.

Charles was simply different, not meant to be labeled. Charles made him feel good, made him feel seen, made him think that maybe, just maybe, he could be worth more than his labor, more than what his body was capable of doing. And what if it wasn’t true? Erik could sustain on this feeling alone, even if it was just his delusion, even if Charles never meant to make him feel anything deeper than arousal strong enough to get him into his bed. Erik will take it. A starving dog doesn’t care if the food it gets is half-rotten, and Erik doesn’t care about Charles’ intentions. The less he cared, the easier it was.

At least there were some constants he could be sure of. After their dates they would go to Charles’ apartment – not much smaller than Erik’s, even though Charles lived alone. That’s where Erik would wonder if he hadn’t had sex in a long time or if Charles is just really good at it (he always came to one conclusion). This man’s libido was unmatched – one time Erik caught himself thinking that if they lived together he would regularly pass out either before or after the third round. He quickly called himself down for that thought. They didn’t live together and never will. It will end sooner or later and his life will come back to the earlier normality.

Though Charles as a whole was unmatched. He found the perfect balance between degradation and praise, between how Erik would call himself and how he desperately craved to be called. It was good to have that balance. It gave Erik ability to feel pain and pleasure at the same time. Pleasure alone would be strange. It was good to hear insults amid praises, because praises alone would make him sob even more, they would make him stand up and leave. Erik wouldn’t be able to hear so much lies without those little pins of truth he needed to be stabbed with to remain sane.

Sometimes it felt like he was whoring out – for a stepping stone from his life, for free entertainment, for Charles’ attention. Charles seemed like someone who would take a whore out for dinner before actually doing what he pays for. Erik will take it, though. It was more than he expected anyway. Charles always gave him more than he expected.

Erik didn’t know when did their touches became romantic instead of purely sexual. He didn’t know when Charles started taking his breath away by just being near, not only in their intimate moments. He didn’t know when just a slight brush of fingers became enough to make his heartbeat speed up. He didn’t know when he began to purposefully prolong their meetings, when he started to almost obsessively stain Charles’ skin with hickeys and bite marks, as if he wanted to say “he’s mine”, even though Charles wasn’t his and won’t ever be. He didn’t know when every notification in his phone started to make him think “maybe it’s Charles, I hope it’s Charles”, and he pretended that he didn’t feel disappointed when it turned out that it was not Charles.

Pretending was kind of Erik’s thing at this point, whether it was in front of himself or someone else.  Erik has spent years pretending that he’s not tired, that he’s doing fine, that he doesn’t dream things will change. That he doesn’t think about the small house he left behind in Germany, wishing he could go back, wishing life was as easy as it was then.

Erik could also pretend he didn’t catch feelings already, and that he doesn’t know it might have been one of the worst mistakes in his life. Because Charles could never fall for someone like Erik – it was obvious, and he accepted it already; he accepted the hopelessness of his situation before he acknowledged the situation’s existence. He doesn’t need to be in love with Charles to realize that he’s all such a good, brilliant, kind man like Charles would avoid while looking for a partner. Anyone would avoid Erik, and they should do it for their own good if they don’t want to end up with a thing so broken it’s beyond repair.

The praises and sweet nothings Charles whispers to him at nights don’t mean anything. Erik accepted that. He can pretend that it doesn’t hurt.

Whoever made him think that love was something that brings happiness should get sued for fraud, because Erik’s love made him anything but happy. It was buried in the darkest corner of his mind, with his grief, rage, emptiness and sadness, and it kept trying to free itself more than any of them. What’s the difference between grief and love if they made him react the same way? Both made him want to sob, to throw up and hope all of his emotions leave his body in the process. Rejecting humanity and depriving himself of ability to feel would make his life so much easier, he was sure of that.

Erik stepped out of the cab and closed the door behind himself. He shuddered slightly – it was colder than he expected. He took a deep breath, the chill air entering his lungs. For some reason he expected it to hurt, but it didn’t.

In moments like this Erik thought that he would kill for a cigarette, even though he quit smoking years ago. It was a waste of health. And money.

★★★★★

“So” Pietro said the moment he heard the door open “how was the date?”

“It was not a date” Erik protested, taking his jacket off. His son instantly appeared next to him seemingly out of nowhere, leaning on the wall and crossing his arms on his chest.

“Yeah, of course” he said, watching him as he took off his shoes. Erik raised an eyebrow at him, his expression saying “don’t you have other things to do?”. Pietro’s smirk told him that no, he doesn’t – and even if he does, he’s going to ignore that.

“Can’t I just go out with a friend once in a while?” he asked, even though he was perfectly aware that he has never gone out this frequently before. Or had many friends. Or have many friends right now. Frankly speaking, his social life was in shambles. It was humiliating.

“You pick weird hours for it”

Erik scoffed quietly, not looking at Pietro.

“And you should be asleep”

“It’s eleven, and tomorrow’s Sunday”

Fuck. He can’t lose a discussion to a teenager. Again. But he did come home earlier than usually, he should have expected that not all of his kids might be asleep. Maybe a change of subject will save him.

“I hope you’ve at least eaten some decent supper” he said, passing Pietro as he walked to the kitchen to get himself some water. He checked the fridge – the food he left for them was mostly gone. When he poured water into a glass, the boy was already standing next to the counter.

“Yeah, yeah, we did. How about you answer my question?”

Erik let out a long sigh and placed the glass next to the sink.

“The meeting was fine, Pietro” he muttered shortly, but a hint of a smile appeared on his face.

“The meeting” his son repeated, amused. “You can’t fool me. I know what you are”

“Well, yes, we’ve had this conversation already”

Pietro just laughed. It looked like Erik was getting exceptionally good at making people do it.

“How about you tell me how was it at Kurt’s? Did you have fun?”

Kurt was one of Pietro’s friends, but Erik saw him maybe two times in his life. The boy seemed to be just as polite as shy, and to be honest Erik would say he and Pietro were polar opposites. Well, except for the German roots and being mutants.

“Oh yes. The meeting was perfectly fine”

Erik didn’t manage to suppress a chuckle. He blamed it on being tipsy.

“I’m glad” he said, still smiling. “But now go to sleep”

Pietro rolled his eyes, but there was no real annoyance in it.

“Sure. Night, dad” he muttered and disappeared from the kitchen before Erik had a chance to respond.

“Goodnight” Erik said to an empty room, smile slowly fading from his face.

★★★★★

Erik turned from his side to his back. He really, really wished he could just fall asleep. Unfortunately his mind decided to analyze every single thing that he said/was said to him. It’s usual, to be honest.

“Do you want me to give you a hand?”

“No, no. It’s fine”

“Alright. You sure you don’t want to postpone that?”

“There’s no need. It’s not going to be an issue during sex”

“So, how was the date?”

“It was not a date”
“Can’t I just go out with a friend once in a while?”
“The meeting was fine, Pietro”
“How about you tell me how was it at Kurt’s? Did you have fun?”

“Oh yes. The meeting was perfectly fine”

The meeting was perfectly fine. There was something weirdly suspicious about this sentence. The meeting-

Erik sat up, his eyes snapping open. Did Pietro just fucking admit that it was a date and it completely flew over his head? He’s an idiot. He’s a fucking idiot. God. He’s going to lose it. Was his son just joking? Was it on purpose? If it really was a date, couldn’t he just give it to him straight? Did he not trust him? Did Erik gave him reasons not to trust him? Pietro was fourteen, is that the age they discuss this? Should he also do it with Wanda? They need to talk about this.

Erik sighed, rubbing his face with his hand, and lied back down. He needs sleep. He needs to be one hundredth percent sober, which he was not at the moment. And he did need to talk about this with Pietro, but… someday. When he thinks it through.

Fucking hell.

★★★★★

Charles was laying on the couch, the TV playing in the background. He didn’t actually pay any attention to it, staring at the ceiling instead. His leg didn’t hurt so bad anymore. Something else did, but it was a pleasant ache – one that reminded him about the way Erik made love to him not more than two hours ago. He was holding Charles so gently, treating him like he was made of porcelain. Not because he was afraid of breaking him, but because he knew that’s what Charles wanted.

“Ouch! Nettie, you absolute- ” he yelled when he felt another ache – this time in his stomach. Nettie completely ignored his complaining and made herself comfortable on top of him. He sighed quietly, but his hand reached to pet her. Erik started bringing treats for her when he came over, and the thought about how cute he was with her made heat return to Charles’ face. Erik might be both the hottest and the most adorable person he’s ever met.

God, this is absurd. He’s blushing while thinking about a guy he literally fucked multiple times, just because he saw him smiling and petting his cat. How juvenile is that?

“What should I do with this, Net?” he asked. The cat just moved her tail, lightly smacking him. Maybe it was a sign to get it together. “You’re very helpful, you know”

Nettie, obviously, didn’t respond, so Charles was left to ponder by himself.

Chapter Text

Erik threw his jacket on, standing in the doorway of Charles’ apartment. The man was right in front of him, dressed only in a robe.

“So, next weekend?” he asked with a smile. It was almost a tradition at this point. Next weekend, and then the next, then the next.

“Sure” Erik said, his smile smaller than Charles’, but still present on his face. He really didn’t want to show how happy the perspective of another meeting made him.

“Oh, wait” Charles muttered, his eyebrows furrowing. “No, I can’t. There’s a genetics conference, I’m leaving the state... You know” he said, smiling apologeticaly. “What about the next, next weekend?”

Erik chuckled quietly. For a moment he got anxious that Charles wanted to just cancel, entirely. Maybe it got delayed, but it will still happen. That was the only thing that mattered.

“Yeah, the next, next weekend sounds great”

“Amazing” Charles said, smiling wider. He quickly pecked Erik on the lips, surprising him. “Bye”

“Bye” Erik repeated, his voice breaking just a little. He closed the door behind himself and let out a sigh, his heart racing. Fuck. Don’t fall for it. Don’t fall for him.

The next weekend, in the evening, Erik almost started getting ready for a meeting before he realized that he shouldn’t. It wasn’t actually that bad – he was at home and he had more time to try to persuade Pietro to throw out the pile of things he didn’t use that occupied about 10% of the place in his room. It included old toys, clothes and trinkets the boy absolutely refused to get rid of.

That day the topic was mainly heelys. Pietro basically begged Erik for them when he was ten. They were not only too small now, but also not in the best state, yet Pietro kept them as if they were made of gold. Erik didn’t understand his son’s hoarding tendencies, but he tried not to argue with him about it. Not always successfully.

After not being successful (in both persuading and arguing matters) Erik just decided to give up. For now. Instead he busied himself with making supper.

When he was putting a potato casserole in the oven, his phone buzzed. His first thought? Charles. His second thought? Stop, stop, stop, stop.

He pulled the phone out of his pocket.

Charles X:  I miss you

Suddenly temperature in the room rose about twenty degrees. Erik took a shaky, deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Very unsuccesfully.

Erik: You miss my dick.

That seemed like a safe reply. No feelings. Erik does not have any feelings about this.

Deciding that his hands are shaking a bit too hard, he went to hide in his bedroom like the coward he was. Too bad he couldn’t really hide from the next texts.

Charles X:  That too

Charles X: But also the rest

Fuck, fuck, fuck times thousand. Kurwa jego mać, ja pierdolę. How does he respond to that to appear Normal™?

Erik: I can tell you exactly how I would fuck you if you were here.

Maybe if he goes into this direction they’ll both forget about whatever the fuck Charles’ first message was.

Charles X: Tempting

Charles X:  Maybe later

Charles X: Tell me how are you doing

How am I doing? I argued with Pietro and I think Wanda doesn’t want to talk to me and I don’t know why and I’m a bad father and I’m even worse at controlling myself because I fell in love with you and it’s horrible and I wish I could just stop it but I can’t and I miss you too and I wish you were here so bad it scares me. How about you?

Erik: Normally.

Charles: Have I ever told you that you’re a very eloquent conversation partner?

Erik: Yeah, I’ve heard something along this line.

Charles X: I’m kind of starting to regret I went

Charles X: No one wants to hear about my theory

Erik: The one that mutants were here in ancient times already but now there’s more of them or the one that the gene responsible for mutations is carried by males exclusively even if they’re not mutants themselves?

Charles could feel heat on his face. He didn’t think Erik really listened to his rambles, let alone remembered what they were about.

Charles X: Both to be honest

Charles X: I’m flattered you remember

Erik: I just listen when you talk, it’s not hard.

Charles X: You’re one of the very few

Charles X: That’s actually so adorable

Erik tugged at the collar of his turtleneck. He needed to open a window, it was too hot in here. What the hell was he supposed to respond to that?

Erik: Thanks...?

Charles X: God Erik I hope you know you’re hilarious

Charles X: Hank is asking me why I’m laughing

Erik found something in this message much more important than the fact that apparently he’s hilarious. He felt a sting in his chest.

Erik: You two share a room?

Charles X: Yeah, the hotels are all packed here

Erik: Oh. Okay.

Charles X: Are you jealous?

Erik: No.

Charles  X: You ARE

Charles X: That’s even more adorable

Kurwa. Scheiße. Ja pierdolę. Can he embarrass himself anything more? He needed to somehow end this conversation.

Erik: Sorry, I have to go or I’ll burn the supper.

Charles X: Ooh

Charles X: What do you have?

Erik typed “I don’t see how that’s relevant”, but then he deleted the message.

Erik: Potato casserole.

Charles X: I definitely regret I went

Charles X:  Hope it’s great

Charles X: Bye <3

Erik rubbed his face with his hand, trying to stop the corners of his mouth from turning up. Was he really going to smile at a digital heart in his phone like a teen? Pathetic.

Erik:  Bye.

★★★★★

Erik rummaged through the drawer until he found the thing he was looking for.

He hesitantly took out a dark red, flared skirt. He hasn’t worn it – or any other skirt he had – in ages. He remembered enjoying it, though. He remembered being in his twenties and arguing with Magda about this before going to parties. “You can’t wear the green one, I’m going to wear it” “Well, take the blue one, then” “It doesn’t match my shirt” “But it matches your eyes”.

Erik wasn’t sure if he should wear it now. He and Charles were going on that date meeting he had to wait for one week more than usually; not somewhere fancy this time, just a cinema. Erik wondered what to wear and suddenly he remembered that he has a few skirts that have been collecting dust for ages.

Maybe he wanted to put it on for that date meeting, but what he wanted was not the most important criteria here. Twenty or fifteen years ago he was confident about his body. Now he was definitely in worse shape. Erik liked working out, and in the past he did it regularly, but in the present he didn’t have time for it. His workouts were replaced by carrying bags with groceries and climbing stairs to the fourth floor, because nobody could be bothered to fix the elevator for the past six years.

Charles seemed to like his body, though. Why else would he meet up with Erik? Charles also complimented and praised it, but Erik had no guarantee that those words were true. Maybe Charles just said that because he knew it will make Erik come back to him for more.

Still unsure, Erik decided to try the skirt on. If it doesn’t fit anymore, his dilemma will solve itself on its own.

Fortunately or not, it did. It was a bit more loose than Erik remembered, but still fit him nicely. A black shirt to match it, and soon he was staring at his reflection in the mirror, wondering what the hell was he doing. One application of concealer, powder and eyeliner he found (it was either his old one, so possibly older than Nina, or Wanda’s, but in that second case Erik had no idea how it ended up in his things) and he could barely recognize the man staring back at him from the glass surface.

That was good. Not recognizing his current self felt good to Erik.

He looked outside, and then in the mirror again. Maybe his outfit was just a bit inappropriate for the temperature, but they were going to spend most of the time inside anyway. In a dark cinema where nobody will be able to see him for most of the time. That suited Erik’s book.

★★★★★

Charles’ mouth opened as he shamelessly stared at approaching Erik.

Oh my fucking god, he thought, feeling his stomach flip. The more details he saw, the more his eyes widened.

Erik was dressed in a wine red skirt ending just above his knees, exposing his long, slender legs. The skirt was high-rise; combined with a tight black shirt it defined Erik’s waist and oh god, his waist, so small and dainty and perfect for Charles to grab it and pull him closer, he was going insane. Erik was, completely undoubtedly, the hottest thing on two legs he’s ever had the honor of seeing. He had to consciously remind himself to not drool.

“See something you like?” Erik asked instead of greeting him, well aware of the reaction he caused. He had never seen so much desire on a man’s face before. Perfectly satisfied with himself, he put one of his hands on his hip and rested his body weight on one leg, slightly bending the other.

Charles noticed black eyeliner that gave a nice accent to Erik’s bright, steel-colored eyes, straight lines seeming almost ironic. Erik’s lips definitely weren’t this red naturally, and Charles noticed with joy that there was a silver necklace on his neck. Charles’ hands itched to grab him (by this masterpiece of a waist which was totally going to be the death of him) and kiss passionately, smearing the lipstick, biting at his bottom lip, because he knew that it will cause Erik to let out the most beautiful moan, and- and he cannot afford to get so horny in a public place just because of his fantasy. And because his man decided to test him in the hottest, cruelest way possible.

Charles decided that he won’t bother trying to save the remaining crumbs of his dignity. He immediately reduced the distance between them to zero, his hand wrapping around Erik’s waist (he was about to start screaming) and kissing him with more intensity than he should for it to be considered socially acceptable. Erik only deepened the kiss, making it even harder to stay composed.

“I worked hard on that lipstick” Erik muttered, pretending to be offended. Charles just tightened his grip around Erik’s waist (he was not going to keep his hands to himself tonight).

“How could you do this to me? I really wanted to see that movie” he said, his eyes stubbornly averting from Erik’s eyes to his lips.

“Well, that’s what we’re going to do, aren’t we?”

Charles’ fingers dig into Erik’s body just under his ribs. The man took in a sharp breath, and Charles’ eyes narrowed a bit.

“I’m reconsidering it”

Erik smiled slyly, his hand wrapping around Charles as well.

“What could possibly be so important for you to do so?” he asked, taking probably way too much satisfaction in teasing Charles. He was so obviously aroused Erik just couldn’t not take advantage of this. And it made him feel… good. Even if Charles faked his reaction, it was still so irrationally nice to hear and see someone appreciating his efforts to look good, being simply attracted to him.

“You’re such a bloody…” Charles began, but got distracted by Erik’s body shifting under his touch.

“We should go if we don’t want to be late, darling” Erik said, just as smugly as everything beforehand. Charles was going to murder him. After he does many other, much more pleasurable things to him, that is.

“Of course” Charles agreed, though he really was wondering whether the movie was worth keeping himself composed for at least the next two hours. Even as they walked he kept looking at Erik instead of whatever was in front of him. Well, since he could not find anything as beautiful, sexy and alluring as Erik there, he didn’t see the point.

When they were entering the cinema, they heard the words “fucking faggots”. They had no idea who said it, as there were quite a few people passing, but they were sure that the words were aimed at them.

After a brief moment a giggle Erik failed to stop escaped his mouth.

“What’s so funny?” Charles asked, looking at him with an eyebrow raised.

“Nothing” he said, a bit embarrassed. “It just felt like I’m in my twenties again”

This time Charles laughed with him.

“I’m glad to provide such nostalgic experiences”

Yeah, Erik thought, I’m glad too.

★★★★★

Erik really should have known that teasing Charles will not go without consequences.

Charles managed to stay composed until they were sitting in the cinema, the movie already playing. It was a psychological thriller – something Charles proposed, and Erik was genuinely getting invested in the plot when he felt Charles’ hand on his thigh. His skirt covered about ¾ of it, and Charles’ hand slowly moved the material up.

Erik felt as Charles leaned to whisper in his ear.

“You’re so beautiful” he whispered, his voice low. Erik could feel his warm breath caress his skin. “So gorgeous… bewitching. And you’re testing my patience”

Erik felt a shiver go down his spine. He pressed his thighs together a bit tighter.

“Unfortunately you have to wait before you can get what you want” he responded, not abandoning his attitude from earlier. Making Charles go nuts with desire was very, very satisfying.

Charles’ hand slowly moved higher and towards the inner part of his thigh, uncovering more of his skin.

“The thing is, I don’t have to wait, darling” he whispered, his voice alone making Erik’s stomach flip. What?

“I could take you right here, right now. Make everyone oblivious, deaf and blind, as you writhe like a whore in this seat”

Erik could feel heat on his face, undoubtedly blushing. He crossed his legs – just in case – knowing that the skirt won’t hide anything. Charles’ hand was back on his thigh in an instant.

“You aren’t supposed to talk here” Erik said in a desperate attempt to stop this madness. Knowing Charles, he could be dead serious right now, and Erik knew that if he decided to realize this idea, he would not be able to – or want to – stop him.

Or, Charles spoke to his mind, unbothered, I could make them all watch.

His grip on Erik’s thigh tightened, and Erik gulped, shuddering.

I could make everyone see how you spread your legs for me. They would hear how beautifully you moan, those cute little whimpers you let out when you beg me for more… they would see how good you are for me, and they wouldn’t be able to have it, to have you.

Erik thought that crossing his legs was a very good decision. It was such a crazy, shameless idea; such an outward way to show everyone that Erik is Charles’. Erik wanted to be Charles’, and maybe if Charles did this he truly would be his, something more than a guy he hooks up with. Something more. Erik desperately wanted to be something more.

You’re insane. Insane. And I hate you.

That was what he could say without encouraging Charles further. Without betraying himself and revealing what he really thinks. Erik knew that keeping himself hidden was necessary if he wanted to also keep Charles, even if it was for just a little longer. Truth be told, every meeting could be their last. That thought made him want to do anything, anything if only it meant that Charles keeps him.

It was disgusting. That need for Charles to stay, to be his, those feelings Erik developed, Erik himself – it was all so disgusting to him.

You’ll change your mind about this soon, Charles projected confidently.

Before Erik could realize it Charles’ lips were on his. Charles, who just couldn’t stop himself, indulged in his urge to bite Erik’s bottom lip. The man miserably failed to suppress a quiet moan, the sound just as beautiful and intoxicating as Charles remembered.

Erik’s face was so red it probably matched the color of his skirt.

“I hope you at least covered that” he muttered, endlessly embarrassed.

“I don’t see why I should”

Erik was going to fucking strangle him.

“I hate you” he said breathlessly, which only made Charles grin like a maniac.

“You just can’t wait to get railed, darling”

★★★★★

They barely made it to Charles’ apartment clothed.

Charles slammed the door shut aggressively, as if it was its fault that he had to wait. The force with which Erik got pushed against the wall made him yelp into Charles’ lips. Their bodies were pressed together, Erik’s hands frantically trying to unbutton Charles’ shirt as quickly as possible, while Charles’ hands were gripping his waist. He could see exactly what the man thinks of it.

They chaotically moved from the hall to Charles’ bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind them. Erik felt how much more outright Charles was that day, how little say he had in this. Well, he guessed that this is what he gets for provoking him. He was not going to complain.

Despite the clear urgency Charles managed to get off Erik for just a few seconds to get lube, his moves as swift and desperate as if he was trying to save someone’s life, even though they could do it without it. Charles still decided to use it, whether it was for his comfort or Erik’s.

Charles could be rough, and he was, often, but he could also be gentle. He would treat Erik as if he was the most precious thing in the world, and every time Erik would realize that no one has been this gentle with him in any matter for years, and every time it would bring tears to his eyes.

Charles could be gentle, but it was not one of those times.

Soon his fingers were inside Erik, and he was, indeed, writhing like a whore, just not in the cinema seat. In Charles’ bed, in Charles’ room, in Charles’ home. Everything there was Charles’, and Erik so desperately wanted to be Charles’ too.

“Charles” he choked out, more a whine than a word. They were way past fingers and he could feel Charles thrust his hips, hitting his prostate, making him moan again.

If only Erik could articulate himself and tell him what he was begging for. They didn’t need words, though. Charles could find out by himself, which he did.

“Oh, my darling” he said, both out loud and in Erik’s mind – and the word my made Erik feel like he’s about to go insane. “Oh, Erik, Erik” he repeated, tasting every sound. The frantic tell me I’m yours, tell me I’m yours he could hear so clearly was more than he needed. “Be a good boy and ask for it”

“Please, Cha- Charles” Erik pleaded, feeling first tears escape his eyes. He so hysterically needed it to be true, he barely could control his mouth enough to form words. “Charles, plea- fuck, please, please”

Charles, admittedly, liked to make him beg. Erik let out another utterly pathetic sound, something between a whimper and a sob.

“You’re mine, Erik” Charles finally said, and Erik thought that those words are what will make him come, but Charles didn’t allow that. He had full control over what Erik body could or couldn’t do.

“You’re mine” Charles repeated, and Erik saw stars, feeling as if Charles had just tore his chest open and ripped out his lungs. He was Charles’, in every meaning of this; he was Charles’ like an object would be his, and like an animal, and like a person, he could be his like anything he would ever want. He was his like a stray dog he occasionally gave scraps to, that waited for him to come around again, that sometimes got petted and called good, but taking him from the street would require too much effort. Nobody could be bothered with that. He could pretend that the scraps are enough, that they don’t satiate his hunger for only a moment, that he’s not starving. He could pretend. If there was anything he was good at, it was pretending.

Charles prolonged this sweet torture for the next few minutes, more of Erik’s tears staining his pillow. He didn’t end it when they both reached an orgasm; instead he moved to Erik’s thighs and bit, making him yelp, maybe even drawing blood.

“Did you think you’re the only one who can mark, gorgeous?” Charles asked, his voice low and breathless. Erik couldn’t respond, couldn’t even think, too overwhelmed with pleasure and too shaken with pain. Charles’ mouth left bite marks and hickeys higher and higher, on his hips, stomach, torso and neck, and Erik could feel how much of wild satisfaction it brought him. Erik didn’t care why, he was too afraid to care for that. He only cared for what Charles’ said. His, his, his, Charles’. The only thing he wanted to be.

Such a shame Erik was certain this feeling wasn’t mutual.

He didn’t stay at Charles’ place, as usually, but he also didn’t go straight home like he should. He didn’t know what to do with himself. A jarring hole Charles left in his chest made him feel more empty than he ever did. He always thought that there can be nothing more, nothing worse, but life always proved him wrong, making the hollow space expand further, like it wanted to consume him.

He decided to go by foot instead of taking a taxi. His legs led him without the mind’s command, like he was in a trance, not even feeling the cold wind that made him shiver uncontrollably.

Then, he let out a sob.

He really was nothing but a whore. Such a desperate, pathetic thing, letting Charles toy with him as he likes in exchange for a few words. Why would he even care? Charles indulged in his whim, told him what he wanted to hear. It didn’t matter if it’s true. Erik couldn’t care less if it’s true.

He walked the empty road, tears and eyeliner streaming down his face, his body sore and trembling.

It didn’t matter.

Chapter Text

Erik’s body didn’t stop trembling when he entered his flat. It didn’t stop while he was showering, nor while he was trying to fall asleep.

It still shivered violently when he woke up. Erik just sighed, coughed and decided to shrug it off as he usually did. For some reason his immune system was in a terrible state – he spent like two months of winter with a permanent runny nose. He always just ignored it. It didn’t matter anyway.

He thought he will do it now, but then he vomited after eating breakfast and almost suffocated over the toilet seat, a coughing fit making his lungs burn. Maybe it was something more serious this time.

Wanda poked her head through the bathroom door, wrinkling her nose.

“You threw up” she stated instead of asking.

“It’s nothing” he rasped out, his throat burning just like his lungs. He couldn’t help but feel shame that she sees him in this moment of weakness. She shouldn’t have witnessed that.

Unfortunately his daughter had proven to be smarter and more responsible than him many times (especially when it came to homework, because sometimes he looked blankly at their books and just said “what do they teach you at this school nowadays”). She disappeared from the doorway while Erik slowly stood up from the floor and leaned on the wall, suddenly too weak to stand on his own. He splashed his face with water, only realizing that he has been burning up for the whole time when he felt relief wash over him with the cold.

When he dried his face Wanda came back to the bathroom with a glass of water.

“Thank you, sweetheart” he said before drinking. It did little to help with his burning throat.

“We’re leaving for school” she informed him. “It would be nice if you didn’t die while we’re out”

Erik looked at her, raising his eyebrows. He didn’t remember being so smart-mouthed when he was fourteen.

Wanda was not him, though. Even if sometimes he felt that she was turning out a little bit too much like him. She didn’t get into fights (or at least didn’t do it on her own; when she saw Pietro do it, she usually joined) like Erik did, but she tried to keep all of her problems to herself, resolve all of her issues on her own, kept quiet about them. She worked hard for a scholarship like Erik did when he was her age. She was stubborn, she was ambitious, she wanted something more from life, and Erik was so, so proud of her, but he was also afraid that he’s failing her.

He wanted his daughter to study so well because she thinks about her future, not to get a scholarship so she doesn’t have to ask him for money. He would much rather she whined about not wanting to do the chores instead of voluntarily helping him. He didn’t want her or any of his kids to see that he’s struggling, no matter how bad it is.

“I will do my best” he replied sarcastically, then coughing again. He felt his head spin. He closed his eyes, feeling nauseous again. It was probably better that his children were leaving. They won’t see him like this.

Erik didn’t go to work. Instead he shivered under a duvet, sweating horribly and cursing himself for being so stupid last night and not taking that goddamn taxi. He didn’t think that walk will led him to that state, but honestly, when does he ever think? He was such a fucking idiot. How could he not foreseen the consequences? All because he was feeling like brooding over being in love with a guy out of his league. Truly pathetic. He shouldn’t have done it. He shouldn’t be still doing this. He should be working and earning money to provide for his family. He should be doing something instead of laying curled up on the bed and feeling as if he’s about to either vomit again or suffocate. He should be something better.

Erik was, undeniably, something; he was flesh and blood, a still-breathing organism, a man, a father, a worker, a toy, and while he was it all, sometimes he wondered if among these things there is still some place left for his humanity. Erik wasn’t sure if he wanted it to be. Everything would be easier if he was just a machine. If he could just undo a few bolts and see what’s wrong with him, fix it and put himself back together. Machines were so much easier in maintenance than people. Maybe if Erik was a machine someone could just hit him like a TV remote that doesn’t want to work, and it would make everything alright. Even if it meant getting hit every time someone wanted to use him, Erik would take it if it fixed him. Erik would take anything if it made him better.

He should be able to do better, in every aspect of his life. He shouldn’t constantly long for a never-ending break. He shouldn’t be so weak, he shouldn’t be so tired. He shouldn’t avoid looking in the mirror every morning and wonder how many more days, hours, seconds he will have to keep going. He shouldn’t wonder if his sister or mother would be better at taking care of his kids if he’s gone.

Logically, Erik knew that how he lived, what he did and thought was not healthy. Maybe he could do something about it. Someday. Like therapy or whatever. He could get it when he has time and money to spend on it. Which will be roughly five years after Nina graduates from college.

Now he was coughing painfully, wondering if at some point he’s going to see blood on the tissue, given how ridiculously it hurt.

Erik was partially aware of time passing, at some point hearing someone entering the flat – or maybe he just imagined it. He didn’t have enough control of his muscles to actually stand up and see for himself. Forming coherent thoughts was only getting harder, waves of heat and cold rolling through him by turns. He should probably get up. Make dinner for his children, see if they need anything; but he was too weak to so much as open his eyes.

★★★★★

Charles entered the bar, instinctively running his hand through his hair to make sure that they are not ruffled in the messy way, but in the stylish way. He walked towards the bar, aiming to sit at one of the stools. He quickly noticed that only the red-skinned mutant is behind the bar, with Erik nowhere to be seen.

Confused, Charles sat down and waited for the barman to notice him.

“What can I get for you?” the man asked. If Charles remembered correctly – and he was sure that he did – his name was Azazel.

“Something alcohol-free” he said quickly, because Erik’s unexpected absence changed his plans. The bartender suggested some drink and Charles agreed, not even thinking about it. He was more focused on why Erik wasn’t here. He came here with the sole purpose of meeting him again, already missing him after their last, wonderful night together. He often caught himself thinking about Erik between their meetings. For him their relationship stopped being strictly sexual a long time ago. He was practically bound to fall in love with Erik – and the last night gave him hope that Erik might feel the same.

When the mutant set a drink in front of him, and there was still no Erik in sight, he decided to ask.

“Excuse me” he said, and the bartenders’ attention was back on him. “Do you happen to know where Erik is?”

The man looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“He called in sick. Didn’t tell you?” he asked.

Charles’ eyes widened in surprise, because no, Erik didn’t tell him.

He shook his head.

“No, he didn’t. Thank you”

Charles sipped on his drink, wondering what to do. Theoretically Erik was under no obligation to tell him, but it would be nice to know. If only to be able to help him out if he needed it. Actually, maybe Charles should visit him. He knew where Erik lived, though he never was there before, and he wanted to see how Erik’s feeling.

After finishing the drink he decided that this was the right thing to do. He left the bar and called a cab.

Erik’s flat was on the fourth floor, and Charles really regretted that this block doesn’t have a working elevator, because stairs were not his friends. After finally getting there and taking a few deeper breaths, he knocked on the door.

He was answered by a teenage girl. She had dark brown hair, tanned skin and green eyes, and Charles’ first thought was that she looked nothing like Erik. Call that his déformation professionnelle, unconsciously finding genetics everywhere.

She had, however, one similarity to Erik: her facial expression told Charles that she would much rather he fucked off.

“Good evening” he said, not giving out under her gaze. “You must be Wanda”

“And you are...?” the girl asked, not confirming nor denying whether he’s right.

“I’m Charles Xavier, your father’s... friend” Charles replied, hesitating a split second before saying friend.

There was a spark of recognition in Wanda’s eyes; perhaps Erik told his children who he meets up with from time to time.

“Sorry, dad is asleep. And ill. You can come around some other day” she said. Her hand, which never left the door, began to close it.

“Maybe I can help in any way?” he asked quickly. He couldn’t help being worried. He wanted to see for himself how Erik was doing. Besides, he doubted you can get much rest alone with three children. Though he didn’t have kids, maybe he just was ignorant and entirely wrong about it.

Wanda, meanwhile, weighted her options. She too was worried. She knew that her dad thought of her as a child (which she theoretically was, but that doesn’t matter), perhaps infantilized how she and her siblings see the world (so did most adults) and didn’t want help from her, even if he needed it. He thought that she doesn’t know he’s hiding from them any time he might show weakness. She did, and sometimes she could feel what he does if he projected too strongly. Always unknowingly, always when he lost control – like right now.

When Wanda’s powers had first manifested and nobody knew their full extent, one night she woke up in pain so strong she cried. Her dad heard it and came to her room. When his thoughts shifted completely to what was happening with her, the pain stopped.

It took a few more situations like that – feeling her ankle hurt when Pietro twisted his, accidentally making a book tear itself to shreds when her classmate was angry, crying at nights again – before she realized that it was the beginning of her psychic abilities.

When she told her dad about it, his first question was if she knows how to stop it. That seemed reasonable then, but now Wanda was older, and she suspected what made her cry at nights when she was six, or why it stopped so quickly after she shared her discovery.

It also explained why her dad was so good at shielding his mind (as long as he wasn’t too sick to control it, that is). Wanda too was better at it herself now.

While he was good at it, he only shielded when he wanted to hide, when his feelings were negative. Wanda didn’t wake up in pain anymore, but she could feel a soft whiff of tenderness and happiness when dad would tell them that he’s going out, and she would know that it means he has a meeting with this Charles again.

Dad had this same tenderness in his voice when he talked about mom, or when he told them that he loved them.

“If you insist” she said, moving from the doorway to let him in. If she can’t get to her dad, maybe this friend/boyfriend/situationship of his can.

★★★★★

A voice. A damp cloth on his forehead. Erik wasn’t sure whether he’s imagining those things or not. Shivers shook his body, his cough was suffocating him and he felt so, so tired.

His fever-ridden brain barely could find enough energy to keep him breathing, not even speaking of analyzing whatever stimuli that managed to get through the fog surrounding him.

Erik felt a hand brush through his hair. He slowly opened his eyes to see Charles, the image a bit blurred, but it was clearly him. Charles said something, but Erik was to busy trying to process what he just saw to understand what.

Charles, meanwhile, felt his stomach squirm with concern. Erik was looking at him, but his eyes didn’t seem to register what they saw. His cheeks were flushed because of the fever, his hair damp with sweat. Charles could see the hickeys he left on his neck yesterday.

He hesitantly entered Erik’s hazed mind, hoping that he will be able to get some information out of him without having to resort to mind-reading.

“Erik. Erik” he repeated. There was confusion in Erik’s mind, but it looked like he finally heard what Charles was saying. “Focus a bit for me, darling. How are you feeling?” he said with concern. Erik still couldn’t understand what was going on. Charles. Charles? How…?

Oh, he was hallucinating again. How sweet. For now, this one was nice. He could pretend that it was real and Charles really cared about him.

“I promise you I’m real, Erik”

“You always say that” he muttered. They always did. At first it was Magda. Telling him that she’s back, that he did a good job taking care of their kids, but now she’s back and everything will be alright.

Then he would wake up and she wasn’t real, and nothing was alright.

For the last weeks, though, it was Charles. Those dreams – or nightmares – were rarely pleasant. Sometimes Charles from his dreams would fuck him into the mattress, and Erik would wake up cursing himself, because surely Charles only thought about him while with him, and Erik should do the same. Sometimes Charles would act like Magda, saying how proud he is and that he loves him. Loves him. Sometimes he would laugh at him for being so stupid, for thinking that he could be more than just a whore to him. He always looked so beautiful. His smile mocking, his voice full of contempt, but Erik couldn’t look away.

All those dreams led to one thing, so at some point Erik stopped recognizing them as separate. There was no difference between being loved and hated by Charles when both of those were just his imagination.

Charles looked at him with confusion. He squeezed Erik’s hand.

“I assure you, Erik, this time I’m real-real”

“You always assure me” Erik rasped out before emerging into a coughing fit. He turned on his side so it’s easier for him to breathe, the cloth falling of his forehead. Charles picked it up from the pillow so it doesn’t get it wet. Erik wondered if it was also a part of the hallucination, if he imagined Charles picking it up and it was still laying there, but his delirious brain just couldn’t see it. Or if it was ever there in the first place.

He could, however, see Charles; he could feel his touch, hear his voice, and wonder how ill or insane he must be. Such a ridiculous, selfish fantasy: someone taking care of him, brushing their fingers through his hair, asking how he feels. Erik didn’t want to wake up, snap out of this dream, cry because it wasn’t real again. It never was. Why would it be now?

The thought sent shivers down his spine – or maybe it was the fever. It was so cold, just as cold as last night when he wept on an empty street for reasons that didn’t matter – or so he told himself.

“Erik” he heard. Oh, how he wished it was real. He felt a hand on his shoulder, so warm he almost believed it was really there. “I think it’s something serious. Maybe we should go to the hospital?”

Why would Erik’s own hallucination suggest something he would never do? Maybe it was something about the subconscious, knowing deep down that he should at least consider it, which he won’t do until he’ll be actively dying. The thought alone about the hospital bill made him want to throw up again.

“You “actively dying” is not something I would want to see, Erik” Charles said. Erik wished he would not only touch his arm, but also everything else. He was sure it would make him warmer.

“I could do that, Erik, if you’re fine with your hallucination hugging you”

“Wouldn’t be the first time” Erik muttered, and if anything it only made Charles more concerned. He touched Erik’s forehead. It seemed that the meds he had to basically shove into his mouth didn’t start working yet, his temperature worryingly high.

Charles leaned his cane against the nightstand, quickly sliding under the duvet and wrapping his arms around Erik. He could feel how badly the man was trembling. He started rubbing his hand against his back. Erik’s mind was full of chaos.

“It’s going to be okay, darling” he whispered, but it did nothing to calm the storm in Erik’s head.

It never is, Erik thought. It was always just an empty promise. He was probably bringing it upon himself, his mind using his biggest desire against him. Just go to sleep, and when you wake up everything will be fine. Lies, lies, lies. Erik stopped believing in them long time ago.

“It will be, Erik. Trust me”

“You’re not even real” he stubbornly said. This Charles was so good to him, but it was not real. Real Charles doesn’t love him and wouldn’t bother looking after him. Real Charles doesn’t even know that Erik wants him to do it. Real Charles has no idea how much he means to Erik, and he won’t ever learn about it. Erik will just continue to take what he can and won’t ask for more. There would be no use in that. No use in trying to trap Charles in a relationship with someone as broken, bitter, poor as Erik, who barely has time to meet him once a week. So Erik won’t. No matter how desperately and violently he cares, how much he loves him and how much it hurts.

Erik won’t, but it was so, so exhausting. He was so, so tired, so exasperated, the thought about doing absolutely anything made him want to curl up on the floor and sob. He always swallowed that feeling down, even if it felt like shards of glass in his throat. Sometimes he would unleash some of his emotions by crying into his pillow at nights, wasting the precious time he had for sleeping. It made him even more exhausted. He wished he could just never wake up – fall asleep in this warm embrace of his own delusion and never open his eyes again. He wished it had no consequences for anyone but him. That he could do it without hurting and abandoning his children.

Charles felt tears in his eyes, all the pain Erik felt so effortlessly finding a way into his head. He could see why did Erik end up in this state, what happened after their meeting. He could see how Erik thought of himself yesterday: fool, fool, worthless, naïve idiot, how could you ever think he would love you.

How could Charles never see it before? Those thoughts seemed to be so familiar in Erik’s mind, had their own, beaten tracks they moved through, circling and repeating, forming a loop that seemed to have no end. Charles rarely was in Erik’s head – only during sex, actually – but he should have noticed. He should’ve noticed and done something. He wanted to scream, tell Erik that it’s not true. I’m real, I’m here, I care about you, I love you, how can you think like that?

He tightened his hug around Erik and felt the man relax into his embrace, as if the thoughts he had at the very moment weren’t straight up suicidal.

“Erik” he whispered, barely holding back tears. “Oh, Erik, but I do love you”

“You always say that” Erik replied, unfazed. Charles was about to start sobbing hysterically.

“Go to sleep, Erik” he said instead.

Erik didn’t want to. He knew that the moment he falls asleep he will lose this, lose Charles that loves him. He was great at pretending, even in front of himself, but now he couldn’t find a reason to do it. It was just him, alone in this room, and pretending was exhausting. He didn’t have to pretend that he doesn’t care right now.

Soon he fell into a shallow, fitful sleep. Charles could see what he was dreaming about. He had to grit his teeth to not wake him up with his sobs.

★★★★★

When Erik woke up he was able to form thoughts again, so he assumed that his fever was gone.

He opened his eyes, sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. Another fucked up dream about Charles. How many can he have? Surely there has to be some limit. He can’t do it until he dies.

It really was high time to get his shit together, stop talking to Charles entirely and fall out of love. It was only causing him more problems, both mental and with his schedule. He couldn’t afford that. What Erik wants doesn’t matter.

His head was clear again. He could keep pretending.

He got up, realizing that his clothes are sweat-soaked. He sighed, took clean ones and went to the bathroom. He could smell some food, maybe pancakes. His kids were probably just making themselves breakfast.

Erik took a quick shower and changed, still coughing, but it was not making him double over and feel like he’s suffocating anymore. Maybe he will be able to go to work today. Or tomorrow, because when he glanced at the clock it turned out that it was almost ten. Ah, no, tomorrow was Sunday. On Monday, then. On Monday he goes to work.

Erik entered the kitchen and started to wonder how many wires he has detached for his hallucinations to continue.

“Good morning, Erik” Charles said when he noticed him. Erik opened his mouth and closed it, not knowing what the fuck is going on.

Again, Erik, you were unsuccessful at convincing me that I’m not real.

Oh god. He was- Charles was here, real Charles, and- convincing? Charles was there yesterday, and Charles was taking care of him, and he fell asleep in Charles’ arms for the first time. Erik was sure that his cheeks were red and his eyes said more than his mouth could ever.

“Good morning” he finally said weakly. His voice sounded absolutely terrible. He cleared his throat.

“I hope you don’t mind that I stayed for the night. I just wanted to make sure you’re going to be fine”

Fine? Erik almost began to laugh; he was more than fine right now. Actually, he may be going insane. Or dying. He could be dying and his mind decided to show him something nice before he passes away.

Or maybe Charles was real this time. Of course the first option was more probable, but Erik chose not to doubt it, at least for a moment. Maybe it was a foolish decision, but he made it regardless.

He realized that Charles was probably expecting an answer.

“No, no, it’s fine. Thank you” he blurted out. He was about to start slamming his head against the wall for making a fucking fool out of himself again. He needed the ground to swallow him whole, now.

Charles smiled at him, but there was concern visible in his eyes.

“Of course, dear. Will you join us?”

“We’ve made breakfast, and Charles is even worse cook than Pietro” Wanda chimed in, walking to the table with a portion of pancakes freshly taken off the pan. Charles and Pietro both said “hey!” in offended tones.

Erik decided that he needs to stop standing in the doorway like an absolute idiot.

He sat at the table with them and ate a few bites without feeling nauseous – a good sign. While he did it he kept stealing glances at Charles, who seemed to be getting along well with his children, chatting with them freely. This sight made him feel butterflies in his stomach. Against himself he kept thinking how wonderful it would be to see this every day, which was just downright stupid. Having this daily was such an absurd idea, such an unreal one. He didn’t know why Charles stayed. Maybe he just didn’t want him to fucking die. He shouldn’t have bothered. Now Erik was imagining unlikely things because of that. Charles was just nice to him and Erik wanted to use it, use him, force him to stay with him ‘cause he has delusions about feelings.

Erik didn’t feel Pietro’s eyes on him. The boy repeatedly poked Wanda in the arm with his finger, trying to get her attention.

“What?” she asked, turning to him. Pietro tilted his head towards their dad.

“He wants that cookie so effing bad” he whispered. His sister laughed quietly.

“Yeah, he totally does” she whispered back.

Charles took the last sip of his tea, his eyes fixing on Erik.

“Can we talk?” he asked, adding in private telepathically.

“Sure” Erik said, surprised. They both stood up from the table, and Erik could only hope that his hands won’t tremble to give away how nervous he is. Did he do something particularly embarrassing last night? He didn’t remember a lot from it. What if he accidentally told Charles the truth, confessed?

Charles looked at him with this strange, deep concern. Too deep for it to be justified by Erik being sick.

“Okay, just tell me. Did I do something weird yesterday?” he blurted out, because it didn’t look like Charles was about to start speaking. His eyes widened a bit with surprise at Erik’s words.

“Well, except for stubbornly claiming I’m a hallucination, nothing weird happened” he said. He didn’t mention that Erik admitted it wouldn’t be the first time he hallucinated or dreamed about Charles, and that he thought only Charles from his imagination loved him.

“God, sorry for that” he muttered.

So fucking embarrassing he’s going to think I’m a weirdo he’s going to think I’m retarded he’s going to hate me he’s going to hate me he’s never going to love me he’s never going to-

Charles shook his head.

“Don’t be. You were delirious”

Delirious and honest, in front of himself and Charles. Maybe even too honest – but Charles was immensely grateful for that.

“But you did say…” Charles began, and Erik felt his relief disappear immediately. “You said that you love me”

Erik felt his stomach turn, the perspective of vomiting very real again. Oh no. No, no, no. His hands were definitely trembling now, he felt as if air escaped his lungs and refused to go back and allow him to breathe. A pang of pain in his chest almost made him yelp with pain.

“Charles, I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t- ”

Charles immediately shortened the distance between them, his cane falling to the floor with a loud thud when he took Erik’s hands in his. He rested his body weight on his right leg, squeezing Erik’s hands.

The look of pure horror on his face made Charles feel like his heart broke.

“No, Erik, it’s okay. It’s okay. You have so much anxiety in you, darling” he said softly, looking in Erik’s eyes – though they didn’t seem to be able to see him. His thumb caressed Erik’s skin. “That’s completely unnecessary. I love you too”

Erik felt his head spin. Okay. It’s okay. He just went insane. Or he’s still dreaming. He surely has to be dreaming. What a crazy, long, beautifully absurd dream. He was going to start sobbing any moment.

“I love you, Erik. You’re so much more to me than you think you are. I know it started as just a hookup, but I really fell for you. I didn’t know you felt the same until yesterday”

What a beautiful dream, and how unrealistic one at that. But Charles’ hands were on his, and he could feel every finger, every inch of the soft skin and the warmth – so Erik chose to believe in it. maybe because he was stupid, maybe because he was desperate, or maybe because he hoped it won’t end for once.

“You- ” he choked out in disbelief. He was fighting so hard not to cry.

“Yes, Erik. I love you”

The next thing Erik knew was that Charles wrapped his arms around him, leaning on him a bit so it’s easier for him to stand. Erik returned the hug, his breathing hitched, but no tears falling from his eyes. Normal people don’t usually cry upon hearing a love confession. Ruining this can’t be the first thing he does. It will happen someday, when Charles inevitably realizes how much of a broken, worthless mess Erik is, but for now he wanted to cling to the illusion.

“I’d kiss you” he said “but I don’t want you to get sick too”

Charles laughed, and Erik felt the vibrations in his chest, just as the strange warmth. It spread through his body like fire on a piece of paper. It felt so much different from the ache he felt at nights, so much better. Erik wasn’t sure if he deserves it.

Charles slowly broke the hug, lifting his head to look in Erik’s eyes. He seemed more conscious this time.

“Go lay down, darling. You’re still ill” he said. He should tell Erik about what he saw in his head, that he knows how exhausted Erik is, how much it hurts him, how badly he needs help. He was too afraid that it will only make things worse – Erik will try to deny it, they will argue, and maybe Erik’s thoughts will stop being only thoughts. Charles dreaded that possibility.

“It’s nothing serious” Erik protested, and Charles scoffed.

“Yeah, sure. I thought I would have to call an ambulance for a moment yesterday. You scared the shit out of me, and I don’t want that repeating”

“Don’t call an ambulance for me”

“I will if you’ll need it” Charles said, poking Erik in his chest will his finger. “Go, rest for a bit. I’ll take care of you, love”

Erik was speechless for a moment, fearing that if he opens his mouth butterflies will fly out. Or he will just blurt out “marry me” and embarrass himself further.

“Okay” he muttered, because even though he felt like he shouldn’t, Charles just called him “love” and told him that he will take care of him, and nobody did it for so long, Erik’s brain just short-circuited. He truly was a fool in love – with a strong emphasis on “fool”.

Chapter Text

Charles watched Erik’s chest rise and fall, his breathing slow and steady. Charles could feel that his sleep was deeper than when he had a fever those few days ago, and no dreams disturbed his much needed rest. Though that second one was mostly Charles’ doing – he quickly realized that most of Erik’s dreams were closer to nightmares in their nature.

If Charles was going to be honest, Erik was a bit of a nightmare to take care of. He kept insisting that he’s fine, even though Charles could see that he’s not. He kept dismissing his state and tried to refuse any help – but the moment Charles covered him with a blanket and hugged him, he passed out instantly. It worried Charles, but when he looked at Erik, so peaceful, cuddled to him, no eye bags under his eyes perhaps for the first time since Charles met him, he couldn’t help but smile at how absolutely adorable he was.

It’s been five days since he decided to visit. Five days since he saw the horrid, painful thoughts in Erik’s head. Five days since he felt as if someone gutted him, knowing what Erik goes through and how good he is at hiding it from him. From everyone. He still hasn’t talked to him about this.

Charles knew that he should, but the thought alone about doing it made him feel nauseous. What was he supposed to say? How does he tell Erik that he’s afraid for Erik’s life because of something he saw in his head?

The rhythm of Erik’s breathing changed. He rolled onto his side, his hands unconsciously reaching for Charles. Telepath felt his arms wrap around him, his own hand doing the same, his fingers brushing against Erik’s temple to ensure that he stays asleep.

Erik was feeling significantly better than those few days ago when Charles found him delirious. Charles was glad to see that, but it also resulted in getting into minor arguments, because Erik stubbornly wanted to return to work before fully recovering. So far Charles managed to lure him into staying at home, but he knew that he won’t be able to do it for much longer.

While Erik has been sleeping properly lately, Charles slept much worse. Probably because what he saw – those thoughts, horrible ideas he was so afraid Erik will attempt to realize – kept him awake.

Now, his heart was still beating steadily, his mind and breathing calm. Charles was sure that he would notice if it changed.

★★★★★

Sometimes Erik felt like he couldn’t breathe.

There were moments when he really couldn’t, his lungs burning with pain as he struggled to take another irregular gasp. During those moments tears would stream down his face, and then he would have to wait until the redness around his eyes disappears before facing the world again. He never felt ready to do it.

Other times, everything was fine physically. He could feel air enter and leave his respiratory system, his body working as it should. Nothing hurt, yet his breath still came shorter than expected from a man laying down and trying to fall asleep. It was as if he could never catch it, chasing loss of weight on his chest and wire around his throat just as he chased all the other unachievable things.

Erik wasn’t so young anymore, and he was perfectly aware that he can’t run forever – whether he wants to chase or escape something, one day he won't be able to continue doing it. As long as he can, though, he has to. It doesn't matter if he wants a break. He should be able to do it without breaks. Without breaking.

Then Charles came into his life and decided to stop him – even if the only way to do it was punching him in the stomach so he falls and can’t stand up.

That day Charles texted him asking if Erik can come over in the evening. Erik, of course, agreed. He just hoped that he won’t do anything idiotic (which would be in character for him), and that he won’t be anxious enough for Charles to see it.

As it turned out, with all the upsides, dating Charles made Erik discover a new level of anxiety he didn’t know was achievable. It always started innocently. Charles is late for a date (which sometimes happened), so at first Erik just waits. A minute later he’s doubting if Charles will show up at all, but that’s fine; he has more important things to do than meeting with Erik. Maybe he doesn’t want to meet Erik today. Maybe he doesn’t want to meet him anymore, because the scales finally fell from his eyes and he realized who the fuck he has been seeing for this whole time. Maybe Erik will get a text in which Charles breaks up with him, or maybe he won’t even bother with that. He’ll leave without a word. Just like that one thought led to another, more absurd and less probable than the previous ones, and before Erik could realize it his hands were trembling and he was holding back tears.

Then Charles showed up and apologized for being late, immediately pulling Erik into a conversation. It was a bit one-sided at first, because Erik needed a moment to calm down from the self-induced anxiety, and for the lump in his throat to disappear. Charles’ voice would fill his head instead of the panicked thoughts, and he gradually joined him in his chatter.

And then he would feel guilty for doubting Charles, but that was material for another anxiety attack, late at night.

Erik was used to his thoughts spiraling out of control, but knowing that they were all absurd and unhealthy didn’t make him able to stop it.

His anxiety shouldn’t control him so much – he was perfectly aware of that. Well, nothing he could do about it. Sometimes he was so afraid of nothing in particular, but also everything at the same time, he threw up in between sobs. That’s humiliating and definitely not an information about him he’d like to share with anyone.

Charles’ presence, ridiculously enough, made his anxiety both stronger and weaker. That depended on the circumstances, one of them being how paralyzed with fear he was at the moment. There was so much to be afraid of, Erik didn’t know how to stop. Stopping being scared seemed like something worth being afraid of.

Another thing worth being afraid of was the inevitable abandonment he could feel creeping up to him and couldn’t stop. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to prevent it. Prolong that state of things as much as he can, yes, but leaving him would be better for Charles. Erik was not going to force himself between him and his happiness just because he’s in love and mentally unstable.

He was currently giving himself another proof of that, feeling like he’s about to vomit, his stomach twisting like a knot, his breath coming short again, the world around him and whatever Charles was saying to him a complete blur. Such a hysterical, painful moment – and yet he was standing in front of Charles like paralyzed, unable to say anything, unable to explain himself, to deny the obvious, to run away. He could only hear Charles’ “I need to tell you something, Erik”, “I know about it all”, “It worries me, Erik” ringing in his ears.

Charles knew how broken he was – and he managed to put up with him for a bit regardless. It all made sense now: Charles told him that he loves him because he thought that Erik was mentally unwell to the point where he would do something to himself if Charles didn’t reciprocate his feelings. He was just a decent person and didn’t want to have him on his conscience.

He should get a fucking award for acting skills.

Erik was half aware that Charles’ hand squeezed his.

“Erik, please, say something” he pleaded, his eyes wide with worry and fixed on Erik’s panicked face.

Erik whipped his hand out of Charles’ grip. He needed to leave before he fucking throws up in Charles’ bedroom.

Obviously Erik was not worth Charles’ time, Charles’ money, Charles’ effort and Charles as a whole, but he couldn’t just admit to that in front of him. As much as he wanted to scream it in his face and shake him, and force him to wake the fuck up and realize that whatever image of Erik he has in his mind it’s false, he couldn’t do this. He knew Charles will get to that conclusion by himself, but Erik thought that if he hides well it will take time. That way he could pretend it will never happen.

Sometimes Erik thought that he spent the entire last decade of his life pretending, but he was not going to stop. As long as it worked at least partially, he won’t stop. It was an equivalent of duck-taping his life together, and of course it will all go to shit someday, but that was always future Erik’s problem. Present Erik was meant to grit his teeth harder and change more, stop crying at nights and let Charles think that this relationship can work out for him.

He failed at it so miserably it was just pathetic.

Erik felt the sour taste of vomit in his mouth, and soon there was also a hand on his shoulder that only made him panic more. He realized he was on the bathroom floor. He didn’t know how did he get here. He heard a worried voice next to him.

“It’s okay, darling. It’s okay. Do you want me to bring you some water?”

Darling. Erik felt as if he was going to throw up again.

“No. Sorry. I’m sorry. Just- let me leave” he stuttered. Let me leave, as if he still needed Charles’ approval after the confession that made it clear: everything is already over.

He didn’t even dare to look at Charles while he spoke.

“I don’t think you should leave now, Erik. You’re… pretty shaken. And I still want to talk to you about this”

“Let me leave and you can forget you ever knew me at all” Erik said, panicking. He was too weak, too broken and he destroyed everything. As it turned out, he did it before it even started. Pathetic, pathetic, utterly humiliating and in a hundred percent his own fault.

“Erik, love, why would I do this? I just want to help. Talk to me, please. The things I saw in your head…”

“Nobody invited you there!”

Erik finally turned his head to look at Charles’ hurt expression. No, no, no. Charles didn’t deserve to get hurt. Not like this, not by him, not ever.

“And when would you tell me about this if I didn’t find out on my own?”

The answer to that question was simple: Erik wouldn’t. Why is Charles asking such a stupid question? Erik wouldn’t. Nobody would, for fuck’s sake, nobody in their right mind – but that was not how Erik would describe himself.

“I don’t want to hear that. I manage on my own perfectly fine. What’s going on in my head is my business”

“This is not fine, Erik!” Charles snapped, his fingers digging into Erik’s arm. “It stopped being your business long time ago. I can’t ignore this when I’m afraid you might- that you might- ”

His voice was breaking and he couldn’t finish that sentence, as if he was afraid of jinxing it by saying it out loud. Erik wasn’t.

“I’m not going to fucking kill myself, Charles, I have children”

“This should not be your only reason for staying alive! What if one day it stops being enough?” he asked, tears in his eyes. Erik gritted his teeth and looked away, because he had thought about it already. It couldn’t be called a plan, but an option he considered. Someday, when they will all have their own families, and when they won’t need him anymore, he could finally do it without leaving them alone.

“And why would you even care?” he asked instead of answering Charles’ question.

“Because I love you, you idiot! I don’t want you to hurt yourself! And I don’t want you to think about yourself the way you do”

Charles could understand it better than Erik thought. He saw just a bit of Erik’s suffering, but it was enough to know. After all, he had been there before.

“Oh, fuck off” Erik scoffed, rapidly standing up, almost making Charles fall with his movement. He suppressed the urge to reach out and ensure that Charles won’t, steady him and apologize. “I don’t need your pity”

“Erik!”

He ignored Charles’ call, basically storming out of the bathroom, even though he felt like he was going to fall over any moment. He took his jacket in his hand, not wasting time on putting it on. Charles was right behind him, still yelling something, but it was all a blur.

Erik slammed the door to Charles’ apartment shut. Charles didn’t try to follow him.

★★★★★

Having a panic attack on a bench in the park was admittedly not very ideal, but when was anything in Erik’s life more than that?

Buying a cigarette pack and smoking almost half of them, one after another, was probably on a similar level of ideal, but Erik could barely control what he’s doing, not even thinking about the fact that he’s supposed to care. He started to care a little bit when he felt like he was going to throw up again. That’s when he put the pack in his pocket for later. Buying it was a bad choice. Keeping it was a bad choice. He’s worked so hard not to relapse into a nicotine addiction. He and Magda decided to quit smoking together when she first got pregnant, and now he threw almost fifteen years of sticking to that resolution away. Bad choices. They were everywhere, all over his life.

It was late, so nobody normal or sober was outside. And even if somebody was, then they didn’t bat an eye to a man hyperventilating on a bench. It was fine by Erik. He would rather be alone now. And it looked like he will be, forever. That’s going to be better for him and everyone else. It’d be better if he didn’t start dating Charles at all. It’d be better if he didn’t agree to the first hookup. It’d be better if he didn’t exist to enter Charles’ life, hurt him and leave. All he does is fucking hurting people.

It was cold again. Nothing new. His jacket was too thin. He should buy a new one, but he was avoiding it for reasons unclear even for him. Maybe he just felt that he didn’t deserve it. What did he do to earn the comfort of being warm? Nothing. Just as he didn’t do anything to earn Charles’ love. He should have never let himself believe that this could be true. Such a fool, fool, worthless, stupid fool. He should have never let himself hope.

Erik took out another cigarette and tried to light it with a shaking hand. It took him a moment to succeed at that. He drew on it slowly. It tasted even worse than he remembered.

He unsteadily stood up, smoke escaping his lungs and mouth. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to feel something again.

Chapter Text

Wanda watched as another plate lifted itself from the sink, the sponge cleaning it on its own. Both items were surrounded by faint, scarlet light.

It was evening, and her father wasn’t home, even though he should be. She had no idea where he was. And why Charles suddenly disappeared from his life. What she knew was that her dad was not taking it well – though “not well” might be an understatement of the century in this case. She had no idea what happened – Erik just didn’t go out, Charles didn’t come over; he did it regularly and then just… stopped. A shame, really. He had the original edition of Lord of the rings and promised to show her.

Wanda saw how hard Erik tries to pretend that everything is alright in front of them, as he always did. Maybe his absence was caused by this. If he’s not home, he doesn’t have the audience to play for. If it made it easier for him to deal with what she and her siblings assumed was a breakup, then she supposed she can wait a day or two before getting into another argument that will go the same way as the previous ones. You’re neglecting us, I know, I’m sorry, you promised you won’t do that again, I’m sorry, I love you.

Wanda watched as the plate put itself away, and then her power reached for another one.

She could wait.

★★★★★

Wanda heard the door close and open suspiciously loudly. She immediately turned the light off. Her dad often said that she shouldn’t stay up so late studying. She can just pretend that she’s sleeping for a moment.

She heard loud steps and some muttered words. She furrowed her eyebrows, looking towards the door to her room. She briefly wondered whether Erik brought someone home, but that seemed very, very unlikely.

She cautiously slid from her chair and peeked through the door. When she didn’t see anything she walked out, wondering if she won’t see something she doesn’t want to in a moment. That would require finding someone willing to erase her memories.

She looked from behind the corner and saw her father swaying on his feet.

She quickly came back to her room, where she couldn’t feel the weak smell of alcohol.

★★★★★

It was a Monday morning, and they all should be chewing on their breakfast faster, but neither of them could bring themselves to do it.

Wanda told Pietro she fell asleep before Erik came home. That she didn’t even know when he did it nor if he got any sleep. Based on his looks, she assumed the answer to that second question was “no”.

He was currently standing with his back turned to them, making himself coffee – and Wanda was sure it was at least a third one.

She and Pietro eyed each other. Her brother was eating with one hand and playing with some fidget toy with the other.

“I think he misses that cookie” he muttered, looking at their father. Wanda rolled her eyes. She knew that jokes were what Pietro spewed when he felt uncomfortable, but sometimes it was irritating. Especially when she didn’t find the situation funny in the slightest.

Though she had to admit that Pietro was right. She couldn’t find any other explanation for their dad’s odd behavior.

“So effing bad” she mumbled to him, her eyes fixing on her half-emptied plate.

★★★★★

Pietro knew that he should be asleep, really, but… he wasn’t.

Not his fault, okay? (Totally his.) It was the rabbit hole of How It’s Actually Made. He was even meaning to go to sleep (he wasn’t) when something else distracted him.

The door to their flat got basically slammed shut. Then he heard curses. Knowing that this should not be happening, he jumped out of the bed and checked it in the blink of an eye.

He was back in his room even quicker than he left it. He couldn’t say that he liked what he had just witnessed.

It was the first time he saw his father drunk… ever. Slightly tipsy when he came back from dates with Charles or when they were visiting Oma, Opa and Tante Ruth in Germany, yes, but never this level of wasted.

Pietro decided to go to Wanda about it, since she was the one that tended to solve problems instead of causing them.

He unceremoniously shook his sister awake, though he tried to be quiet to not wake Nina up too. Wanda immediately started cursing him and hit him with a pillow, but he (after hitting her back) ignored the insults.

“I need your brain. The rest of you can stay asleep”

Wanda sat up, rolling her eyes.

“Fuck off, Pietro. Tomorrow” she muttered.

“Today” he protested. “First of all because it is today already, and second, I may forget. So, don’t you think dad has been miserable for long enough?”

Wanda scoffed, brushing her hair from her face.

“This is why you decided to wake me up?” she asked. “It’s not our job to solve his problems”

Pietro grimaced at that. He knew that Wanda was angry at their father for his behavior.  He was angry too, but he definitely didn’t match her in it. Pietro accepted that he will never be as good as his father wanted him to be long time ago. It was painful, sure, but when you stop caring so much about fulfilling expectations, you were freed from most of the pressure. Wanda wasn’t like him: she put even more pressure on herself, she was the responsible one who did things without being told to. Pietro would say that while he cares too less, she cared too much. She couldn’t leave anything undone, so if someone (cough, cough, their father, cough) didn’t cook dinner, she did, and if someone didn’t help Nina with her homework, she did, and if nobody volunteered for a school project, she did, and so on, and so on. It wasn’t hard to notice that she was becoming just as overworked as their dad, and it frustrated her endlessly, because she understood that she was a child and not a second parent for them. If dad didn’t have time for her, she didn’t have time for him.

Pietro couldn’t say that she was wrong, and that he wasn’t frustrated like her, but the simplest solution to their problem was pressing the “fuck, go back” button. Maybe before ending his weird situationship thingy their dad didn’t have a lot of time for them either, but at least they interacted at all.

“He just came home” he said, deciding that he’ll try to convince her to help him.

“And? It’s…” she trailed off, looking at the clock. “2 a.m. It’s not the latest. Could’ve been worse”

“He’s drunk”

Wanda furrowed her eyebrows.

“Drunk?” Again?

“Like, wasted-drunk. Barely-standing-drunk”

Wanda eyed the door, as if she expected their dad to suddenly appear there. He never got drunk before. He always seemed to be too responsible to get wasted when he was the only adult in a home with three children, and now it was the second time one of them caught him intoxicated. How many times it went unnoticed?

“Okay” she muttered. “So how are we supposed to fix that?”

Pietro’s eyes glistened with mischief, and Wanda started to regret that she asked.

“We just need to get him and Charles together again”

“Where do we start?”

Pietro raised his eyebrows, because he expected an eye-roll and a “that’s the dumbest idea you could come up with”, not such a passive agreement. Then, he got hit with the pillow again.

“Go back to sleep, Nina” Wanda said and glared at him, her face saying see what you did, you idiot? Yeah, his sisters’ voices were a tad bit different. Plus he should have known there’s no way Wanda would say that.

“Yeah, Nina, go to sleep. The adults are talking”

Now Nina threw a pillow at him. Really, were they conspiring against him? Besides, Pietro totally didn’t say that because he knew it will irritate her.

“You’re planning something without me again” she said, her tone accusatory.

“Pietro is just coming up with dumb ideas, kleine” Wanda whispered, quieter than her siblings.

“Yeah, of course. You can’t hide everything from me, I’m not a fucking child!”

Pietro’s jaw dropped. He turned his head to look at Wanda, her eyes wide, a comically shocked and taken aback expression on her face.

“Shh!” she whispered furiously. “Nina, quieter! Pietro, look what you did!”

“What did I ever do?!” he asked, disorientated. Yelling while whispering sounded pretty funny, but now he was too surprised by what he has just heard to laugh at that.

“Where do you think she knows this word from?!”

“You say “fuck” all the time!” he pointed out, but then he realized what he had just said.

“See?” Wanda exclaimed, triumphant smirk on her face.

“Everyone in this house says “fuck”” Nina chimed in, making them rapidly look at her again. “And people at school do that too”

“Well, you are not allowed to” Wanda said, hoping that this will end the subject.

“And you are?”

“You’re not allowed to more” Pietro emphasized, and Nina rolled her eyes. Pietro thought that she was adapting a bit too much of Wanda’s mannerism. “At least not when dad is around”

Wanda elbowed him, but Nina grinned, and Pietro did too. First of all, he has to maintain his Cool Older Brother reputation; second, he cannot let Nina turn into Wanda. To protect both his younger sister and himself form this cruel fate.

“What? I’m pretty sure we also took our first steps in swearing at her age”

“You’re acting like you’re at least twenty years older than me”

“We may be. How old are you again? Five?”

Nina jumped from her bed and tried to snatch a pillow from Wanda’s, but Peter was faster. He made a mistake of throwing it at her instead of keeping it to himself, so she ended up having a fluffy weapon anyway. Wanda giggled and took the second pillow away before he could defend himself with it, so all he could do was pretend to be defeated by a ten-year-old who mercilessly basted him with a pillow.

When her breath was short and their laughter was getting a bit too loud, they settled down on Wanda’s bed to discuss their plan.

“Listen” he said, deciding to take the lead. “The plan is simple. Our problem is dad being miserable. The cause is – probably – that breakup with Charles. So what we need to do is make them talk like the adults they supposedly are”

“And how do we achieve that?” Wanda asked, looking at him with skepticism.

“See, and this is where you enter the scene”

Wanda rolled her eyes, sighing.

“Come on. We just have to get them to meet. Take his phone, find Charles’ number…”

“What do you need me for, then? You made a plan yourself”

“I need you to check my spelling when I’ll write a text”

Wanda snorted, and Pietro disappeared from the room for a moment. Erik’s phone was thrown carelessly on the table, which surprised him a bit. His father was usually the opposite of careless. He snatched it, took his own phone from his own room and was back in the girls’ room after half a second.

“Alright” he muttered, turning the device on and immediately grimacing because of how bright the screen was. “He has him saved as “Charles X”. I expected something like “Babe” and a heart emoji”

“Would you have your ex saved like that?”

“Yeah, right” he said, typing the number to his own phone. “What do I write?”

“That you’d rather pry into his relationship instead of focusing on yourself and your own boyfriend” she said, smirking.

“Pietro has a boyfriend?” Nina asked, immediately turning to him. “See, you never tell me anything”

“I have a friend” Pietro emphasized, feeling blush creep up his cheeks. “Who also happens to be a boy. Wanda is just… stupid”

He got elbowed for that while Nina giggled. Can’t have any privacy in this home. He very sincerely hates having siblings.

“Okay, let’s focus” he said, wanting to change the subject as soon as possible. “Seriously, what do I write?”

Wanda shrugged.

“An ice rink opened near. We can convince dad to go on Sunday. Give Charles the location and tell him that if he wants to meet him, he’ll be there. Also maybe wait with sending it till the morning”

Pietro stared at her unfazed expression for a moment before beginning to type the message. Whatever, he’ll forget about it for the next month if he doesn’t do it now.

“See? That’s why I woke you up” he said, poking her in her head. She grimaced, and he grinned. “You’re needless now. You can go back to sleep”

“Get the hell out of my room, then”

“With pleasure” he muttered. “I’m going to take Nina and teach her new swear words”

He grunted when he got hit with the pillow yet again.

“I already know the English ones. You can teach me something German”

“Do not” Wanda emphasized. “It’s literally almost three. Go to sleep, both of you”

Pietro rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically, and got up from the bed. Wanda handed him their dad’s phone.

“It’s low battery” she muttered. “Plug it in”

“You sure? It was on the table”

“Do you think he’ll remember that he didn’t do that?”

“Nah” Pietro said dismissively, waving his hand. “I’ll just keep my hands shaking, y’know, like in that Sherlock episode- ”

“Do not speak to me about Sherlock” Wanda cut him off. Pietro laughed as he got out of the room to put the phone in its place. While he only watched a few episodes, Wanda finished the show, got furious at the ending, watched a few movies (some older than their father), read all of the books and was a little bit insane about it. Sometimes Pietro looked at her (and Nina) and wondered why he’s the only one in the family diagnosed with some kind of neurodivergency.

★★★★★

A phone laying on the nightstand buzzed. Charles didn’t react; maybe if he pretends to be asleep, he really will doze off at some point.

The phone buzzed again. He let out a short sigh, opening his eyes. His hand reached blindly for the device. When he found it he turned on his stomach and turned the phone on. Two texts, unknown number. One was apologizing for the late hour. The second, however…

Charles blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes. No, the words were still there.

It’s 3 a.m., Pietro. Teenagers should get more sleep.

Satisfied with the reply that had absolutely nothing to do with the texts’ content, he put his phone back on the nightstand. He doubted he could fall asleep – not entirely because of them.

His worry was eating him away. His lips were chapped and hurt from chewing them in a nervous habit, his friends and sister began noticing how distracted he became. Every day was a fight between if he doesn’t want my help then I’ll leave him alone and if I won’t know what’s happening with him I’ll go insane.

Erik refused his help. Erik didn’t trust him. As it turned out, he actually did have a problem with Charles’ telepathy – he only liked it when they fucked. It hurt as hell, but maybe he could follow Erik’s way of thinking and just pretend that it doesn’t.

Erik claimed to love him, and what Charles saw in his head indicated that he does, but it looked like he hated himself more than he loved Charles. He didn’t want to think about that hate, which would be beyond his comprehension if he didn’t feel it himself. It made him feel guilty for not doing anything about it, just pointlessly starring at the ceiling – but why does it always have to be him? Why does he have to be the bigger person every goddamn time? Erik was struggling, it was obvious, but couldn’t Charles just let go? He tried. He tried, and Erik made it obvious that he doesn’t want any help.

If Erik didn’t want it, if Erik didn’t want him – he could try to pretend that he was fine.

He was not Erik, though. He was not as good at pretending, and he didn’t wish to pretend. During sleepless nights like this, he knew what he wanted.

He only longed for Erik.

★★★★★

A shiver ran down Erik’s spine. Cold. He had a t-shirt underneath his turtleneck, a sweatshirt pulled over it and a jacket, and yet he was still freezing. At least it looked like his kids were having fun. They rented ice skates for a couple of dollars and now were skating, with Pietro doing it a little bit to fast. Erik told him not to do it, as it has already proven itself to be a very bad idea. For now, nothing happened, so Erik decided not to interfere.

He didn’t mind just sitting there and watching them. The only minus was that the rink was open, so he was exposed to wind and the frigid temperature in all their glory.

Erik took his phone out of the pocket to check the hour, immediately feeling the cold on his skin. Only twenty minutes were left out of the hour he paid for. Then they will probably go to get hot chocolate to warm up. For the kids, not for Erik. He felt sucking in his stomach, but he couldn’t swallow anything other than coffee to stay awake and an occasional plain toast – or just straight up bread – to survive. Eating became just as hard as sleeping during the last week. Erik preferred pretending that he doesn’t know the cause.

He bit his chapped lip, hiding the phone – and most importantly, his hand – back in the jacket’s pocket. He closed his dry, hurting eyes. He still hasn’t made an ophthalmologist appointment. It wasn’t worth it. He can survive with a bit of pain in his eyes. And head. And back.

The world around him was a bit muffled – he told himself that it was just an illusion, not the sleep deprivation. He could hear chatter, people on the rink and next to it. At some point a rhythmic, slow knocking-like noise joined. He knew that sound, his brain just couldn’t be bothered to identify it. Soon it stopped, completely disappearing; Erik had a strange feeling that it’s source was closer to him than he’d like.

“Erik”

His eyes snapped open. No. He slowly lifted his head, terrified of what he’s about to see.

Charles was standing in front of him, his dark hair falling onto his forehead, his skin pale, eye bags under his eyes matching Erik’s ones. Erik’s first thought was that he looks tired; second, that his coat must keep him so much warmer than Erik was; third, that his vision should not be so blurry.

“I think we need to talk”

Chapter Text

Erik’s first instinct was to panic.

He rapidly stood up from the bench, which was definitely not the best idea. First of all, what could this move give him? He couldn’t just run away – his children were here and also it would be probably the most humiliating and pathetic thing he could possibly do. Second of all, the moment he did it, dark dots started dancing in front of his eyes. It happened when he stood up, especially when he did it so quickly. He didn’t have time to worry about it, he had more pressing matters. Like getting the fuck away from here without really doing it.

Actually, just avoiding the conversation would be enough. If he did something – anything, really – that would repel Charles and make him abandon the matter entirely, he would be safe. But Charles looked so tired, Erik felt the urge to tuck him into bed (his own, preferably) and only leave when he ensures that Charles will be alright. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t think like that. Stop. Just stop. Shield your mind. He hoped Charles couldn’t see what was going on in his head at the moment.

“I don’t think so” he said dryly. He tried his best to keep his voice, face and mind blank, but it seemed impossible.

“Then you are wrong” Charles said in his usual, sure of himself manner. Erik scoffed, though there was something in his tone that made Erik shudder – he pretended that it was just the cold.

“We don’t have anything to talk about” Erik said, begging his voice not to break. He couldn’t show that he still cares. He couldn’t care. He should just stop. Fall out of love. He needed to forget entirely. What he wants doesn’t matter. It doesn’t. Matter. “I suggest you take my advice and forget about... everything that happened”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Erik” Charles said, staring at him dead-eyed. His expression promised Erik that he will not back off until he gets what he wants. A true nightmare scenario.

Don’t be ridiculous, Erik – but Charles was always the one acting ridiculous. He was the one reaching out after Erik hurt him and made it clear that it’s over. He was the one who started it, who pretended to care about Erik, who did all the different things that didn’t make any sense.

Charles just sat on the bench, leaving Erik standing next to it and looking like an idiot. Resigned, he joined him.

Fuck. He needed a cigarette. He didn’t think he ever needed one so badly in his life.

His hand automatically reached into the pocket with a pack and a lighter, taking both of those things out. Then, he glanced at Charles.

“Mind if I smoke?”

Charles shook his head, even though his expression said something different. Erik lighted the cigarette anyway, drawing on it as quickly as he could. It was the last one. Damn it. They ran out too fast. Erik forgot how much money you lose on being a heavy smoker. Well, it was his best (only) stress reliever, so he would call it self-care. Spending money on self-care was allowed.

“Since when do you smoke?” Charles asked, scrunching his nose when a white cloud escaped Erik’s mouth.

“Since I was twenty. I just had a fifteen years long break”

“I think I preferred it while you were on that break”

“Just tell me if it bothers you”

“It’s the potential consequences that bother me” he muttered, looking at the hand in which Erik was holding a cigarette as if it was a particularly disgusting weapon of mass destruction. “And, well, I can’t say the smell is the most pleasant thing I’ve ever felt”

Erik debated it for a moment in his head, but eventually he drew on the cigarette for the last time and threw it on the ground to stomp on it. After that, he picked the stump up. Numerous people had made fun of him for it in his life, but he didn’t like leaving them everywhere he went. There should be a bin somewhere nearby.

Maybe he shouldn’t have done it. First of all, he wasted about half a cigarette; second, he still felt the need for one.

“For how long are you planning on sitting here? I can tell you’re cold”

Erik opened his mouth to say that this is not true (and he’d lie if he did) or that it’s none of Charles’ business, but the man continued, seemingly unbothered.

“You don’t have to repeat yourself, I know I’m unwelcome in your mind. Your mental walls are barely holding together, it’s hard not to feel it. Happens when you’re sleep deprived”

Charles’ tone was perfectly neutral, but he was not looking at Erik. He remembered how hurt he looked the last time they talked, when he panicked and ill-considerately yelled something he didn’t even believe in.

“You’re not unwelcome there” he said before he could stop himself – but did he even want to do it? He had to explain that he doesn’t resent Charles for his mutation. That’s the least he could do.

“Don’t bother, darling” Charles said, the term of endearment slipping automatically. Fuck. “I’m used to it”

“But I really don’t mind you there. I said it because I was mad that you found out this way”

More like terrified. Erik was so, so scared of Charles’ reaction, of his rejection, of the abandonment he brought upon himself.

Erik knew it was his own fault. If he could just get his shit together, stop being in love with Charles, stop thinking such depressing thoughts, start appreciating what he has instead of resenting his life, if he could just fix himself – if he did it, there would be nothing he would want to hide from Charles. This whole thing wouldn’t have happened if Erik didn’t break so easily.

“You know it wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t control what I saw once I entered your mind”

Erik just nodded silently, though Charles was still stubbornly looking ahead instead of at him. Erik reckoned that it was not particularly strange of him – he often didn’t want to look at himself too.

“So?” Charles asked. Erik needed a moment before he understood what he meant. He was slow in the head today, but honestly, when wasn’t he? He glanced at his phone.

“Ten minutes”

“Not enough to properly talk it through, then” Charles remarked offhandedly. Erik didn’t even have the strength to protest. Charles was so close to him, just a few inches away. Just a small move and Erik could touch him, feel his warmth. He yearned for it so badly he felt as his heart longed to tear his chest apart and escape, just to be closer to Charles. He remembered how it felt to fall asleep in his arms – something he missed so dearly, something he’d wanted to do since he first found himself laying in the silk sheets in Charles’ apartment. God, how tired Erik was. If only he could, he’d crawl under Charles’ awful beige coat and pass out right there. He would be so warm and safe there, he was sure of it.

He gritted his teeth, trying to strengthen his mental shields as best as he could. Charles couldn’t see his stupid fantasies.

That’s all they were. For Erik his yearning, his desperate need to be loved, the perspective of someone truly caring for him – those all were purely unrealistic fantasies. Charles was a fantasy he got to live for a short time, and now it was over. His reality couldn’t be compared to it. It was much harsher, much more brutal, but real.

There is nothing we need to talk through, he thought, but how could he say it? Another lie. It was just another lie.

That’s why he stayed silent – for so long Charles’ head turned to him, his blue gaze seemingly piercing Erik’s mind, body, his heart and soul. Oh, how Erik hated it, how he adored it.

“There’s a cafe nearby here. We’ll be able to talk in peace”

Before Erik managed to protest – say that he can’t leave his kids and come up with a better, long-term excuse – Charles continued to crush his hopes of avoiding this.

“I’m sure your kids would like something hot to drink after so much time out there. How about we wait for them and go?”

Erik fought the urge to sigh and hide his face in his hands. The moment he saw Charles here, he was lost. It was like he had no control of the situation whatsoever.

He supposed that it was nothing unusual in their relationship. The control Charles had over him remained the same, even if the telepath wasn’t even touching his mind.

Charles will probably try to talk Erik through their break up of sorts and leave. Erik didn’t want this. He didn’t want someone who never loved him to be around him, to pretend that he cares.

He stood up, so now he was towering over Charles. He needed to make his intentions clear.

Before he could even open his mouth the world went black, and Erik’s head spun so intensively he thought he might throw up.

“Oh lord, Erik” he heard. There was a hand on his arm, and he could swear that he can feel it’s warmth through all the layers he was wearing.

His vision slowly came back, so now he was able to see Charles’ concerned expression. God, can this get any more humiliating?

“Are you okay?” Charles asked, his voice higher than a moment ago.

“Yes” Erik sternly mumbled, realizing that he was leaning on Charles and shifting his weight back to his own feet.

“Are you sure? You look pale. Have you eaten anything today?”

“Yes” he repeated, his voice harsher, looking straight at Charles’ face. White as chalk. Hypocrite.

Erik identified the weird feeling in his chest as fear, though it wasn’t exactly it. He could feel it radiating through his entire body, making his hands tremble and his legs weak.

The question took him off guard. Charles sounded... worried. Erik was not someone people worried about, he was usually the one worrying. It was so strange to hear this in Charles’ voice. It was not right, but oh god, did Erik wish to hear it again.

“I’m fine, Charles. Don’t push it”

“What exactly did you eat?” Charles asked, deciding to do exactly what Erik told him not to.

“Breakfast and lunch” he said vaguely. It was only a lie in like 25% – he did eat lunch (one toast) and he had coffee for breakfast, so he did have something.

Charles sighed quietly, disapproval clear in his furrowed eyebrows and lips pressed together into a tight line.

“It’s afternoon, Erik” he said. “You should eat something. We are going there”

Erik felt his insides twist and turn. It actually can get so, so much more humiliating.

He should have known this might happen. Erik slowly went from eating five meals a day to three, then to two, and now it was a true lottery. Does he eat something or not? Fuck around and find out. Of course it was not healthy, and of course he always found more important things to worry about. Charles should too. He should just find himself something more important to think about than Erik. God, it’s not like that’s hard.

“Whatever you say” he muttered, avoiding looking in Charles’ eyes as best as he could.

★★★★★

God, how Erik regretted it.

He was sitting at the table in front of Charles, his eyes fixed on the tabletop to not look at him. Erik’s kids were sitting at a separate table; he told them that he and Charles need to discuss something important.

He’d rather be anywhere else. He so desperately didn’t want to go through this conversation. He so desperately didn’t want to hear the truth. He’d rather live the illusion that Charles loved him for the short time they were dating than learn what it really was about.

Before he could back off from this – he didn’t know how could he even do it at this point – Charles broke the unnerving silence that fell between them, making Erik unable to breathe for a split second again.

“You’re still wearing it” he observed. Erik needed a moment to understand what he meant; his eyes fixed on Erik’s chest helped with that. He looked down to see the silver necklace that must have slid out from under his sweatshirt.

“I am” he muttered, not wanting nor feeling the need to elaborate. If Charles asked him to, he’d have to lie and say that he just forgot to take it off.

“I thought you deemed it stupid. Wore it only for meetings with me”

“I didn’t lie when I said I liked it”

I didn’t take it off since you gave it to me.

That little piece of metal, that little reminder – it made Erik feel like Charles is still with him. Even when he lost it, he still had something to remember his hopeless love by.

“Oh, well, I suppose that’s nice of you” Charles muttered, looking away. Erik supposed that it was a bit dumb of Charles to expect that he didn’t like it. How could he not? It seemed a little silly, yes, but Charles bought it for Erik specifically, because it made him think of Erik – or so he claimed. It felt too personal to get rid of.

Charles’ elbows were on the table, his hands intertwined, his chin rested on them. Erik looked at those pale fingers – it was safer than looking at his face. He remembered how they felt in his mouth, how they traced his skin, every inch; how they combed through his hair when he was too delirious to properly appreciate it.

Erik felt his hands tremble. They were on his lap, so Charles can’t see it. If Erik reached over the table, just a bit, he could touch Charles’ fingers again. Just brush against them. Just the slightest touch. God, just the tiniest one. Erik took a shaky breath. He didn’t realize how disgustingly sickly he craved the smallest contact.

He intertwined his hands together, just at Charles’ were. He felt like a starving dog chewing on his own paw.

The silence started to get uncomfortable again, and it irritated Erik. Charles was the one who took him there and now he was basically ignoring him.

Neither of them said a word, and Erik was seriously debating just standing up and walking away, when a waitress came to take their orders. God, finally. It was probably just a few minutes since they entered the place, but for him it felt like eternity.

“I’ll have an espresso- ”

“Water” Charles said, cutting him of. Erik opened his mouth to protest, but the blue eyes shot him a look that made him bit his lip and look out the window in a partially mad, partially embarrassed manner. “Just water, and, uh…”

Erik listened to him make an order for both of them, not saying a word himself. Fucking bossy posh slut.

“Don’t act so offended, Erik” Charles said when the waitress walked away. “You probably surpassed the lethal dosage of caffeine a few days ago”

Erik started to wish that he did. A heart attack would be an easy way out of this. Certainly easier than whatever was going on now.

Charles sighed quietly, looking at him again.

“I’m sorry, Erik”

I’m sorry this didn’t work out, you’ll find someone else – Erik thought. That’s what he expected to hear.

“Perhaps I should’ve approached the matter in a more... delicate way. Perhaps I shouldn’t have entered your mind that day, but it has already happened. Now I know. I won’t apologize for trying to talk to you about it, and I will try again, because I can’t leave it like this. I can’t leave you when I know how much you’re suffering”

Charles slowly outstretched his hand, letting the second one fall under the table. The first one lied on the table with palm up, reaching towards Erik.

“Please, Erik, darling. I don’t want us to fight. I just want to help. I love you”

Erik dug his fingernails into his palm, unable to look away from Charles’ hand on the table. Don’t, don’t, don’t. He hated that one of the main symptoms of his anxiety was dizziness. He absolutely couldn’t throw up right now.

He tried to blink away the tears, but it didn’t help. God, he needed to get out. He needed to get out of this place and leave Charles and acquire a rope. He will find a way to hang himself on a fucking door handle if he’ll have to.

“It’s going to be okay, Erik. Really. Just please, please don’t push me away”

It’s going to be okay. The most beautiful lie Erik has ever heard – but Charles was so persistent in claiming that he’s telling the truth.

Erik hesitantly moved his hand – he hated how much it trembled – from his lap to the table, reaching for Charles’. Just a minute, a moment, a split second of touch, just a tiny bit. He thought he might start sobbing out of the sheer, overwhelming want. He was afraid he will fall apart the moment his fingertips brush against Charles’ skin.

They did it, and Erik immediately noticed that Charles’ hand is warmer than his. Unusual; Charles was always the one with cold hands. He squeezed Erik’s, and Erik did the same thing, a bit scared that the uncontrollable strength with which he did it might hurt the man sitting across him.

Charles didn’t look like it did, but his eyes started to get bleary. They were both just sitting there, two grown men, crying over holding hands. God, Erik was not going to sob – he was going to have a full-blown mental breakdown about this.

“Charles, I- ” he stuttered. It only now occurred to him that they were in a public place, and he could barely stop himself from crying.

“It’s alright, love. I can cover us. Nobody will bat an eye” he said, his voice shaky.

That was all Erik needed to let the first tears fall. He tried to frantically wipe them with his hand, embarrassed, but there was too many of them. Soon Erik felt a gentle touch on his cheek. He flinched, and Charles took his hand away, leaving it hovering in the air a few inches from his face.

“Sorry, did I- ”

Erik took his hand and brought it back to his face. So greedy. He already had one of Charles’ hands in his, but he felt the need to also have the other. He leaned forward a bit and pressed Charles’ palm to his wet with tears skin.

“No, I’m sorry” he said, his voice breaking. “I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry I said those things about you, your telepathy...”

“It’s alright, darling” Charles said, his thumb caressing Erik’s face, as if he tried to wipe his tears.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of this”

“I know. You don't have to be”

Erik almost jumped out of his skin when a waitress set plates in front of them and wordlessly walked away.

“Did you...?” he asked, looking at Charles.

“Yeah. I made her think we’ve talked. I figured we’re both not really up for a social interaction right now”

Erik nodded slightly.

“Thank you”

Charles just smiled weakly, slowly taking his hand away and putting it on top of Erik’s, the one still holding his and laying on the table.

“Erik” he began, looking at their hands. “I want to be with you, I want that more than anything else. But you have to be honest with me for that to happen. We can go through this together. You’ve suffered in silence for so long, my love. You don’t have to. Don’t hide from me”

“I don’t know if I can” Erik muttered. He didn’t know how to.

“We can figure it out” Charles said. He lifted Erik’s hand and kissed his knuckles, the lips barely brushing against his skin. Erik knew that he was probably blushing furiously, not used to this kind of gestures. “Now please eat something so I can be sure that you won’t pass out here”

Only now Erik looked down from Charles’ face to the plates and saw what he had ordered.

“Waffles?” he asked, looking back at Charles.

“It’s a cafe, Erik. It was either that or some cake so sweet you wouldn’t stomach it”

Erik let out a half-hearted chuckle, but he knew that his blush probably deepened. Maybe it was just a coincidence – though logically it was unlikely; Charles loved things so sugary they would make Erik vomit if he tried them – but it made Erik feel like Charles remembers that he doesn’t particularly like sweets, even if he mentioned it only once while they were playfully arguing about something. God, Charles made him feel seen in a way no one else had for years. Charles made him think that someone out there really cares about him. It was stupid. Erik should not be this moved that Charles remembered something like that about him.

At first Erik thought that he won’t even stomach the waffles, but Charles’ eyes were still fixed on him as he was sipping on his tea (with an absurd amount of things like clove and cinnamon in it). It would be embarrassing to not eat anything, even if his stomach felt too tight. He didn’t know if it was the stress of the last days, the fact that he hasn’t eaten much lately or that Charles is finally so close.

Regardless of what it was, he managed to eat them – and Charles has managed to pull him into a conversation in a definitely lighter tones. Erik probably needed it after the days of self-destruction and self-loathing. He also probably needed a meal better than waffles and sleep, but those were things he could push down and ignore as he usually did. Additionally, the man sitting across him provided a great distraction. Especially because the moment they finished eating (and Erik drank that goddamn water, really, Charles was so persistent) they argued about splitting the bill. Until Charles asked the waitress and it turned out that they can’t do it for some reason (Erik had his suspicions that it was Charles who made her say this, but he didn’t voice his doubts). After a while of basically shoving bills into his hand, because Erik had to give him that money back, Charles finally admitted defeat – to Erik’s relief.

“You’re so stubborn, darling” Charles muttered.

“I just don’t like being a charity case”

“God, Erik” Charles sighed. “It’s nothing like that. I like showing you that I care this way. Besides, I’ve inherited so much the next twenty generations will be spending it. It’s not charity, it’s me liking you”

“Well, I don’t want you doing it this way”

“Do you not want it or are you too stubborn to accept it?”

“Fuck off” Erik muttered. “You have telepathy. That’s cheating”

Charles let out a half-hearted chuckle.

“I never really used it that way” he said, and – to Erik’s discontent – it was the truth. He didn’t understand Charles’ morality concerning his telepathy – sometimes he seemed to be afraid to use it, sometimes he did it like it was nothing – but he had to admit that in his case it was rather the first option.

“I know” he sighed. Charles smiled slightly, as if the fact that Erik believes him mattered to him.

“That’s good” he said. “But we don’t have to talk about it now, I think we’ve had enough emotions for the day”

As much as Erik didn’t want to admit to it – and as much as patronized it made him feel – he had to admit that Charles was right.

“We probably should get going” he muttered offhandedly. Erik felt his stomach twist. They get going, and then what? Will Charles text him again like he did before or will he leave Erik without a word? Maybe this whole thing was just a twisted vengeance on Erik? Charles showed up to give him hope and then he will crush it. Erik wished that would surprise him, but he was already getting ready for it. He always had to be ready for every possibility. Every bad one. They were simply more probable.

“Yeah” he muttered, but inside he started panicking. Charles will leave and Erik will relive the entire process of grieving this relationship. Fuck, he didn’t even finish doing it in the first place. He can’t go through this again. “I could- uh, I could walk you, a bit?” Erik proposed. “It’s... the same direction” he said, stumbling over words. Charles smiled, his eyes suddenly brighter.

“Oh, yes, that would be great” he said immediately, a bit too enthusiastic.

“Okay. I’ll just- tell my kids, and we can go”

Charles nodded, so Erik took his jacket from the seat’s back and quickly made his way over to the table Wanda, Pietro and Nina were sitting at.

“Did you make up?” was the first question he got asked. He didn’t even try to deny the fact that they fell out in the first place. He supposed it was obvious from the way he acted – though he felt a pang of shame that he didn’t manage to hide it.

“Well, you could say so” he answered shortly. He pretended that he didn’t see the knowing glances his kids exchanged. They seemed to know more than they should, but Erik was too tired to interrogate them right now. And probably in the future.

“We should get going” he said. “And Charles probably will walk with us a bit”

“Uh-um” Wanda muttered, coming back to her phone. Erik felt kind of relieved that this was all he got as a reaction.

It was still frigid outside, and it took all Erik’s willpower to stop his body from shivering and his teeth from chattering. He had no idea how his kids and Charles seemed to be perfectly comfortable.

At some point Erik felt Charles’ hand brush against his – though he had to double check by eyeing it, because it was already getting benumbed by the cold. He ignored it, brushing it off as an accident. Then it happened again. And again. He looked down, and then at Charles’ smiling face. Their hands brushed one more time, and now Erik was sure that Charles was doing it intentionally.

He only now realized that their first time hand-holding was in the cafe. He glanced at his children, walking in front of them, chatting with each other (well, Pietro and Nina, at least). They didn’t pay attention to them in the slightest. Was Charles trying to initiate what he thought about or was he just playing with him? God, Erik felt so greedy for wanting to hold Charles’ hand.

Finally he took it and felt as Charles’ fingers intertwine with his. Charles grinned and squeezed his hand, and Erik couldn’t help but did the same thing. Was he now going to blush and feel butterflies in his stomach because they were holding hands? Yes. Awfully embarrassing, but it brought him so much joy. And warmth. Charles’ palm was still warmer than his.

Erik couldn’t enjoy that for long, though. They will have to part ways soon and Charles will leave. Charles will leave. Charles will leave. Charles will-

Erik suddenly remembered that telepathy is a thing, and his mind wasn’t especially well shielded. Perhaps because Charles’ hand squeezed his a bit harder.

“That’s where I should turn” he muttered, looking at the road. He didn’t let go of Erik’s hand, nor did he say goodbye.

“Oh” Erik mumbled, but didn’t let go too.

“Don’t make us witness a dramatic goodbye” Wanda muttered, and Erik almost jumped out of his skin. His daughter had an uncanny ability to look like she’s not listening while actually doing it very carefully.

“It’s not like we’re almost home anyway” Pietro replied, turning around and now walking backwards. Erik saw the way Wanda’s right hand let go of her phone and was now free at her side. He knew that now if Pietro falls (it wouldn’t be the first time it happened like this) it would only take a move of her finger to stop him. Barely a few centimeters from the ground, so he gets properly scared, but she was always alerted. “You two can go... wherever. I don’t think I wanna know what and where you’re gonna do, actually”

“And I don’t think that’s the best idea” Erik muttered. If something could go wrong, it usually did, so even if he didn’t want Charles to leave, he also wasn’t planning on leaving his kids.

“Really, dad, we can go alone” Pietro said, slightly elbowing Wanda, hoping she’ll understand why he’s proposing that.

“I really don’t think that’s- ”

“It’s just a few blocks away, and we literally have powers” Pietro emphasized, cutting Erik off.

“And I’ve got a knife” Nina said, pulling a clasp knife out of her pocket.

“And she’s got a knife” Pietro repeated, gesturing at her. “We’ll be perfectly safe”

“I’m pretty sure this is Wanda’s” Erik said, his tone skeptical.

“Is that any better?” Charles mumbled, a bit shocked.

“Like he said, I have powers. Pretty useful ones. Nina can have the knife”

“You let them carry knives?” Charles asked, staring at Erik wide-eyed.

“For self-defense. It’s technically legal”

“I’m starting to question your parenting methods”

“Oh, no, they’re great. Knife-fighting is our favorite bonding activity” Pietro said, fighting a smile. Charles looked at him with uncertainty.

I don’t know if he’s joking. I would really like to know if he’s joking, Erik.

Erik barely stopped a laugh from escaping his mouth.

Don’t worry, he is joking. No one knife-fights in my home. At least not when I’m around.

“Okay” he said out loud, looking at his kids. He fished the keys out of his pocket and quickly levitated them over to Wanda. “Just be safe”

“Sure”

“And go straight home. No other stops”

“How dare you expect me to do something straight” Pietro muttered, making his sisters chuckle.

Erik didn’t comment on that, just as he didn’t do it when Pietro made other jokes in that type. If his son decided to come out to him one day, it was fine; if he didn’t, Erik would also accept that. He didn’t think any of his kids should “come out” to him – he would always support them, whether they bring someone of the same gender home or start using different pronouns, without the official, stressful “dad, I need to tell you something”. He hoped they knew it. He always tried to make them feel safe in their home.

“I’m serious. Call me when you get there”

“Alright” Wanda muttered. “We’ll try surviving”

Erik fought the urge to sigh – and quickly lost that fight. To be honest, he started regretting letting them go. Sure, it was close, but the most accidents happen close to home, and Wanda often focused on her phone instead of her surroundings, and Pietro tended to get lost in his own world and not pay attention, and-

“Go with them if you’re worried” Charles said, squeezing his hand. Erik glanced at him and then at his children, already walking away.

“I don’t think there’s a point. Besides, it really is close. Not more than two hundred meters”

“You’ve lived here for over a decade and you still use meters?”

“This is what you’ve noticed?” Erik asked, making sure to think Americans very loudly, in a I’m making fun of you right now tone. “They’re easier. For your information, it’s about six and a half hundred feet”

Charles chuckled and squeezed Erik’s hand, slightly tugging at it to pull him in the right direction. He slightly swayed their intertwined hands, and Erik just let him. It was kind of nice, just walking there in silence. Charles had a light smile on his face, so he probably thought so too. Probably. Erik hoped he did.

He hated the way his mind kept doubting everything. It didn’t even make any sense. Of course Charles only pretending to like him was a possibility, but logically it was just purposeless. If it was the other way around, Erik would have a reason to pretend – Charles was, after all, filthy rich. Erik was not. He was nobody. There was no benefits to dating him. His fear was both absurd and overwhelming. And unstoppable. It seemed to get stronger with every step closer to Charles’ home.

“I can feel you’re anxious~” Charles almost hummed, their hands swaying.

“Because you’re a cheater” Erik muttered humorlessly.

“That’s unnecessary, love” Charles said. “We really need to work on that”

“We don’t need to work on anything”

“Well, you should. I just want to help”

Erik bit the inside of his cheek and looked down at his shoes. They were dirtier than they should be. Looked dingily next to Charles’.

“Why would you?”

“I just want to. Because I love you”

“Sappy”

“But true” he said, slightly elbowing Erik, who just rolled his eyes and pretended that it didn’t make his stomach flip.

Why did he care so much about such sappy, meaningless words? He was the most pathetic guy he knew, basically licking the scraps of Charles’ attention from the floor. Disgusting.

Erik could already see the building Charles lived in. Soon they’ll have to part ways and Erik will be able to panic over it without worrying that Charles will sense his unreasonable feelings.

“Don’t think you’ll avoid this conversation, darling”

“I’m hoping for that”

Charles let out a short sigh, a weary smile on his face. He was looking at Erik with something concern-like.

“Oh, Erik” he muttered. “You need to accept help sometimes. Talk about it to someone”

“But not today”

“Not today, if you don’t want it” Charles agreed. “But anytime you feel the need to, I’m here. Whether you want to meet, talk or... anything”

Charles stopped talking for a moment to open the door to the building. Erik kind of expected him to say goodbye and go, but his hand got pulled by Charles’ inside, and he just followed it.

“I trust you, Erik. I hope you can trust me too”

Erik made a mistake of looking in Charles’ eyes and for a moment he was unable to speak – until Charles asked if cat got his tongue and made him chuckle nervously. God, he was so desperate, so needy. He kept longing for Charles’ love. He promised himself he would stop, but he couldn’t. He just followed Charles around like a dog in hope to get some attention for it.

Erik really needed to schedule his self-loathing for later.

The moment Charles cracked the door to his apartment open, his cat immediately was out.

“Nope, nope, nope” Charles muttered, attempting to catch her. She did a circle around Erik’s legs and meowed, looking up. They both chuckled, and Erik took Nettie into his hands. He couldn’t help but combed his fingers through her fur, hearing her purr.

“She likes you more than me” Charles said while Erik handed him the cat. He felt an urge to apologize for it.

“Oh, she definitely doesn’t. You feed her more often”

Charles laughed shortly and put Nettie on the floor, then closing the door so she doesn’t escape his apartment again.

He didn’t want Erik to leave. He’s missed him for what felt like a lifetime. How was he supposed to just let go?

“Do you- ” Charles began, but stuttered. “Could you stay over for the night, maybe?” he asked, nervously eyeing Erik.

“You really are quick to get down to business, are you” Erik muttered. Was it disappointing? A bit, yes; but Erik expected that.

“I don’t mean to fuck you, you dirty-minded bastard” Charles protested immediately. “I just want to- have you here. It’s harder to fall asleep without you”

Erik could swear that he heard sincere longing in his voice. How badly he hoped he didn’t imagine it.

Sleep never came easily to him. Without Charles near, it seemed almost impossible.

“Sorry, I can’t” he said, feeling his heart’s protest. “I have the night shift”

“And you’re going to go to it running on half an hour of sleep and two waffles?”

“It was more than half an hour” exactly four times more. “And I’ll get some sleep before”

“Will you, though?”

“Shall I send you a recording as a proof?”

“You don’t have to, I’ll install cameras in your home while you’re out”

Erik chuckled quietly, looking down. He could hear Charles do the same.

“Okay” the man said. Erik looked at him again, meeting his eyes. “Not today. But, tomorrow...?” he suggested, smiling hopefully.

“Yeah. That sounds great” he said without even thinking about it. Charles’ smile grew, and Erik returned it. God, he was such a fool.

“See you tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah. Bye” Charles said, not moving an inch.

“Bye” Erik responded, standing still.

Suddenly Charles’ hands were wrapped around his neck, his lips pressed to Erik’s.

“I love you” he said, drawing back and smiling. “See you tomorrow, love”

“See you” Erik muttered, grinning like an idiot. Charles closed the door behind himself and Erik brushed his hand through his hair, sighing quietly. Fool in love.

Only when he returned home he realized that except for his phone he also had a crumpled banknote in his pocket. One that wasn’t there before. The very same he was convinced Charles took. He just sighed, resigned. How on earth did he managed to put it there? Maybe Erik really was more sleep deprived than he had thought.

Sly bastard, and a fool in love.