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Charles knows he’s the only person on the planet who doesn’t mind that his PhD is gathering dust somewhere. Yes, being a high school biology teacher is much harder than being a professor, but it’s much more rewarding, in its own spacial way. He can decorate his classroom, he has full access to the school’s lab, although he shares it with two other teachers. And, it might sound cheesy, but he does enjoy educating the younger generation, setting them up for adulthood.
Although, teaching in a public school has its unfair share of difficulties.
The students had just finished retrieving their books and notebooks, today’s a preparation day for Thursday’s lab and Charles really needed to go through a lot to prepare them. But, just as he opened his mouth, the door snapped open without a knock.
Charles holds back a wince as Erik strides in, ignoring the students and aiming his full attention at Charles.
“You do know the meeting’s time changed, right? It’s on the next period instead of the end of class, something about Hank not being able to stay long,” he asks, watching Charles’s slow nod.
“No, I wasn’t informed, thank you”— Charles gets interrupted by a small cheer. He’s about to ignore it, but Erik turns to the students.
“I know you’re sad to be deprived of my lesson, Bobby. If you want to, I can ask Mr. Hewlett to let me teach you PE today, so whenever you answer something wrong, you’ll do pushups and whenever you’re disturbing the class, you’ll be running the mile,” Erik grins at the poor children, a smile full of teeth. By the time he’s done talking, not even the sound of their breathing can be heard.
“Alright, you terrorised them. Can I start my class now?” Charles keeps his smile polite. Erik snaps back at him, but that smile doesn’t leave his lips.
“Of course, of course, go on, teach them about your little corner of physics, I’ll be on my way,” Erik lifts both hands as he speaks, taking a step back. Charles has to fight back a groan.
“Erik, one more word, and I’ll make you think you’re a duck,” Charles lifts two fingers near his temples to secure the threat. He can’t conceal a smile as Erik keeps his hands up as if someone aims at him with a gun and steps out. With a deep breath and a smile, he starts talking about methylene blue.
«Erik, a word with you for a moment, please,» Charles’s voice echoes in Erik’s head, the usually cheery sensation absent. Erik scans the classroom, the children are focused on the exercise in front of them. Silently, he slips out of the classroom, nearly falling on Charles.
“Did you mess with my microscopes?” Charles asks, without his usual pleasantries. Erik blinks rapidly, a deep frown forming in his face.
“Why would I mess with your microscopes? We’re going through Bernoulli’s principles, and I’m using the tables the furthest away from anything electronic, so nothing will get water damage,” Erik explains, thinking loudly about the last few experiments in the lab, the placement of the water bowls and containers. He watches Charles’s shoulders lower themselves, but his face remains tense.
“It’s a very delicate equipment, Erik, I need to calibrate it again,” the anger has bled away to almost a whine. Erik doesn’t want to think about how it makes his heart shatter just slightly.
“I can use the lunch break to help you calibrate, if you wish,” he offers without a second thought, but any seed of regret is banished when the tension finally disappears.
“Oh, thank you so much, Erik! Although, we do have that gap after the lunch break, we could use that instead,” he suggests. Erik nods with a slight smile in his lips.
“Don’t mention it. I— I have to go back. See you after break, Charles,” he hates he has to turn around, wave and walk back in the classroom, a soft farewell imprinting itself in Erik’s consciousness. If he spends the rest of the lesson oddly cheery, the students don’t mention it.
Charles has got familiar to his colleagues’ minds, to Logan’s sharp defence, Hank’s clutter, Ororo’s calm. He’s used to Erik’s natural airtight defence, only allowing as many thoughts and emotions as his body language displays. It’s one of the most powerful Charles has come across, a by–product of Erik’s mutation, according to him. Charles has come to appreciate Erik’s defence, the fact that he can exist in the same room with him right after class — when his telepathy is at its most raw — without being overwhelmed.
So, he notices the change today, even though everyone else seems oblivious to it. He notices the fog of guilt and gloom shielding his mind from everyone else, the withdrawal that someone can easily brush off as his usual closed–off behaviour. The whole day, with students and colleagues around, the change was discreet, barely noticeable. Now, that the teachers’ office is empty apart from the two of them, each focused to their planning and grading, Charles can really see the dark mood, the sunken red–rimmed eyes, the shadow of a stubble. He was face deep in his papers, occasionally letting the metal pen write on its own to take a sip of tea or run a hand through silver hair.
Charles sighs, rubs his eyes, sitting back to straighten his back until the urge to storm in the school district’s board and lobotomize everyone has faded. His attention drifts to Erik, to the long fingers brushing something hanging from the thin golden chain always around his neck. For a second, a thought escaped Erik’s defences, gliding through Charles’s mind; how could you forget her birthday?
He wants to speak, but words turn into ash in his mouth. He’s not supposed to know, he’s not supposed to have overheard. But then again, he can’t just sit by without doing anything.
“Ah, damn,” he mumbles a little too loudly, letting his pen hit the desk with a clatter. Erik breaks free from his trance, frowning at Charles. Good, it worked.
“I swear, if I keep going, I will melt someone’s brain…” he sighs, rubbing his face.
“You could get some fresh air,” Erik suggests as he looks back down at his papers. Damn, so close yet so far away. Charles sticks to his Oscar–worthy performance, moving towards the exit.
“That’s a great idea! Could you care to join me and mock biology?” he asks, trying to contact the hopeful tone in his voice.
“I’m not even halfway through these, I’ll join you later,” Erik hums, the automatic movement of the pen further strengthening his point. Charles knows a lost fight when he sees it, he just nods and goes to the front gate, watching the cars pass by.
He turns around when he hears the front gate creak, watching as Erik slips outside and leans against the chipped paint of the wall.
“I wouldn’t be that close to the walls if I were you. The old paint could have lead,” Charles points out.
“The one question I had in that test was to name Newton’s laws. I just read a paper saying ‘this is physics class, not law’. Lead poisoning would be more pleasant,” Erik raises an eyebrow, the anguish palpable in his voice. Charles can’t hold himself, he knocks his head back and laughs until he can’t breathe.
“Perhaps you should finish those at your home, with a bottle of wine,” Charles wipes off his tears as he speaks, slowly calming down.
“Or a bottle of vodka,” Erik sighs, failing to force down a small smile. Mission accomplished, then. “And to think they’re answering just fine when I ask them during class,” he shakes his head.
“It’s the amnesia that strikes them when they see an exam sheet, my friend,” Charles muses, watching Erik’s slow nod. They don’t talk until they go back inside, but the dark fog doesn’t return in Erik’s mind.
Erik curses as he walks across the car park to his car, his umbrella failing to protect him from the wind and rain. He passes by the empty handicap parking spot, Charles is probably already on his way home, inside his dry car.
He doesn’t even bother with his keys, he just forces the door to open, gets inside and drives off. Every five seconds, he thanks his luck for his mutation, there’s no way he’d be able to know where other cars are without it. The windscreen wipers can only do so much in the heavy rain, Erik’s visibility is absolutely shot in this weather.
His feet hit the brakes when he feels a familiar wheelchair on the pavement. He doesn’t risk lowering down the window, instead he opens wide his mind and yells Charles’s name.
«Erik?!» he gets a response, the wheelchair stopping near the parked car. «What are you doing?”»
«What are you doing in the rain? Trying to catch your death?» Erik asks back.
«My car’s in the shop, I’m trying to go to my sister’s,» he responds. Erik is about to ask why not call a cab before he remembers the cab drivers are on strike today.
«I could drive you to your house» Erik offers, without a second thought. How far could Charles’s house be, after all?
«You want to drive to North Salem in this weather?!» Charles asks, as if questioning Erik’s sanity. A corner of Erik’s mind starts questioning too when he thinks it’s not that dreadful.
«We’ll be dry,» he counters, grateful that he feels Charles finally agreeing. He moves the car, so the passenger’s door is as close to Charles as possible, unlocking it the moment the car stops moving. Charles transfers himself in lightning speed, moaning when he sits somewhere dry at last.
“Let me put the wheelchair in the truck,” Erik gets out in the rain. It’s just a wheelchair, he can control metal, how bad could it be?
He regrets his choices when he goes past five minutes in the rain and only manages to remove the seating.
«Just pull at that lever on your right, it won’t break,» Charles instructs.
«I AM PULLING ON THE FUCKING LEVER, IT’S NOT— oh, finally!» Erik laughs in pure glee when the wheelchair finally folds and fits in Erik’s truck. Once everything is secure, he gets back in the driver’s seat, leaning against his seat and signing in relief.
“You’d be the worst caretaker,” Charles points out, earning a sideways glance from Erik. Erik shrugs before goes back to the road.
“I doubt you’d have enough visibility to show me where we’re going, can you put on a GPS?” he asks, feeling Charles move his to his hands.
“It says an hour and a half, it’ll be more with the rain— oh dear god, you have heated seats? Please marry me,” Charles melts against his seat, reminding Erik of a lizard in a warm rock.
“If I know I could earn your undying love so easily, I’d drive you home sooner. How did you even come to school today if your car was being fixed?” Erik asks, not taking his eyes off the road, mostly a gesture he’s found doesn’t terrify people when they realise how little he relies on his eyes when driving.
“My sister drove me, but she wasn’t answering her phone now that I needed her,” Charles sighs, tutting to make his disapproval abundantly clear. “Do you mind music?” he asks.
“Go ahead,” Erik gestures at the radio, the glove compartment opening by itself to display the collection of burnt CD's inside. He hears Charles’s chuckles, moments before a soft guitar starts filling the car. Erik’s shoulders tense immediately, and he presses eject before the first verse drops.
“So sorry, can you pick another CD?” Erik wants to ignore the tremble in his voice. Focus on the road, he tells himself. Charles nods and picks a musical soundtrack. Erik forces himself to breathe, to release the tension.
“Sorry, I just saw it’s the Beatles and…” Charles trails off, making Erik’s heart break further.
“No, no, don’t apologise, it’s not your fault. It’s… it’s just personal, you couldn’t have known,” Erik tries to keep his voice calm and level. He has to focus on the road. Thankfully, Charles doesn’t continue the conversation.
Erik smiles when he notices the music getting louder, and Charles’s soft baritone humming along with it. He starts tapping his fingers against the steering wheel along with the music. By the third song, they’re both singing their lungs out, grinning like idiots.
“Shouldn’t you keep your attention on the road?” Charles asks at some point, still with a smile in those slightly rosy lips.
“I use my powers for that, they’re better than trying to see through the rain at the moment,” Erik still puts on the show, his eyes on the windscreen, as if he can see.
“Thank god you picked me up, then,” Charles responds with a chuckle. “You can drive in the rain, you have a tolerable taste in music, and heated seats. It’s like I won the lottery,”
“Tolerable? You were yelling the lyrics of ‘Love is Blind’ like your life depended on it,” Erik points out, earning a snort from Charles.
“Fair point, but I didn’t have you for a musical person,” he muses.
“You should not take your information from students, I am sure they think I’m listening to the sound of children crying to fall asleep at night,” Erik responds absent–mindedly.
“Then you should provide me the correct information, preferably over a cup of coffee or tea someday,” Charles’s voice is smooth like butter, but Erik still feels like he was hit by a lightning. Charles must have spotted that, mumbles an apology and attempts to look out of the window.
“The rain’s calming down a bit,” he mumbles.
“It’s going to turn into an electrical storm, curb your enthusiasm,” Erik argues.
“I don’t remember the weather forecast mentioning that,” Charles argues back.
“Charles, I can feel it,”
“Seriously, Erik, even if it did, it would be kilometres above us. You can’t possibly feel it,”
“My bag is on the armrest, see my driving licence,” Erik gestures at Charles before he shifts down a gear as they get stuck in traffic. Charles pulls the messenger bag in his lap, going through the papers before he grabs the wallet and opens it.
“It says blue eyes, but they’re greenish, aren’t they?” Charles hums.
“Charles,”
“Also, you look like a murderer in that photo. Wait, you have an M class? I didn’t know you can drive a bike…” Charles muses.
“I usually go to school with my bike, you didn’t notice? It’s just easier for others to see me with this weather if I’m on a car. Now, the mutant class, Charles,” Erik points out again.
“I’m going there… Class five?! You’re joking,” Charles screeches.
“As if you can overplay your mutant class… So yes, I can indeed feel the charge at cloud level. Granted, I have to focus on it, but it’s still within my abilities,” Erik turns and grabs back his things, shoving his driving licence back in his bag before Charles starts ranting about the expiration date or complaining that Erik never told him his birthday.
“Sorry, my friend, I still find it hard to believe,” Charles insists.
“Alright, the light show will start in five,” Erik puts the car on neutral and lifts his left hand, displaying five fingers. “Four, three, two,” he gradually lowers each digit. Just as he lowers his index finger, the skies break open. Charles forgets their argument, his eyes pinned on the window. Erik pulls over on the side and switches off the engine. His attention is at first also in the storm, but it steadily goes to Charles, his wavy drying hair, his wide blue eyes illuminating the lightnings, his small smile displaying slightly crooked teeth.
And he did offer a coffee date, didn’t he?
“Oh, dear god, Erik, it’s beautiful,” Charles whispers, his eyes pinned on the sky. Erik feels himself smiling too, his cheeks heating up. If Charles turns his head, he swears he’s going to throw himself into an incoming car.
And, kurwa, Charles does turn, the same magical smile on full display now. “We’re going to be stuck for a while, right?” he asks. Erik blinks, slowly remembering that he has to answer in order to pretend he’s still got a brain.
“I theoretically can drive through a storm…” he mumbles. He knows he’s going to be flirting with a migraine if he uses his powers that heavily for four hours. But the air is running out in here, and Charles is looking at him like that.
“You’re the driver, you decide,” Charles is still fucking smiling. No, Erik can’t stay here. He turns on the engine again and drives off.
The traffic has vanished, allowing Erik to relax, his powers focusing on spotting other vehicles and protecting the car from the storm. Charles’s eyes are still on the windows, the smile is still there.
“I’m terribly sorry, you didn’t have anything planned for today, did you?” Charles asks after a moment of silence, the CD still playing lowly. Erik shakes his head.
“Only a few houseplants to water,” he responds, but still lists off tasks. Papers are marked, lessons are planned, he has his appointment with Emma tomorrow… Fuck, did he forget his meds at home?
He curses under his breath and pulls over, grabbing his bag and pretending Charles doesn’t stare at him. He’s careful to not take the pill box off, just to make sure it’s there. With a relieved sigh, he puts the bag back on its place and drives on.
“You could ask me,” Charles points out, but Erik just shrugs.
“It’s alright,” he hums, focusing on the road. Charles just keeps humming along with the CD, his eyes on the window.
“You’re a pretty good driver, you know,” Charles mumbles absentmindedly. Erik wishes he could ignore the heat in his cheeks and ears.
“Thank you,” he blurts out, praying he sounds human.
“You’re very welcome, my friend… although, I’m wondering, how are you when driving a bike,” Charles asks, his fingers tapping on the armrest.
“I first learnt to drive on a bike and then a car, so I’m more confident with it. Which is a more mature way to say I’m a complete daredevil on it,” he smiles when he hears Charles’s laugh.
“I always wanted to see how riding a bike is…” he trails off
“I would offer if we had a way to carry your wheelchair on it,” Erik says before thinking. Fuck, he has to salvage it. “But we can’t really tie it on the side, the shift of weight will be dangerous, and the exhaustion could damage it,” he adds, hoping he’ll gently kill Charles’s dreams.
“Are you that unwilling to carry me bridal style?” Erik really has to focus to make the car keep going straight and not drift sideways. Thank god, Charles laughs. “Don’t worry, I was joking. God, you should see your face,”
“You’ll get us killed, you lunatic. Actually, the wheelchair can be handled, this is exactly why I’m never taking you anywhere with the bike,” Erik snaps, forcing himself to take deep breaths when the car starts shaking along with his rage. Charles doesn’t open his mouth again, Erik doesn’t know if he should be glad or guilty.
Charles goes through the CDs in the glove compartment again. “Why again are you so against that Beatles CD?” he asks.
“Sentimental reasons,” Erik answers sharply. He’s on a car with a telepath, surely he’ll catch the memo.
“Very descriptive. No further comments?” Charles asks instead, effectively shooting at Erik’s hopes.
“I told you, it’s personal,” Erik insists, even though he knows Charles is one of the few people on the planet who can compete with his stubbornness.
“A deal, you tell me, I tell you how I broke my back. I’ve heard you wandering, don’t lie that you don’t care,” Charles bargains, pointing at Erik with his index finger.
“Like I’m talking to Emma…” Erik mumbles with a deep sigh. How did he end up here?
“Who’s Emma?” Charles immediately shifts the topic, the jealousy obviously in his voice. Erik wants to laugh at it.
“A friend, relax,”
“Bullshit, you can’t lie to a telepath,” Charles snaps.
“A therapist, satisfied?!” Erik snaps back, his fingers digging deep in the metal of the steering wheel. This was a mistake, he should have left Charles in the rain. If there was a pavement in here, he would pull over and kick Charles out in the thunderstorm. Charles doesn’t speak more, allowing Erik to breathe, mend the steering wheel and focus on anything but the conversation.
“Thank you, Logan now owes me fifty,” Charles chimes proudly. Erik’s too dumbfounded to be angry.
“You had a bet with Logan on whether I see a shrink?” he questions. Charles nods, not a speck of shame in him.
“He was sure you are, and I quote,” Charles puts on an impressive Midwestern accent, “‘not fucking self–aware enough to even hold a shrink’s business card without burning himself like a man possessed holding a Bible’. But I always had faith in you, Erik,” he smiles. Erik, a man proud of his quick tongue, finds himself completely at a loss for words. But at least the topic has moved away from the Beatles.
“Seriously, as if you don’t have the next generation to educate,” he mumbles to himself.
“Oh, sod off. Logan put such a bet on someone with a psychology degree, he had it coming,” Charles snorts.
“You have a psychology degree?!” Erik asks, his curiosity collaborating with his urge to move the conversation away from him.
“Yes, I got it along with my biology degree, I was indecisive. Biology won, so here came a genetics master’s degree and a PhD on mutant genetics. I never even got my certification to become a therapist,” he explains, his eyes back at the window, at the storm going on steadily. And all that, so he can teach high school students about the birds and the bees. Erik doesn’t know if he should admire Charles or pity him.
“You didn’t answer my question, though, about the CD,” Charles diverts back to that fucking topic. It’s not even that he’s blind, he purposefully ignores Erik’s signals at this point.
“I burnt it for someone important to me,” maybe if he’s vague, Charles will be satisfied. But, of course, he’s not that fortunate.
“Nasty breakup?” Charles asks instead, now pissing on the corpses representing Erik’s hope, because shooting at them wasn’t enough for this sadist. Erik only shakes his head, fighting the urge to toy with the wedding ring and pendant hanging from his neck.
“Why do you keep asking and you don’t just look?” he asks, turning his head to glare at Charles.
“It would be a breach of your privacy,” Charles argues, making Erik actually laugh.
“Your stubborn insistence on asking when I’ve made it clear I don’t wish to talk about this topic is a breach of my privacy. Just look for yourself,” he points out, purposefully lowering his defence before he looks back at the road. Charles is discreet, a slight warmth along his spine, so soft one can miss it if they don’t pay attention to it. He’s out as soon as he’s inside. Erik glanced sideways, freezing when he notices Charles has grown ashen, his eyes glassy.
“My friend, I’m so sorry-” he starts, his voice shaky. Erik shakes his head.
“No, take your pity and shove it up your British arse, I’ve had enough of it. As long as you understand why I don’t want to talk about them right now, we’re fine,” he interrupts Charles, watching him slowly close his mouth and stare forward, taking in the information.
Erik wants to curse at himself. He had one person treating him like an equal, and now it’s gone, he’s a sad story once again, the guy who lost a wife and a daughter in one evening. Why did he pick Charles up?
“My step–brother pushed me off the stairs. We didn’t have a good relationship, but he never expected that. I’m not mad at him any more, he was a victim too in his way, we made up after I got my PhD and he got in the army, after we moved on,” Charles’s voice is cold, robotic. Erik turns to look at him, but he doesn’t have time to ask. “I said I’d tell you if you told me, it’s only fair,” Charles explains.
“But I didn’t tell you,” Erik argues.
“I know, you let me see your memory. But, it would be dangerous to push the memory of being thrown down an enormous staircase while you’re driving,” he points out, drawing a short chuckle from Erik.
The silence fills the car again, the trees slowly covering the landscape as the storm carries on. The music still goes on, but Charles doesn’t hum along any more. The silence is suffocating, Erik is sure he’ll go mad if they go on like this until North Salem.
“Did you ever have a pet?” he asks suddenly, gaining a frown from Charles.
“My mother tried to buy me a puppy for Christmas at one point. We gave it away one visit to the ER later, when we realised fur makes me dangerously anaphylactic. I was considering a goldfish, but in my college years I learnt I can’t keep alive a plastic plant,” Charles answers after a moment, a small smile in his lips. “Did you ever have a pet?” he asks back.
“My sister had a hamster, I decided to never adopt a pet due to this fucker. He ate through the wall and bit a wire, destroying our fridge and killing himself in the process, Ruth was distraught and we had to eat exclusively takeout for a week,” he answers, smiling when he hears Charles laugh.
“Oh dear god, fucking hamsters,” he shakes his head. “But you did mention some houseplants,”
“The best thing I could do with Emma’s suggestion of a pet,” Erik finds himself answering casually. Maybe Charles is coaxing him with his powers, maybe it’s the fact that Charles already knows the worst of it. Either way, Erik doesn’t mind. Charles just hums, letting the conversation die out again.
“Oh, we only have about half an hour left,” he points out at some point.
“And another hour and a half to go home,” Erik mumbles. Charles opens his mouth to say something, but he remains silent.
“Although, the area looks nice, I understand why you don’t move closer,” Erik adds, the visibility good enough for them to see the pine trees around them.
“Thank you, I’ve been telling that to Raven, she doesn’t seem to understand,” Charles chuckles, his lips turned upwards. Erik doesn’t know why, but he wishes he can make the drive last longer.
He starts frowning when they drive through North Salem and the GPS says they have to go back to the forest, when Charles doesn’t correct Erik as he drives through a nearly abandoned road through the woods. Erik wants to start asking questions when he feels a heavy iron gate on their way, when he drives through and Charles doesn’t screech that they’re entering someone’s property. His jaw touches the floor when he sees a fucking palace in the end of the driveway, and Charles sighs in relief and guides Erik towards the garage, the door opening with a press of a button in Charles’s keychain.
Said garage is filled with vintage cars, each perfectly maintained and costing a fortune.
“This is where you live?!” Erik asks once he parks his car, the truck snapping open so he can fight with Charles’s wheelchair again. He unfolds it faster than he folded it, moving it near Charles to let him transfer onto it.
“Family property,” Charles explains. He knew Charles’s family was well off, but Holy Fuck.
“And you’re a high school teacher?!” Erik’s voice reaches a hysterical tone.
“I’m enjoying teaching. I was even thinking of turning this into a boarding school, but just seeing what poor Hank goes through was discouraging enough,” Charles remains calm as he moves across the garage to a door. Erik follows closely, scared he’ll get lost.
“You could be sipping mojitos on some remote island and you’re a high school teacher?” Erik asks again, absolutely shocked.
“That would be dreadfully boring, and you can’t say our job isn’t interesting. Why do you keep asking? You also enjoy what you do, is it so weird I chose it?” Charles guides Erik to an lift, pressing a button once they’re both inside.
“Fair point, fair point. Another question, your garage is full of cars and you couldn’t take one of them while your car is getting fixed?” he raises his eyebrows, somehow earning a laugh out of Charles.
“As you may have noticed, they’re all antiques. It’s extremely difficult to find parts for such cars, and I’m not as skilful in a car as you. I’m too scared I’ll crash them and be unable to fix them if I drive them,” he explains, moving out of the lift once the doors open, Erik still trailing behind him.
“I was thinking about an early dinner, what about you?” Charles suggests. Erik wants to say he’s not that hungry, as if he doesn’t plan on visiting the first deli the moment he hits the road, but he knows lying is pointless with Charles.
“You don’t have to, really,” he says instead, making Charles shake his head.
“You drove all the way here through a thunderstorm, it’s the least I could do. Come on,” Charles moves through the corridors, Erik has to stay right behind him to avoid getting lost in the maze. Charles guides them to a small kitchen, most likely originally reserved for the staff, but still fully equipped.
“No huge dining room with chandeliers and expensive carpets?” Erik raises an eyebrow as Charles moves to the fridge and chooses a small container.
“That thing has been closed for years, collecting dust and cobwebs. Most of the mansion is, considering only the maintenance staff and I stay here full–time. Go ahead, pick something,” Charles gestures at the fridge. Erik studies the food containers before choosing something that looks like red meat and rice.
“Maintenance staff?” he asks, handing over the container and watching as Charles empties them both in two plates and shoves them in a microwave.
“This place is impossible to maintain for an able–bodied person, of course I’ll need an extra pair of hands. It’s a lot of bother, but I grew up here, I managed to get the good memories to win over the bad ones, I can’t abandon it,” he explains, moving around the kitchen to fetch them cutlery and glasses. “Do you want wine with your food?” he asks.
“No, thank you, I don’t drink,” Erik smiles politely, still helping Charles set the table. He laughs when Charles pulls a bottle of grape juice out along with the wine.
They eat their food in silence, Charles humming after each bite of microwaved food and Erik using one hand to massage his temple.
“You should probably sleep here, the storm is only getting worse, and you’re exhausted,” Charles suggests.
“No, no, I can drive home,” Erik shakes his head, failing to conceal a yawn. Charles doesn’t argue, he just keeps one eyebrow raised until Erik yields.
Erik manages to convince Charles to let him do the dishes, Charles wiping them dry and putting them back in their place.
“So, I could set you in one of the guest rooms, if you don’t mind the dust,” Charles says. Erik is tired, his brain to mouth filter is weak, he shouldn’t be allowed to talk.
“And here I thought this was a seduction scheme,” he smirks, his brain refusing to regret this.
“Do you want to be seduced?” Charles asks, an eyebrow raised. Erik wishes he drank so he could blame the wine for the redness of his cheek, but he still nods. “My bed can accommodate two,” he suggests, and Erik wants to pretend he’s not eager, he didn’t dream about it for months.
Charles guides Erik through the corridors once more, going seemingly in circles, until Charles cracks open a door and lets himself and Erik inside a spacious bedroom.
“Honestly, one day you say I’m teaching a false science, the next we’re about to share a bed…” Charles hums to himself as he opens a drawer and pulls out two sets of pyjamas.
“For a telepath, you’re pretty oblivious,” Erik points out, taking one pair and moving to the in suite bathroom. He feels Charles inside his head again as he goes through his night–time routine, having to hold back a laugh. Once he’s back in the bedroom, Charles is red and in complete shock.
“Your flirting skills are questionable at best, my friend,” he points out, moving towards the bathroom door as well.
“Said the false scientist that uses the phrase ‘my friend’ to flirt,” Erik responds, earning a middle finger before Charles disappears behind the door.
«Would you rather the dreadful mutation lines I used in college?» he asks inside his mind, making Erik actually laugh this time.
“Now I’m curious,” Erik says to the door, sitting on top of the bed covers. He grins when Charles comes back, pulling at the covers and transferring himself to the bed.
“Your powers, yes? Because I usually do hair colour or eye colour and neither of yours are helpful, so… That’s a mutation on the XMC-1 gene. A psionic control expressed on the physical world, over one of the universe’s four fundamental powers, with an additional physical expression. It’s a very groovy mutation. You, my friend, are a mutant,” Charles smirks at Erik’s grin.
“No, take it seriously. Mutation, right, took us from single-cell organisms to being”— Erik interrupts Charles with a kiss, — “the dominant life form on the planet. Infinite form of variation”— another kiss, —“through each generation, all through mutation. Did you even pay attention?” Charles puts a hand in Erik’s chest before he can lean in for a third kiss.
“Of course, of course. You said something about my powers being groovy and single cell organism and how we’re nothing but mammals so we should do it like they do on the Discovery Channel,” Erik offers a toothy grin, laughing when Charles lightly slaps his chest.
“I’m sleeping with a crude idiot,” Charles sighs into the ceiling, but still pulls at Erik’s shirt and kisses him, strong hands wandering on Erik’s scalp. Erik hums against Charles’s open lips, his tiredness replaced with pure want.
Logan laughs when Charles and Erik enter the teacher’s office, both carrying a coffee cup from the same store.
“How was the sleepover, ladies? And don’t lie, I can smell you,” he asks, an eyebrow raised. Charles goes red, but Erik feels his face splitting into that grin that makes students hide behind their books.
“Oh, it was terrific. I can’t even begin to describe the things Charles can do with his tongue, especially when he bent over and”— he begins, watching the horror in Logan’s face.
“Alright, that’s enough, this is still a school,” Ororo interrupts, but still takes out her wallet and gives Logan fifty dollars. Charles seizes the opportunity to claim the bill straight from Logan’s hands.
“No, he’s getting laid and is self–aware?” Logan groans.
“Mhm, and dead god, the flexibility this man has. And, on top of that, we’re both taking our sweet time with it”— Charles grins before Logan starts pressing his ears shut. They’re both laughing until the first period starts.