Chapter Text
Erik wakes when he feels someone gently lifting his face off of his keyboard.
"Mmrphen," he says.
"Sorry, love," Charles says quietly. "I didn't mean to wake you."
Erik blinks his eyes open. It's late. Charles is dressed for bed and the first number on the microwave clock is a single digit. Not good. He groans.
"I know you've been working diligently on this project and I'm sure it will pay off in the end," Charles says, stroking his hair, "but perhaps you should consider coming to bed? I'm sure you won't be much use to your team if you're this tired in the morning."
"I hate engineering," Erik says, closing his eyes and resting his face on the kitchen table again. "I hate computers. I hate electricity. I hate..." He opens his eyes and takes in the rest of his work space. "Pencils," he finishes lamely.
"I know, darling," Charles says. Charles is indulging him. Erik would glare at him, but that would require movement. Also, the fingers on his scalp feel amazing.
"I'm going to quit," Erik says mulishly. "I'm going to become an interior decorator. No more circuitry and troubleshooting and prototypes. It will be all fuchsia accents and... and violet ornamentation."
"Fuchsia doesn't really go with your complexion, love," Charles says.
But Erik's on a roll. "And shiny metal fixtures. And those frosted sliding glass doors. And lime green end tables."
"Okay," Charles says. "That's enough. You're delirious, Erik." Charles hoists him up by his armpits. "Bed. Now. Before you do something you regret. Like, well, anything with the color fuchsia, really."
"You just don't understand me," Erik absolutely does not whine. He tries to remember how walking works and settles for leaning against Charles and letting himself be dragged.
"Thank god for that," Charles says.