Archive of Our Own

"All right. That's it." Emma folded her arms. "You need to get laid."

"That's not a very professional thing to say," Erik remarked, looking up from his work at Emma, who was standing in front of his desk, in white as always.

"What's not professional is biting my head off for no good reason for weeks now," Emma countered crisply. “And you clearly need something else to occupy your time. You’re putting in far too many hours, it’s not healthy.”

Erik grinned, unable to help it, and teased, "When you say I need to get laid, Emma, I hope you're not--"

"No." Emma shook her head, blond waves bouncing, and made a face. "God, no. I barely have the patience to deal with you at work, let alone outside of it. No. No, I know the perfect person, sugar. The perfect person." She put her hands on her hips and sighed then, expression relaxing into her usual coolness, then a smug little smile. Oh no. "This'll be good."

"Wait. Emma. What are you planning, exactly?"

"He's cute," Emma said. "Trust me, he is."

"Show me what he looks like, then."

"That would spoil the fun. Erik, you know I have good taste."

Erik snorted. “If by ‘has good taste’ you mean ‘wears white all the time.’”

Emma ignored that, and folded her arms. "I'm going to call him. I'll give you your marching orders later."

"I'm not going. You can't mind-control me into doing whatever it is."

Emma was one of the few people he knew who was like himself, with extraordinary abilities existing in their genes, far more advanced than those of mere average humans. For a very long time after his powers manifested, Erik assumed he was alone and kept his abilities to himself, but in recent years, there had been an increasing number of strange incidents with such people, and Erik had met a few. The press called them mutants, and Emma’s mutation was telepathic in nature. For his part, Erik could sense and manipulate metal. Now, he bent a paperclip in midair, and spun it around.

"I won't have to mind-control you. You're dying of curiosity, you won't be able to resist at least meeting him. He is a mutant, by the way. 'Let's see,'" she said, apparently mimicking Erik's voice, "who could Emma have possibly thought good enough for me?'"

"If he's as hot as you’d have me believe, how can you be sure he’s not seeing someone?"

"You think you’re hot and you're not seeing anyone," she countered.

"You said yourself, I'm busy with work."

"He’s busy too. Look, Erik, this is happening, get used to it,” Emma declared. She went back to her office.

Erik shrugged and bent the paperclip into a question mark, just to do it, and then got back to work. He tried not to speculate about who on Earth Emma had in mind for him. Luckily, he had so much to do there almost wasn’t a choice.

-------

Charles was in the middle of reading a complex paper in his office when he heard Emma's voice clear and cool in his head.

Charles.

Emma? How are you?

Doing well, sugar. Listen, I have someone I'd like you to meet.

He immediately attempted to probe Emma's mind for more information as to what on Earth she was talking about, but she blocked him, mentally wagging a finger, smiling.

Now now, none of that. It'll be a surprise.

I'm not always fond of surprises, Charles replied.

You'll like this one. He's a workaholic in desperate need of some new company and relaxation.

Sounds delightful, Charles replied dryly.

In all seriousness, delightful isn't a word I'd use to describe him, but I do get the feeling you'll be thanking me.

Charles sighed. I know I've been working too much lately and I appreciate the offer, Emma--

Charles--

--but I am perfectly capable of--

Charles, if it helps, he could be a model. And he’s a mutant.

Perhaps it couldn’t hurt… All right. When am I supposed to meet this person?

Emma took a moment to think. Friday night. That French bistro you like.

Oh, indeed? And what will I be wearing?

Emma ignored his mild sarcasm. Something blue.

-------

Emma was right, Erik was wildly curious. That said, he wasn't particularly invested. He wore something nice, but that was because he had impeccable taste in clothing, not because he was trying to impress whoever this man was. All Emma had said was that his name was Charles. All he knew was that Charles was a man, a mutant, and good-looking by Emma's estimation.

Erik had shown up exactly on time, even though he knew it would have made a better impression if he'd been slightly late. Charles, at least, was ahead of him in that department. Erik checked his watch again.

He was starting to feel his curiosity sour into mild annoyance when a man in a blue sweater walked in, seemingly in a hurry, a bit flustered. He was not a tall man, but he had presence, thick brown hair, and a strong profile. Brow furrowed, he scanned the room, and then turned toward Erik, their eyes meeting.

Erik's mouth fell open a bit. The man had the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. If that isn’t Charles, he thought to himself, I'm going to talk to him anyway.

Then the man smiled at him, a warm, bright smile, one brow arching as he walked toward Erik's table. He didn't break the gaze. Erik felt a bit mesmerized.

"Erik," the man breathed, as Erik stood and met his firm handshake.

Erik blinked. "Yes," he said, and cleared his throat. "Yes. You must be Charles. Please, sit down."

They sat. Charles was regarding Erik with some fascination. "You have a mutation," he said in an English accent, "a very interesting one, one I haven't seen before--"

Erik was surprised. "Did Emma tell you what it was? That's more than she told me. She only said you were a mutant."

"She didn't tell me what yours was, no. That's part of mine, actually, I'm able to detect the mutations of others." Then Erik heard a voice in his head. I'm also a telepath.

Erik went still. "I've never met another telepath besides Emma," he said quietly. He was a little wary, unsure how on guard he should be, but he doubted Emma would have sent him on this date without warning him if he’d been in actual danger. Not if she valued her job, or her life.

It’s probably for the best that you haven’t, Charles sent him, wryly amused. The server arrived; Charles ordered a glass of red. Erik ordered a beer, and asked for a few more minutes to decide on entrees.

"So, your mutation," Charles said. “It’s-- something like telekinesis, but different--”

"It’s to do with magnetic fields and anything metal," Erik said. To demonstrate, he used his power to pull Charles’ cutlery out from its napkin and twist it around itself, then restored it to normal, resting it on either side of Charles’ placemat.

“Very nice,” Charles said. “That must come in handy.” He grinned.

Their drinks arrived. “Sorry,” Erik said, and took a swallow of beer, “I’m a little taken aback. I wasn’t expecting you to be a telepath.”

Charles smiled, and looked distant for a moment, then laughed. “I’m sorry. I was just thanking Emma, and she’s being a little smug. Which may not surprise you.” He shook his head briefly, as if shaking Emma out of his head, and took a drink of wine. His lips were, Erik noticed, naturally quite pink.

Erik laughed. “No, that doesn’t surprise me.” He paused. “Wait, she’s not in here, is she?” He figured Emma had better things to do than spy on them, but….

“Er, no, she’s not.” Charles chuckled. “My range is extensive enough, I suppose.” He shrugged, the tip of his tongue discreetly swiping wine from his lower lip.

“You’re not in my head right now, are you?” Erik caught the way the corners of Charles’ mouth curled up a bit at that.

“No,” Charles said. “I was when I first came in, seeking you out, but very subtly, I don’t think you noticed. While I can sense ambient feelings and thoughts, I can turn that off, if you will, and from this point on I won’t actually enter your mind without asking beforehand.”

“But you could whether I wanted you to or not.” Erik was more intrigued than threatened. He knew from his acquaintance with Emma that she could do such things, but when she did choose to do them, she was often flagrant about it, being unnerving on purpose to intimidate people and keep them off balance, acutely aware of her power. Charles evidently wasn’t like that.

“Yes, I could,” Charles admitted, looking more serious.

“You’re quite the powerful mutant,” Erik commented, smiling, then taking another drink.

-------

Charles hadn’t been expecting Erik to be impressed by his mutation, necessarily, but he was surprised that he was not only impressed but a little bit turned on by it.

Generally speaking, even mutants weren’t exactly thrilled to be around telepaths, let alone aroused. If it hadn’t been for Emma’s insisting that Erik was very accepting of mutants, Charles might have waited longer to tell him much of anything about his particular abilities, and certainly wouldn’t have spoken to him telepathically, but apparently the risk he’d taken was worth it. As it was, he’d only described himself in the most general terms.

And of course Emma had been right: Erik was very good looking. Charles didn’t think of himself as shallow -- he more than most people knew that appearances had very little to do with a person’s inner life and morals -- but after all, he had his preferences, and Erik hit them like he had a checklist.

For starters, he was wearing a black leather jacket and an understatedly wicked expression. He was tall and lean, his eyes were a blue-green-gray that was almost luminous; he had ruffled gingery hair that begged for Charles’ fingers in it, and stubble that needed to be scraped along various planes of Charles’ body. He had a sonorous voice that Charles could easily imagine murmuring in his ear. He was delectable.

“What is it you do, Charles?” Erik asked.

“Emma didn’t tell you that either?” Charles laughed. “I’m a professor. I study and teach genetics, usually in the context of mutations.” Keeping it simple; no need to inform Erik of the number of degrees he had. As it was, Erik’s pupils had seemingly dilated at Charles’ words. Aroused by his abilities and his brain, then; Charles thought to himself that he couldn’t let this go to his head, and laughed.

“And you and Emma work at that arms manufacturer? That must be… interesting.” The server returned then, interrupting that particular line of conversation for the time being. She was a petite, bright-seeming girl. After she took their orders -- boeuf bourguignon for Charles, pan-roasted duck breast for Erik -- and left, Charles leaned in and whispered to Erik, “She’s a mutant, by the way.”

“Really?” Erik looked fascinated. “What can she do?”

“Something to do with transporting herself through matter and possibly time. I can’t be more specific without probing, but it’s very interesting. She must wish she could use it openly at work -- it seems like it would be very helpful with this particular job.”

Erik rubbed his thumb over his lower lip, and nodded, looking thoughtful. Charles had to admit Erik’s keen interest in the topic of mutation was having an effect on him as well, and it couldn’t all be the wine.

Charles didn’t have a chance to get back on the topic of Erik and Emma’s work, because as they waited for their entrees, Erik asked him about his teaching and research. Charles opted for another glass of wine, which contributed to his expounding at considerable length on various and sundry topics related to his field. And, he could admit to himself, his increasing level of flirtation with Erik. It seemed this was on, after all.

The food was, of course, delicious. All the talking had definitely caused him to work up an appetite. And he would probably need his energy in the coming hours….

“So, Charles,” Erik said conversationally at one point, “what do you think about the fact that our mutant server friend can’t openly use her abilities on the job?”

Charles frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Do you think it’s right?” Erik’s tone was light enough, but there was an intensity in his gaze now.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter if I think it’s right or not. It’s not safe for her.” There had been reports in the national news recently of a smattering of incidents in which a person with unusual abilities or a strange appearance had caused a stir and occasionally prompted violence, and honestly Charles was starting to be concerned, hoping there would be no increase in such events.

“And do you think that’s acceptable?”

“It’s what she needs to do to be safe, and to keep her job.”

“I mean do you think it’s acceptable that she needs to hide who she is to be safe.” Erik was starting to get a bit impatient.

“Well, no, of course not.”

Erik raised his head a bit, and smiled, looking pleased. “I’m glad we’re in agreement.”

“I have a feeling there’s more to this. What are you getting at, Erik?”

Erik lowered his voice and leaned forward a bit. “Mutants. Mutants against humans.”

Well, this was sudden. “Mutants against humans? We are humans, Erik. I’m a genetics professor, I should know.”

“Oh, Charles. Don’t be obtuse.” Erik ignored Charles’ sputter.

The server arrived then, to see if they needed anything. Erik looked conspiratorially at Charles, who shook his head sharply and gently kicked his foot against Erik’s. Don’t say whatever you’re thinking of saying, he sent to Erik. You’ll put her at risk. We’ll tip her well. Erik looked mutinous for a moment, but subsided and merely ordered some profiteroles for dessert. Charles ordered a slice of apple tart.

With her departure, an awkward silence hung over the table. Erik drank the last of his beer. Perhaps, Charles thought, that was the end of the discussion. But he doubted it. Frankly, he was a bit stunned from being called “obtuse” for stating basic facts, by a blind date no less. This was going to come up again at some point in the evening, he was sure of it.

-------

Erik started to eat his profiteroles in silence, sulking a bit; Charles had seemed so perfect. But after all, perhaps he could eventually be brought to a place of understanding; no sense in giving up on him yet. In the spirit of a truce, he inquired after Charles’ apple tart. Charles, looking relieved at the break in tension, said it was delicious.

He really did have gorgeous eyes. It was all too easy to imagine them hooded, darker with lust and promise.

No, he hadn’t given up on Charles just yet. Far from it, really.

It was just so exciting to think of Charles’ potential here -- his ability to detect other mutants by itself would be enough, considering how many must be hiding themselves out of fear. But on top of that, his ability to read minds and communicate telepathically was truly incredible, especially considering Emma had been very clear that she was not interested in being a conduit for Erik’s “notions.” Erik took a deep breath. Later, he could explain himself.

Later…. What else would later entail, exactly? With another glance at Charles’ lips, Erik suddenly really wanted to get out of there. He ate his last profiterole and signaled for the check. Charles opened his mouth to say something, but Erik cut him off with “I’ll get it. You can tip her.” He winked.

Charles looked amused. That was a good sign. “In a hurry?” Charles asked in a low voice, as the server approached them.

“Maybe.” He grinned, and took the check holder from the server.

Charles peered at the amount on the bill, and they both took out their wallets. Charles’ tip looked to be roughly half the rather sizeable total, and he took the check holder from where Erik had lain it and stood to take it to the server, where she was speaking to the hostess.

Standing, Erik watched him. He looked so gracious and friendly as he spoke to her, and she beamed back at him, thanking him. Still, Erik felt a stab of annoyance -- was Charles one of those who felt that money, paying people off, solved everything? A one-time fifty percent tip was all well and good, and certainly generous, but what would that do in a world where this girl couldn’t take the risk of showing who she truly was, of living to her full potential?

Erik walked toward the hostess stand, feeling Charles’ eyes on him. Unable to resist strutting a little, he grinned and met his gaze, and Charles got a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Where to now?” Charles asked as Erik sidled up to him. He was a few inches shorter than Erik, but with the presence he had, it wasn’t to his detriment; if anything, it might actually enhance his attractiveness, at least as far as Erik was concerned, and that was all that mattered anyway.

“Well,” Erik mused, “there’s a pub down the block, known for its scotch--”

“I do like scotch,” Charles interjected.

“--But I have better scotch at my place,” Erik finished.

“Your place it is, then,” Charles said, bumping his shoulder against Erik and gesturing toward the door. “Tell me, Erik, do you play chess?”

It turned out Charles actually did want to literally play chess, and he was a very charming opponent, slightly drunk, flushed, eyes bright. Not too drunk and charming, however, to also be very formidable, though every time Erik accused him of cheating with his power (mostly joking) he denied it.

He had a lot of praise for the sleek styling of Erik’s apartment; after the third game, he looked around Erik’s living room, downed some scotch, and remarked, “So much metal. I can’t help wondering if your bed is made of metal as well.”

Erik raised a brow. “As a matter of fact, it is. Subtle, Charles.”

Charles shrugged, grinning mischievously, tipping his glass toward Erik. Erik tipped his glass back.

“I could have shown you first thing, but you wanted to play chess.” Erik tsked, and shook his head in mock reproach. He set his glass back on the table. “So. Telepathic sex.”

Charles choked on a sip of scotch. “Subtle, Erik.”

“You had to know I’d be curious.”

“Everyone usually is.”

Erik pretended shock, a hand to his chest. “Everyone? Really, Charles.”

Charles laughed. “I mean people who know about telepathy in general. Not many people know I’m a telepath.”

“Oh, so I’m special.”

“Very special.” Charles set down his glass.

“So why are we still sitting here, then?”

“Excellent question.” Charles stood, looking expectantly at Erik.

Erik walked toward him, their eyes locked. He was holding his breath; perhaps Charles was as well.

Charles stepped closer and stretched upward to kiss him, hands going to frame Erik’s neck, pulling him downward a bit. Erik, stooping slightly, laughed softly against Charles’ mouth. Charles drew back just slightly, looking flushed and slightly indignant, red mouth open.

“You’re not that much taller than I am,” he said, hands moving to grip Erik’s leather jacket. And really, their legs were about the same length; it was just that Erik’s torso was longer. Erik walked a few steps forward to push Charles back against the wall; he seized Charles’ hips and shifted him upward, lifting him with some aid from his power sensing the iron in Charles’ blood, his own hips fitting tight to support Charles’. Pressing him to the wall, Erik kissed him.

Charles groaned as he wrapped his arms around Erik’s shoulders and his legs around Erik’s hips, apparently wildly in favor of this development. Erik ground against him and Charles writhed, held tight between Erik and the wall.

“Will I have to hold you up against a wall every time I kiss you?” Erik murmured, between kisses.

“You won’t have to in bed,” Charles replied tartly, and for that Erik kissed him again, harder, Charles clutching at him, wrapping his legs more tightly around him.

Eventually Erik had to draw back to take a breath. He blinked. The serene regard Charles had had for him for most of the evening had sharpened into an unmistakeable smolder of lust, his tranquil blue eyes having gone dark and hooded. It was better than Erik had imagined.

“Well then, Erik,” Charles said, voice low, “what are you up for this evening?”

“Read my mind and find out for yourself,” Erik said, faintly challenging.

Charles stared at him, eyes going slightly out of focus as he concentrated, biting his lip. Erik felt Charles’ entering his mind and sucked in a breath, but quickly recovered to lay out his ideas to Charles in a dizzying blur of images: Charles on his back, Charles riding him, Erik on his back, Erik on all fours. Erik getting blown, Charles getting rimmed.

Erik watched as Charles blinked rapidly, color staining his cheeks and ears more brightly.

“So,” Charles said, breathless, “anything and everything, really.”

“Within reason.” Erik shrugged, grinning.

“Now, think,” Charles said, rolling his hips against Erik’s and kissing along his jaw, “which of those things do you want most?”

Erik closed his eyes, a little shiver running through him as Charles nipped at his neck.

“I’ll know if you’re lying,” Charles added in a teasing tone, lips brushing his skin. Erik laughed, breathless, and swallowed, cock pulsing insistently.

“Can’t you tell what I want most just from my thoughts?”

“Yes, but I want to hear you say it.”

Erik paused, then said it. “I want you to fuck me, Charles.”

-------

Charles could feel a new flush spreading over his skin as he moved to hold Erik’s face between his hands. He kissed him, wet and dirty, then murmured, face still close to Erik’s, looking into his eyes, “Bedroom.”

Erik’s lashes fluttered, and Charles caught his intake of breath. Interesting. He didn’t have to do much seeking to get the idea that Erik -- decisive, bold, outspoken Erik -- wasn’t against Charles taking control.

Oh, this was working out nicely. Charles’ already considerable interest in Erik ticked up a few notches.

Erik kissed him again, a little distractedly now as his mind was focused on getting them to the bedroom, and lowered him to stand on the floor. He hastily shed his jacket, and Charles his sweater, and Charles followed Erik to his bedroom.

Immediately, Charles took hold of Erik’s shirt and tugged it upward. Startled for a moment, Erik let it be pulled off, going still as Charles looked at him, running a hand down his lean chest. “Gorgeous.”

Erik stood like a statue to be admired, but in a moment he became impatient and reached for the buttons of Charles’ Oxford -- Erik knew he was good-looking and well-kempt, but it wasn’t especially important to him just now, not when he wanted to see Charles instead, to touch him.

“Are you catching my thoughts?” Erik asked, nimbly unbuttoning.

“Surface thoughts, yes,” Charles said honestly. “And anything radiating from you. I’m not digging -- you’d probably sense that.”

“Unless you didn’t want me to.” Erik pushed Charles’ shirt from his shoulders.

“Unless I didn’t want you to,” Charles acknowledged, shrugging the shirt off, toeing his shoes off. Something about his shoulders seemed to please Erik quite a bit.

“That must be useful in bed,” Erik said.

“What, going into people’s minds without them knowing?” Charles raised his brow. “Useful, yes. Unethical, definitely.”

“No, no, not what I meant,” Erik said, and he was truthful. “I just mean the ability to read someone’s mind, period. To know what they want, in sex.”

“It can be wonderful -- if your partner isn’t bored or disinterested,” Charles said, wry.

“I can’t imagine anyone finding you boring or uninteresting,” Erik said, tipping Charles’ chin up to kiss him, the unexpected moment of sweetness from a man he’d just met giving Charles pause, but not necessarily in a bad way.

“You haven’t met my ex-wife,” Charles answered simply, leaning up again for another kiss, feeling Erik’s surprise at his words. He caught a flurry of thought about Erik’s own ex-wife, even a brief one about his children. Well, they had something else to talk about later, perhaps.

Erik kissed him, hands running over him, Charles taking the chance to touch Erik in turn, until Erik pulled back to sit on his bed. He took his shoes off, hands going to his belt buckle. “Let me,” Charles said, pushing Erik back a bit to kneel between his legs. Erik dropped to lie on his elbows, and watched in amusement as his metal-tipped belt worked itself free under Charles’ startled fingers. He drew it through his belt loops and let it float in the air. “My powers have their uses in the bedroom as well,” he told Charles, visions of chains and handcuffs dancing through his head.

“I don’t doubt it,” Charles said, remembering as well what Erik had said earlier about his metal bed. Erik dropped the belt to the floor, and Charles tugged his jeans off. Erik was wearing very clingy little boxer-briefs -- he looked like he could be an underwear model, and it appeared he had quite the sizeable cock. Charles licked his lips, and then caught Erik’s amused expression. He unbuttoned his jeans, then realized Erik was using his ability to draw down his zip. Erik turned his hand to use the zip and grommets of Charles’ jeans to pull them down from his hips.

Laughing, Charles pushed them off the rest of the way and kicked them aside, then leaned in over Erik, one hand moving to cup Erik’s cock through the material of his boxer-briefs, already damp where the tip pressed against the cotton. Erik gasped, automatically shifting to spread his thighs, tilting his hips up, seeking more. Charles rubbed the heel of his hand over Erik, who arched up against it, his hands moving to grip Charles’ shoulders.

Charles had to close his eyes for a moment, take a deep breath, and bring himself down a bit. Erik was an absolute vision of perfect sin.

“Listen,” he said to Erik, who was staring up at him, slightly dazed, “I know you want this -- I want it too, Christ -- but are you absolutely certain you want this when we’ve just met?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Erik said, breathless. “I thought you said you could tell what I wanted.”

“Right, but wanting something and it being the best idea are two different concepts.”

“Are you really lecturing me instead of fucking me?” Erik looked both amused and irritated. He restlessly rocked up against Charles’ hand, and dug his blunt fingernails into Charles’ arms. “We’ll be safe, won’t we? What’s the problem?”

“There’s not a problem, it’s just we’ve only met today.”

“And? I think that’s amazing, myself. Do you not do this very often, Charles?”

Charles barked out a laugh. “I’ve had possibly more than my share of sleeping with people I barely know, when it comes down to it, although most of those years are well behind me.”

“So, I’m confused. We were set up to go on a date, we’ll be safe, you don’t have a problem with casual sex….” Erik drew his hands up Charles’ shoulders, down his chest, fingers sliding deliberately over his nipples.

“It’s just that, well, I’d like to see you again,” Charles blurted.

Erik shrugged. “You can. There’s nothing about fucking me the first night you’ve met me that precludes ever seeing me again. But why start out slow if that’s not what we really want?”

“You’re right. You’re right.” Charles shook his head, and leaned in to kiss Erik.

“I’m always right,” Erik said. “And,” he added, arching and twisting to get his little boxer-briefs off, “if you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll refuse to see you again.” He winked, but Charles caught the serious undertone, even as he was a bit distracted by Erik’s sizeable, quite inviting cock.

“If you’re sure you want a telepath you’ve just met in your mind and your body--” Charles was briefly interrupted by Erik sitting up a bit to tug Charles’ underwear down and attempt to get it off. Charles got it off the rest of the way, as well as his socks. He bridged himself over Erik again.

“Putting it like that isn’t doing a very good job of dissuading me.” Erik hooked his legs over Charles’ thighs.

“I don’t want to dissuade you.”

“Then shut up, Charles.” Erik pulled him down and kissed him. “I trust you to know what you’re doing, I trust you to be yourself with me.”

“You barely know me!” Charles protested, just before Erik kissed him again. And kept kissing him. This time, the sheer waves of lust, need, and insistence coming from Erik managed to distract Charles from his reservations, which were looking increasingly silly with every stroke of Erik’s hands down his back. He had to break to catch his breath.

“Right, where’s the--” Charles began. Erik raised a hand, waved it, and opened the metal drawer of the nightstand next to his bed. From it emerged a small metal tray, carrying on it condoms and lube.

Charles laughed, delighted. “Oh, that’s lovely.”

“I do more than party tricks, but yes.” With a slightly smug air, Erik brought the tray to rest next to them.

“Well, of course you do. There’s metal all throughout the universe, I imagine there are a great many things you’re able to do. But this is lovely. So elegant, so useful.” He couldn’t help another little laugh, because Erik looked so pleased with himself, yet he was also, in an oddly fond as well as endearing way, irritated with Charles.

Erik thumped Charles’ hip with his heel. “Get on with it, Charles.”

“Yes, yes.” Charles sat back and hastily popped open the lube, slicking his fingers liberally.

“Don’t spend a lot of time preparing me, I don’t need it,” Erik said, laying back, watching.

Charles slid two fingers inside him. “What if I want to?” He started fucking Erik with his fingers like that, watching him start to shift in response, a flush spreading over his chest and neck. His cock leaked onto his flat belly; Charles swiped the fingers of his free hand through the stickiness and licked it off, watching Erik’s eyes on his mouth.

“Charles, please,” Erik said, and Charles got the sense that Erik rarely begged or pleaded.

“No taste for foreplay, Erik?” Charles teased. “That’s a shame, I’ve been told I’m very good at it. By people I know aren’t lying.”

“Later,” Erik said. “Emma said I needed to get laid, I’m getting laid, damn it.”

Charles laughed. “She said that, did she? Happy to have been chosen for the task.” He withdrew his fingers, put on the condom, and lined up. “I believe,” he added, “foreplay after fucking is a contradiction in terms.”

“You know what I mean,” Erik said, stuttering out a gasp as Charles pressed into him. Erik was very flexible, and started to ably wrap his legs around Charles’ hips.

“I do,” Charles replied. “We’ll have to do this properly next time,” he teased, leaning in to kiss Erik, starting to fuck him in earnest and finally acquiescing to that frantic thread of impatience and need persisting through Erik’s thoughts.

He broke to say “Foreplay is an important part of getting laid,” and Erik actually growled and pulled him back into another kiss, practically fucking himself on Charles’ cock until Charles at last really let him have it, shaking the bed -- although that might have been Erik.

Erik twisted his fingers into Charles’ hair, legs locked around him, and mentally aimed a demand at Charles’ mind, one that Charles picked up with relative ease: that he enter Erik’s thoughts.

And so he did.

So good, Erik thought, kissing him hungrily, arching, lean body writhing. Charles worked a hand between them and took hold of Erik’s cock, making him gasp. The ripple of pleasure in Erik’s mind echoed in his own.

I can feel everything you’re feeling, Charles sent him. It’s lovely. Feel what it’s doing to me.

As the sensations flooded him, Erik sighed into his mouth. He was gorgeous under him, responsive, unafraid of Charles’ ability. It was all intoxicating, and Charles told him so. Erik was greedy for Charles’ reaction, soaking it up, giving Charles little biting kisses, pulling at his hair.

It seemed -- although Charles kept the thought to himself -- that under a very thick layer of the appearance of indifference, and in sharp contrast to what a private person he was, Erik kept shielded a core of very strong need, the extent of which he might not be fully aware of.

Let me feel it when you come, Erik thought at him, and Charles shuddered and sent him Yes.

Erik’s excitement flared in anticipation, and he started to pant as Charles began to stroke him.

Charles intended to last longer -- No, it’s all right, I want you to come, Erik sent him--

He shifted back, breaking the string of heated kisses to look at Erik, whose pale eyes blinked dazedly up at him.

Come on, give it all to me, Erik was saying, and Charles groaned, dropping his head forward to nip at Erik’s graceful neck, panting into the hollow of his collarbone as he came, Erik so close and tight around him everywhere, their thoughts commingling.

-------

That was not the kind of sex you had with a man you’d just met.

Yet here they were.

“That was… absolutely incredible,” Erik finally said, mouth dry. “I’ve never…. Anything even remotely like that. Unimaginable.”

The touch of Charles’ mind against his was not as strong now, but it was still a double dose of the usual post-sex satisfaction and contentment. The main thing, of course, was the extraordinary sensation of feeling someone else’s thoughts, another mind against his own, and to identify that as Charles. Sure, he felt something along those lines around Emma at times, but that was an entirely different situation for obvious reasons. Feeling Charles’ pleasure along with his own was unparalleled.

“Well,” Charles said, voice muffled against Erik’s skin from where he was tucked into his shoulder, “You flatter me, but after all, I am a telepath.”

“Is it usually like that?” Erik asked, wildly curious, stroking his fingers idly through Charles’ thick hair. “Being able to know someone else’s pleasure. I’d never leave bed. I’d prostitute myself.”

Charles lifted his head to raise his eyebrows at Erik, amused and wry. “If it were that easy, I’d probably have done that too. But it’s not. It’s almost never like that,” he said, and there was an odd wistfulness to his tone, seeping from him into Erik’s mind, but it ebbed almost immediately, Charles reeling it back. “Most people don’t appreciate intrusion into their thoughts.” There was more Charles wasn’t saying, but Erik got the gist.

“I can’t say I enjoy the way Emma goes about it,” Erik said. “But with you, it’s different.”

“I should think so.” Charles chuckled softly. “Emma and I are in different circumstances, as well. It’s understandable, but… my first choice would not be to be seen as a threat.”

“You said yourself people don’t like telepaths.”

Charles flinched a little at that, both physically and mentally, withdrawing a bit from Erik, who pulled him back again, gently. “Neither Emma nor I were raised in particularly supportive environments. Perhaps if we’d been… understood, and nurtured, we’d be very different people today.”

Erik went still. From Charles he got very vague impressions -- an attempt to give Erik an idea of what his childhood was like without going into humiliating detail -- that caused a deep anger to well within him, an anger Charles was seemingly devoid of.

Evidently Charles had grown up in a huge mansion, but as far as Erik could tell, he might as well have lived there alone, for all the attention and love he’d received from his family, with the exception of an adopted younger sister. Erik’s family hadn’t been rich at all, but at least his parents had doted on him. The very thought of Charles fending for himself, expecting no comfort from his elders, frightened of his own gift which had come on at a surprisingly young age--

Charles placed a hand over Erik’s pounding heart. “It’s all right,” he said quietly. “Calm yourself. It’s water under the bridge.”

“It’s not all right.” Impulsively, Erik kissed Charles’ temple. He realized upon closer inspection that Charles’ dark hair was threaded there with a touch of silvery gray, which made him even more attractive.

“Well, no, it’s not all right. But it happened, I’ve come to terms with it. Besides, I had my sister. Raven. She’s younger than I am, but she looks out for me. In her way.” He chuckled, sounding fond. “You know, I think she’d rather agree with you about mutants.”

“Oh yes? She’s a mutant, then? How did your parents end up taking her in?”

“They didn’t know.” Charles sighed, amused. “She’s a shapeshifter. She usually looks like your average pretty blonde, but more and more she’s been chomping at the bit to wear her natural appearance at all times. I think it’s dangerous, but… she’s stubborn. Very determined. When she showed up she’d been on her own for God knows how long.”

“No life for a mutant child,” Erik said, terse. “I expect my children’s powers to manifest soon. Their mother may not want to have much to do with me, but at least they won’t be… abandoned. They’re twins,” he added, in response to Charles’ curiosity and interest.

“I could tell you what their mutations are, if you like,” Charles offered. “Perhaps, at a later time.”

“Mm.” Erik nodded slowly, considering. “I think that would be good, yes.” Charles seemed pleased at being of use.

They got settled in for the night, and Charles slept along Erik’s back. Erik could just get a sense of his dreams, a feeling of contentment emanating from him. It did seem to help Erik get to sleep, as well.

He woke many hours later to Charles getting back into bed in his underwear, holding a cup of tea, the smell of Erik’s mint toothpaste in the air. “I hope you don’t mind,” Charles said. “I’ve made a cup for you as well.”

They spent Saturday morning in Erik’s bed, which was definitely unusual for Erik, who, when he did bring someone home, was usually concentrating on ushering them out the door as soon as possible. But it was raining out, and it was pleasant enough lying in bed with Charles, mostly talking, primarily about where they’d traveled in the world.

Erik settled against Charles, absently touching him as if he’d already developed the habit, finding that he returned again and again to cupping Charles’ hip, and his ass (he really had a magnificent ass and thighs, and when Erik had that thought, Charles caught it and sent him a wave of pleased amusement).

“After we pop in the shower,” Charles murmured, “we can revisit your thoughts from earlier.”

Not long thereafter, a freshly scrubbed Erik had a freshly scrubbed and naked Charles facedown and spread out on his bed, making the most exquisite moans at the feeling of Erik’s tongue in his ass. Apparently Charles didn’t have this done to him nearly often enough. In short order, he was squirming, demanding that Erik fuck him, which he was all too happy to do.

Charles came on all fours, Erik’s cock in his ass as he sent him incoherent but highly appreciative thoughts. Thoroughly undoing someone with Charles’ level of mental acuity was quite the boost to Erik’s ego.

After they recovered from that, they got dressed and went out to a sandwich shop, as it had stopped raining. Charles seemed amused at having to wear clothes from the day before for the first time in quite a while (Erik’s were unlikely to fit him, he said when dismissing that idea out of hand when Erik offered. Erik was mildly disappointed at not getting to see Charles in his clothes).

They were at the sandwich shop for a very long time after they’d actually finished eating, just talking, primarily about their education. Charles was interested in hearing about Erik’s time in trade school in Germany, but Erik was keenly interested in Charles’ attaining what turned out to be several degrees. It just so happened Charles enjoyed expounding on those things at length.

“When I was in grad school, my fiancee at the time -- Moira, she was another genetics student--”

“Your ex-wife?” Erik asked.

“Er, no, actually.” Charles rubbed the back of his neck, and sighed. “Moira broke off our engagement. A wise move, in the long run. My ex-wife would be Gabrielle, the mother of my son, David.”

“Oh.” Erik was surprised.

“I was meaning to mention him earlier, and then I got distracted.” Charles smiled, and shrugged. “I don’t see him too terribly often, I’m afraid. Gabrielle doesn’t live nearby. He has a psionic mutation as well, and it should manifest in a few years.”

“He’ll need your guidance then.”

Charles nodded. “It’ll be a challenge, but I’m the best positioned to do it. I do miss him. But Gabrielle’s job is there, and mine is here.” He sighed again. “I do see him every now and then.”

“Hopefully more often than I see my twins,” Erik said, giving Charles a sympathetic look.

Charles smiled wanly back.

-------

They went their separate ways, with promises to meet up again soon, in front of the sandwich shop. Charles was a little surprised at how flustered he got when Erik put a hand to his cheek and gave him a brief but firm kiss goodbye. It was a bit of a walk back to his flat, and he thought of Erik the entire time.

His flat was just as empty as it was when he’d left it; in fact, it felt emptier now. Lonely, even. Ironically enough, telepaths were susceptible to certain kinds of loneliness: feeling as if they were the only ones in the world with their ability, feeling isolated from the many average people who distrusted telepathy. Meanwhile, all they had to do to feel the presence of other people was to engage their ability. But there was something missing. Eavesdropping wasn’t a conversation, after all.

On the other hand, with fellow telepaths, like Emma, while fascinating, the situation could be overwhelming. Charles had yet to personally meet many telepaths, let alone become romantically involved with any. Frankly, the complications therein would seem to be the same as the ones non-telepaths perceived existed with him. At least, though, there would be a level of understanding.

Moira and Gabrielle had both been irritated by his tendency to rely on telepathy as a crutch, to take stock of their feelings that way rather than asking and trusting the answer (and always suspecting him of it even after he denied it), or by just observing their actions. He had an unfair advantage and always would, they felt; essentially, they accused him of cheating. It was a bit ironic, considering how many people had told him they wished they could read their partner’s minds. He held no bitterness toward either of them, however; they had done what they felt was best, and had essentially been right.

With his more casual partners, flings, and one-night stands, he hadn’t even mentioned being a telepath. It was gratifying being able to mysteriously hone in on exactly what they wanted in bed, but it was a lonely victory in its way, and ran the risk of the person in question starting to be suspicious, asking “How did you know that I…?” in times when he forgot himself and got overzealous.

Erik was the first person he’d been with who hadn’t been so bothered by his power, even though by all rights he should have been -- Charles was not so naive as to think anyone should reasonably accept him with no reservations about what could happen with it. Still, it was nice not to feel like a burden, to not feel as though Erik had a mental asterisk after his name, or that he had to start out apologizing for himself.

He answered some emails, did some errands and chores, and had some tea. With all that done, his thoughts returned to Erik and how quiet it was in his flat.

Before he could decide against it, he picked up his mobile to text Erik. Would you like to come round to mine this evening?

Erik didn’t respond for several minutes, during which Charles sunk deeper and deeper into his sofa, weighed down with growing mortification. He’d only just seen Erik several hours ago, after all. He probably looked mental. He was very careful not to try and feel out what Erik was thinking right now.

At last he received an answer. sorry about that. was talking to my ex wife. yes i’d like to. just say when.

Charles sighed in relief. Hope everything’s all right. Come round abt 8. Will text the address.

fine. see you then

-------

Erik blinked at his phone. He really had not been expecting to hear from Charles mere hours after they’d parted. Moreover, he had not expected to look forward to seeing anyone again so quickly. But… this was Charles. He’d go over there right now if he could, but for the fact that he’d just been for a run before Magda called, and wanted to shower first.

Charles. Erik was unsettled by how much he wanted to see Charles again, but at the same time, he wouldn’t trade the feeling for a pre-Charles existence.

The remarkable thing was, it wasn’t really about the sex. Which had been very good. But no, it was something more than that. Erik wasn’t sure if he could explain. On paper, he knew what it was -- two attractive mutants, around the same age, with plenty to talk about. What breathed life into this, though, was specific to them.

He showered and dressed, realized he had plenty of time, and laid down on the couch for a nap, intending for it to be a short one. But he woke to see he had only fifteen minutes to get over to Charles’, and would probably be late. Erik hated being late. If it weren’t for the panic it would cause, he would fly, but unfortunately that was out of the question.

On top of everything else, it started raining again. At the top of the hour, he still wasn’t quite to Charles’ building, even though he was hurrying. When he finally buzzed in, Charles answered with “I almost thought you weren’t coming.”

Charles, in a blue t-shirt and jeans, met his apologies with a string of little kisses. He took Erik’s wet jacket and got him a towel to mop off with, scolding him gently for not having brought an umbrella.

Erik looked around Charles’ apartment. Unsurprisingly, it was a bit disorganized, full of bookcases and stacks of books, comfortable furniture everywhere, the decor in warm, dark tones. “Make yourself at home,” Charles called, from on his way to the kitchen, “and I’ll get us some tea, I had the kettle on.” Erik sat on the couch, a soft leather one, and eyed the surrounding books, pondering the titles, as he waited.

Charles returned with two cups of tea; handing Erik one, he settled in next to him. “Again, I’m sorry I’m late,” Erik told him. “I was taking a nap and slept longer than I intended.”

“Ah. Did I wear you out?” Smiling over the rim of his cup, eyes dancing, Charles sipped his tea.

“Apparently.” Erik sighed. “I’m not used to such exertions.” He grinned back at Charles and took a drink. “Have you summoned me here to completely exhaust me?”

“You sound hopeful.” Charles settled back and put his sockfeet up on the coffee table. “You’re in excellent shape and you know it; I doubt anything I could come up with could exhaust you.” But the sideways grin he gave Erik was wicked.

“You know, for all your talk about my metal bed, we never made proper use of it,” Erik said.

“Shame, that.” Charles tsked. “My bed’s made of wood. I haven’t any metal handcuffs, either.”

“Mm. Tragic.”

“I do have rope. Wooden bed, nylon rope -- you’d be in a pickle.” Charles was still grinning.

“Really, Charles.” Erik sighed, trying to hide his smile. “Taking me to bed for the third time in two days?”

Charles set his cup down, and straddled Erik’s lap. “Seems like it,” he murmured, before leaning in to kiss him.

-------

“Well, that was lovely,” Charles sighed. He beamed fondly down at a stunned Erik, who was naked and tied to the headboard, his cock still in Charles’ ass, Charles’ come drying on his belly.

“You use that word a lot,” Erik croaked.

“Not usually. I blame you,” Charles said, pinching Erik’s nipples, grinning when that made Erik’s hips twitch upward. Charles didn’t really want to get off of Erik, but he couldn’t stay here forever. “I’ll untie you and get you some water,” he said, petting Erik’s chest.

“If you would,” Erik said faintly. Oh, Erik.

In short order, having binned the condom and wiped both of them off with a damp flannel, he brought Erik a glass of water and stretched out next to him, inspecting his wrists to make sure they weren’t chafed. They were a bit red, but Erik denied any problem. Frankly, he still looked a bit dazed, but at least he was on his way to being hydrated now. Charles himself was starving, having worked up an appetite, and Erik surely needed to eat. “There’s some chicken in the fridge, and some vegetables. I’ll make us a stir-fry,” Charles mused.

“Mmm,” Erik assented. He was a bit sleepy, and very content.

Charles kissed Erik’s temple. “I’ll find your clothes, wherever we may have left them, and-- well, I’ll find your underwear at least, no sense in you putting on more clothes than you really need.”

Charles got dressed in his shirt and jeans simply because cooking over the stovetop was impractical when naked. He found Erik’s underwear after some searching and brought it to him, and then had Erik follow him to the kitchen, where he sat at the bar and teased Charles about his cooking and demonstrated his ability on metal kitchen implements. They ate on the sofa and ended up watching a movie on some obscure channel until Erik fell asleep, his head on Charles’ shoulder.

Charles very gently awakened him with his mind. “Come on, let’s go to bed, hm?”

Waking up with nearly naked Erik nestled in his pillows and sheets was certainly an improvement over the past weeks… months. It was a little absurd to have spent this much time in one weekend with someone he’d just met, but all things considered, he figured he really ought to indulge himself.

While pondering this, he realized he was watching Erik sleep, and that this might be creepy. He decided it wasn’t; of the things he had the capability of doing, watching an attractive person sleep was low on the “creepy” list. And besides, he’d only been doing it for a few minutes.

Erik was deeply asleep and dreaming. Rather than wake him at all, Charles quietly got up, put on his robe, and made some tea and toast, with butter and cinnamon, and sliced up some fresh fruit. Erik seemed like the sort of person who ate egg-white omelettes and turkey bacon before running a precise amount at a precise time, and he’d only had an energy bar yesterday morning, but Charles didn’t want to presume.

When he went back to his bedroom, Erik was sitting up, stretching and yawning. He blinked at Charles and smiled, groggy. “Good morning. Again.”

“Indeed,” Charles replied. He passed Erik his cup of tea and plate and sat next to him, leaning against the headboard. “I hope this suffices, I wasn’t sure if you wanted something more… athletic to eat. I can make more,” he added.

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It’s not an imposition, I’d be happy to do it.”

“Well. Have you got eggs and bacon?”

Charles beamed at him.

-------

Erik had finally and with great reluctance on both sides been released from Charles’ apartment much later on Sunday morning, and only because they both had errands they absolutely had to get done that day. Erik didn’t think he’d ever done quite so much kissing in the span of a mere few hours.

A number of times over the course of the day after they’d parted, Erik considered texting Charles one random thought or another, finding himself missing his casual presence. But he didn’t, and Charles, out of respect for boundaries (he’d explained earlier that day) stayed out of contact with his mind. Even so, he was thinking of Charles constantly. How the world had changed since Friday.

Monday morning came as it had to, far too soon. Emma came into his office as he sat waiting for his coffee to cool, trying not to daydream too much about Charles.

“So. How did it go?” Emma battered her lashes, with a fake smile. Then she dropped the expression entirely, pretending surprise. “Oh, wait. I almost forgot, I’ll get better answers this way.” With her typical lack of gentleness, Emma rifled through his mind.

She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes, tilting her head as she regarded him. She had to see the small purpled bite mark on the side of his neck just above his collar (it just so happened Charles was the perfect height to kiss him there).

“What?” Erik said.

Emma shook her head, studying him, evidently having drawn some conclusion from his thoughts. “Wow, Erik. I didn’t expect you to start falling in love with him after what, three days? Two and a half?”

Erik blinked. “I’m not falling in love with him,” he said.

Emma gave him an extremely unimpressed look, one brow arched.

“Is he falling in love with me?” Erik asked.

She put her hands on her hips. “I’m not passing notes between you, sugar. This isn’t middle school,” Emma said, walking toward the door.

-------

Emma had seen fit to tell Charles that Erik was falling in love with him.

Really, Emma, Charles replied mildly, I thought that was accepted as a possibility when you set us up. And it’s rather unnecessary reading Erik and then reporting to me. If he knew you told me I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate it. We’d eventually get it sorted ourselves, you know. He sent a gentle but firm “stop helping just now, please” thought to her.

I'm just saying, Emma said, sounding disgruntled, but agreeing not to meddle any further. You know, not everyone would take it as a good sign if someone they went on a blind date with started falling in love with them within three days.

Well, we’re not everyone, Charles said, a little pleased with himself, ignoring Emma’s mental sigh and eyeroll. Thank you again, Emma, he said with a sense of finality but with sincere gratitude as well. He could sense she was mollified, at least a bit.

Then Charles disconnected from her and sat looking at his lunch, smiling to himself and thinking of Erik. No, it wasn’t necessarily worrisome if they were falling in love with each other. It was likely more than simple infatuation or just finding a greater level of mutual understanding than they were used to, although those things were included. The fact that they were both mutants would naturally lead to a stronger bond between them, and then there was the ease of communication between their minds. There was also the physical attraction, and the general chemistry. It all made sense, really.

But then, if he were honest with himself, Charles wasn’t exactly an expert on love. Even the ability to read minds wasn’t necessarily of help there.

Well. Regardless, after Emma’s reporting to him he found himself wanting to say hello to Erik.

-------

Around lunchtime, Erik felt a polite nudge against his mind, not unlike a cat butting its head against a person’s hand for a pet. Erik responded immediately. Hello, Charles, he thought.

Hello, Erik. I’ve been extremely busy today, as I usually am on Mondays and I’m sure you are as well, and I know I’m breaking my little rule but I wanted to thank you for a lovely weekend.

Erik grinned, feeling his face get a little hot. He cleared his throat and tried to resume a semblance of dignity. Charles found this amusing. You’re welcome, Charles. He followed that with an affectedly vague sense of gratitude on his own behalf that didn’t seem to fool Charles one whit.

I’m sure we can work out a time to do something this weekend, if you like.

I would, Erik thought right away.

Good. Charles seemed very pleased, letting his approval and anticipation wash over Erik. Whatever we end up deciding, I look forward to it. Oh, and Erik….

Yes?

A thread of mischief wound through Charles’ thoughts to him. Let’s work on your shielding a bit next time, yes? Can’t have Emma knowing all of our business. And might I add, I find myself feeling the same way you do. As Erik sat surprised (apparently Emma had been passing notes after all), before departing from his mind Charles sent him what was essentially a mental wink, and a goosing for good measure.

The idea of Charles falling in love with him made him a little dizzy, and he needed a moment to sit back and think.

Erik hadn’t gone to the blind date expecting to fall in love, and the last time he’d been in love, he’d been married to Magda, who’d divorced him. That all seemed very far away now; it had for a while, actually, but even moreso now that he’d met Charles. In fact, everything he’d felt for Magda seemed to pale in comparison to what he felt now for Charles.

And things had taken a normal pace with Magda… definitely not so with Charles. If the fallout from his relationship with Magda had been massive, the potential for the damage from a relationship with Charles was immeasurable.

The problem was that except for his wrongheadedness when it came to mutants, Charles was perfect.

That weekend, Charles coached him a bit on shielding over Indian takeout.

“No, it’s good this time, I can’t get in,” Charles told him well into dinner, shaking his head.

Erik nodded, satisfied.

“Well,” Charles amended, “I could if I really, really wanted. But I won’t. I’m fairly sure that will work on Emma. Although I can’t say she’ll be happy.”

“Good.” Erik, his legs over Charles’ lap, picked up the last piece of naan and tore it in half, leaving the other half on the plate. While they’d worked on Erik’s ability to ward off telepathic intrusion, at least as much as was possible (Charles felt he had a natural gift for it, most likely having to do with electromagnetic fields, metals in the body, and the electrical impulses of the brain… something like that), they hadn’t really discussed the event that had prompted it, namely, Emma’s divining that Erik was falling in love with Charles. It was awkward, trying to not think about something you didn’t want to talk about with a telepath. At least he had his rudimentary shielding.

But then, Charles had told him he felt the same way. It still awed him, just the idea of it. Right now, Charles was going on about the documentary they were watching, and Erik was neither bored nor irritated. But neither was he listening closely, because he was distracted by how blue Charles’ eyes were and how red his lips were and how animated he was about whatever he was talking about. The naan finished, Erik sat up and shifted around to kiss him, mid-sentence. He dropped his mental shield, and felt Charles all around him once more, touching his mind and kissing him back.

“Listen, Erik,” Charles said later, draped over Erik on the couch and drowsing, “if you don’t mind my asking, are you seeing other people?”

“You know I’m not,” Erik said, surprised.

“Well, I don’t know for sure,” Charles said, seemingly flustered. “I don’t want to presume. I’m not seeing anyone else,” he added.

“Are you saying you don’t want us to see other people?” Erik teased gently. “After we’ve only known each other for a week?”

“Is that… is that a problem?”

“No.” Erik kissed the top of Charles’ head. “I don’t have much interest in finding anyone else to see, frankly.”

“Oh, good. Me neither.” Charles sent him a general feeling of contentment and relief. He settled in more comfortably. “Listen, next weekend I’m going to visit David and Gabrielle, but the weekend after that I’d like it if you came with me to a little quarterly cocktail hour the genetics department is having, Friday night.”

“Going to show me off?”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t tell anyone about your mutation--”

Erik snorted. “No, I meant -- showing me off as your date.”

“Oh! Well. Naturally. You’ll be my arm candy and everyone will be jealous.”

“Everyone should be jealous of me, with the brilliant and handsome professor,” Erik said, idly stroking his fingers through Charles’ hair, something he enjoyed doing. He tried to make it sound dry, but Charles wasn’t fooled.

“They know me too well to be jealous of you,” Charles said, amused, shifting to kiss Erik’s neck.

-------

Over the next week, Charles texted every now and then with Erik, only saying hello with his ability every now and then, and only reaching out to sense Erik when he had a spare moment to do so. He didn’t want Erik to feel as if Charles were constantly spying on him. All that said, he thought of him often, and got the impression Erik thought of him often as well.

Charles had very little vacation time, and as such, when he went to visit David and Gabrielle he always tried to take the earliest flight on Saturday and the latest flight home on Sunday. It meant he spent Friday evening doing what he would otherwise do on Sunday before work, and that he had no time for anything else, but it was worth it to be able to spend some time with David.

But the weekend was over all too soon.

On Monday, despite how busy he was, he started looking forward to the next weekend, when he’d have Erik with him Friday night.

On Wednesday evening, they managed to make time for dinner at Erik’s, but Charles knew that if he stayed longer and spent the night, he’d be too tempted to call in sick and stay in bed with Erik, and he just couldn’t do that. Well, neither could Erik. They had the weekend, after all.

“I’ll be over at eight on Friday,” he told Erik, and kissed him goodbye. “We’ll share a cab.”

“Should I wear a tux?” Erik asked.

“No, no, just a nice suit. You’ll look gorgeous regardless, you could wear a paper sack if you liked.”

“Perhaps not this time, they do chafe,” Erik answered, with a grin.

-------

Erik decided on a charcoal gray suit and a white shirt, no tie, and black shoes. Simple. Elegant. He chose a black wool overcoat, and a deep maroon scarf -- it was going to be a chilly night.

Charles showed up in a pale blue Oxford under a tweed jacket and brown trousers. “Looking very professorial,” Erik commented, and gave him a kiss.

“And you’re all stubbly, how rakish,” Charles said. He laughed, sounding delighted. “Oh, god, everyone will think you’re a paid escort.”

“You’ll get your money’s worth,” Erik said, arching a brow.

Erik had never really been one for parties, as he found small talk with strangers tiresome, but Charles had wanted him to go…. During the cab ride, Erik suddenly realized that this meant Charles would probably be introducing him to people as his boyfriend, and felt a bit startled. Charles, apparently sensing something, reached for his hand, casting him a questioning look.

“I noticed you seemed distracted,” Charles explained, as a way of saying he hadn’t been seeking in Erik’s mind to any real depth. “Everything all right?”

“Fine.” Erik smiled at him. He was Charles’ boyfriend, after all, they’d established as much. He lowered his voice to avoid the cab driver’s hearing him. “Charles, how many people in your department know you’re a telepath?”

Charles looked surprised. “Well, no one.”

“No one?”

“It would put my career in jeopardy,” Charles said with a shrug, adding quietly, “No one would trust a colleague who could read their mind.” He looked uncomfortable, and lightly squeezed Erik’s hand. “What about you, how many of your colleagues know about your abilities?”

“Just Emma,” Erik said shortly. “I keep it to myself as a matter of strategy, so it can’t be used against me so easily.” If Emma threatened anything, he could out her as a telepath, but with care, since she could know his plans. As it was the question had never come up, but they were at a de facto amicable standoff, of sorts.

“Of course,” Charles said. “Only sensible. I hope you can see that’s not so different from what I do.”

Erik said nothing further. They were quiet the rest of the drive, but Charles still held his hand.

Once they arrived at the hotel near Charles’ university where the party was being held, Erik considered the conversation essentially over, at least for the time being. It obviously wasn’t something they would want to talk about in public.

In the ballroom, Charles scanned the small crowd and said they must be early, and led Erik toward the bar. Erik paused at a table on the way to pore over a selection of tuna, goat cheese, and chickpea crostinis. Charles grinned at him and popped a stuffed mushroom into his mouth, then sauntered to the bar. Erik selected a chickpea crostini, and followed, eating it.

Charles ordered a Manhattan, and Erik, at his elbow, an Old Fashioned. They stood smiling at each other, drinking, when an older woman came up to Charles, smiling knowingly, asking for an introduction.

And thus began the pattern: people coming up to Charles, casting Erik looks ranging from curiosity to surprisingly blatant interest that turned to an air of being impressed once they were introduced, then talking to Charles about genetics. Charles was soaking it up, evidently enjoying every minute. He seemed well-liked by his colleagues, and he was of course very intelligent and able to expound at length on almost any topic discussed, but at the same time Erik never had a strong sense of any of them being truly fond of him, truly good friends.

A tall, gawky young man with glasses and worried blue eyes came over to Charles, who by now had had another Manhattan and who clapped him heartily on the back. “Ah, Hank! Excellent, so glad you’re here.” He turned to Erik. “Erik, this is my TA, Hank McCoy. Lovely boy, very intelligent.”

Hank looked sheepish, and shook Erik’s hand, his ears turning red.

“Hank, this is my boyfriend, Erik. Hank is very interested in learning about mutations,” Charles said enthusiastically. Hank looked around quickly, and swallowed. “He has a very interesting one.” At that, Hank turned beet red, and Charles laughed suddenly. “Your blue eyes, I mean, of course,” he said with a wink. Hank looked both relieved and confused.

An older man nearby turned around. “Dr. Xavier, I’d been meaning to ask you: What exactly is the thesis of your latest work in mutations?” His air wasn’t particularly friendly. Erik narrowed his eyes at the man, who hadn’t seemed to notice him at all.

“Ah, Dr. Foster,” Charles said, mood a bit dampened, though his eyes were still bright. “How kind of you to ask. I’m interested in the more… unusual mutations we’ve seen more and more evidence of lately.” He stopped there, biting his lip briefly, looking deceptively calm before taking a sip of his Manhattan.

“It’s outrageous,” Dr. Foster said. “These... people... are dangerous. I certainly hope your interest entails what we should do to shield ourselves from this imminent threat--” Dr. Foster trailed off as the pen in his pocket slipped out, hovered in the air, and slowly and steadily turned so that the end of it pointed at his face, scant inches from the bridge of his nose. Dr. Foster spluttered. The pen snapped in half, spilled copious ink on Dr. Foster’s shoes, and clattered in pieces to the floor.

“Erik,” Charles said suddenly, “there’s someone over here I’d like you to meet. Dr. Foster, I’m sure there’s seltzer water you can use to clean up,” he called over his shoulder as they walked, Erik following Charles’ quick pace. “Hank, I’ll be in touch!”

“Lovely to meet you,” Erik called to Dr. Foster, with a sharp grin.

They reached an empty corner of the room and stopped. Charles downed the rest of his Manhattan, set the glass aside on a table, and pulled Erik close. “Please,” he hissed, “don’t do anything like that again.”

Erik frowned, confused. “He deserved it.”

“Was that really wise? Someone who obviously hates mutants? He won’t forget that anytime soon.” Charles took a deep breath, glancing over to where Dr. Foster was attempting to mop up ink from his shoes.

“I could have done much worse,” Erik muttered. And that was certainly true. He could have pulled all the iron out of Dr. Foster’s blood, for example. Good luck cleaning that up with seltzer water.

“Oh, I’m sure. Erik, I have to work with these people.” Charles pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and sighed. “All right. It’s fine.” He opened his eyes, and looked intently at Erik. “We were having a nice evening; we can continue to have a nice evening. Just please, don’t do that again.”

Something occurred to Erik. “Can’t you make him forget it happened?”

“I beg your pardon?” Charles’ tone and gaze suddenly went icy.

“Emma can. Can’t you just remove the memory?”

“It’s not ethical.” So Charles could delete memories.

“I'd prefer it if he did remember it -- he'll think twice in the future before being stupid -- but if you think it's such a problem, aren’t you tempted, Charles? Wipe the incident from his memory and from that of anyone else who saw it.”

“I wish you wouldn’t ask that of me, when you know I think it’s wrong,” Charles sighed.

“So you’d rather risk Foster remembering and possibly exacting some sort of… revenge? How is it wrong when it would easily solve the issue?”

“Don’t think you can distract me from the fact that you chose to put us at risk.”

“I doubt there’s much he can really do to us, but it’s surely a risk you can easily eliminate.”

“Erik.” Charles bit his lip, looking away.

“No one would know but us.”

“Erik. I need you to understand something.” Charles stepped very close and said very quietly, “With the things I’m capable of doing, if I don’t practice self-discipline at all times things could get very bad very quickly. Please respect that.” He looked pleadingly at Erik, but there was anger and distress in the way he pressed his lips together.

“I understand what you’re trying to tell me, but I don’t understand you,” Erik said, and shrugged.

“I’m glad you can admit that, at least,” Charles sighed. He raised himself up a bit to kiss Erik’s cheek. “Right, everyone will be wondering where I’ve got off to.” He turned back to the room at large, and Erik, after a moment, followed.

-------

Charles got into the cab with a sigh, well and truly exhausted. After Erik’s little misbehavior, things were quieter, but relatively peaceful. He didn’t see Dr. Foster again. He found himself wondering why he hadn’t deleted the memory of the pen incident from everyone who’d witnessed it; Erik had nearly convinced him. Perhaps he did make a mistake in not doing so, one he’d have to patch up or pay for later anyway. Perhaps one Erik would pay for.

His brooding was interrupted by Erik, who’d been quiet since they’d walked to the cab, shifting to put his head on Charles’ shoulder. Charles sought his hand and held it again. Oh, if he couldn’t stay mad at Erik, this was going to be a problem, he thought with a rueful little laugh.

“What’s funny?” Erik asked, drowsy.

“You,” Charles said. “Me.”

“Hilarious,” Erik said dryly, but he squeezed Charles’ hand.

They went back to Erik’s, and Charles stood in the living room with his hands in his trouser pockets as Erik hung up his scarf and coat and took off his shoes. “D’you want me to go?”

Erik looked up, surprised. “No. Not if you don’t want to.”

Charles nodded. “I’d like to stay.”

“Then… stay.”

They stripped down to their underwear and got in bed. Charles could tell they were both too tired to get up to anything interesting, but sleeping was fine -- sleeping was exactly what he wanted right now. He curled up close behind Erik, an arrangement they’d both come to find pleasing. “Do you know,” Charles said into the dark, half to himself, “I haven’t even known you a month, yet I feel like I’ve always known you.”

“Very romantic, Charles,” Erik said after a pause, but the pause was long enough to tell Charles that Erik felt the same. He put an arm over Erik, and Erik moved to pull it more over him. “I remember you lecturing me our first night that we’d only met that day,” Erik added.

“It didn’t bother you then,” Charles said. “Does it bother you now? That things have happened so fast?”

Erik paused. “The intensity more than the speed,” he finally admitted. “But there’s nothing to be done about it, I suppose.”

Charles chuckled softly, and kissed the back of Erik’s neck. “No need to sound so resigned.”

“Would you prefer it if I said we were meant to be?” Erik asked, amused.

“Isn’t that just putting a more positive spin on the same concept?”

“I suppose it is.”

“Then I do like that better,” Charles decided, pressing his lips to Erik’s skin again. “Goodnight, darling.”

--------

Erik woke up to kisses being pressed down his chest and stomach, his boxers being taken off, and then the feel of Charles slowly taking his cock into his mouth.

I couldn’t help noticing you looked like you could use some attention.

Erik simply groaned in response, both hands going to Charles’ hair. He wasn’t quite fully awake yet, not aware enough to be able to temper his eagerness or slow himself down, but Charles didn’t mind in the slightest, humming encouragement as Erik tugged restlessly at his hair and rocked his hips.

I couldn’t have designed you better, Charles sent him, even his mental voice a little breathless, meaning Erik’s cock, the way he tasted and felt in Charles’ mouth. His lips tight, Charles let Erik fuck his mouth, let him go deep when he came, and did his best to swallow. But he couldn’t quite manage it; when Charles sat up, raking a hand through his damp hair, Erik committed to memory the sight of Charles, pink-cheeked and dazed-eyed, swiping his tongue and then a thumb over the remnants of Erik’s come on his now very red lips.

“Come here,” Erik said, pulling Charles to straddle him. He drew Charles’ cock through his fly and wrapped his hand around it, and watched him arch back, panting softly, thrusting into Erik’s grip, hands clasped behind his neck.

Charles sent him wave after wave of building approval and pleasure and increasing incoherence until he came, and Erik felt it as a pulsing against his own mind, sending a little shiver through him -- or maybe that was himself reacting to the sight of Charles coming all over his hand, his stomach, his spent cock. Maybe there wasn’t really a difference to who was feeling what at a time like this, in the end, or at least it didn’t matter.

He woke up again to Charles sleeping on him, face tucked in against Erik’s shoulder; they were sticky, but that was what showers were for, and why washing machines existed.

Charles muttered in his sleep, pressed a kiss to Erik’s neck, and subsided. Oh well, no sense in trying to get up just yet, if it meant dislodging a sleeping Charles. Erik raised the remote from the bedside table, turned on the TV, and turned the volume down low.

The news was on, and Erik was about to change the channel when he saw the text across the bottom of the screen was asking some question about mutants.

Erik watched for a few moments and gathered that some pompous talking head -- a sweaty, pink man with glasses -- was attempting to warn everyone about the danger of accepting “abnormal” people at work, home, and school. People with unusual features, outside the norm, people who did strange things that no normal human could do.

“How can we tell when we’ve encountered mutants?” the blonde anchorwoman wondered, an especially stupid question given what the talking head had just said, but…. Erik looked at Charles, who could essentially live undetected. He thought of Charles’ sister, who had some sort of unusual natural form, who had to disguise herself in her daily life. And yet Charles didn’t want to take advantage of his natural gifts.

Charles stirred, and raised his head. “I heard you thinking,” he said, voice rough, rubbing a hand over his face. He stifled a yawn. “Not sure what about, but….” He looked at the TV. “Ah.”

“This can only get worse, Charles.”

Charles sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Erik. At least let me have some caffeine first.”

“It will continue happening even if I turn off the TV.”

Charles kissed his neck. “Do you think I don’t know that?” he said, but there was no ire in the words. “Remember, Erik. I can not only detect mutations, I can hear people’s thoughts. I can hear their worries, their fears. I have to exert effort to not hear those things.”

“Then why not help them?”

“What would you have me do? How terrifying would that be, walking along or sitting in a cafe obsessing over what to do about your sudden new abilities and then hearing a stranger’s voice inside your head? They’d think they were going mad. I’ve told you, even mutants don’t appreciate surprise telepathic communication.” There was a forlorn quality to Charles’ voice that made Erik pull him closer.

“I like hearing your voice in my head,” Erik told him. Charles looked at him and smiled, a brilliant smile just for Erik.

“There must be a way to gather them,” Erik continued. “Seek them out, tell them there are others. Join them together.”

Charles sighed, face falling. “You sound as though you’re wanting to build an army.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not a war, Erik.”

“You don’t think they’d wage war on us? That they’re not preparing to? Charles, I’m Jewish, I know what happens to people who are considered different, considered threats. I work at an arms manufacturer-- We could organize.”

“And perpetuate a cycle of pain and death? I won’t be responsible for that.” Charles shifted himself up on his hands and kissed Erik’s forehead. “I won’t risk you, either.” That caused a strange little thump in Erik’s chest. “Come on, let’s shower and you can make me some Belgian waffles in your fancy Belgian waffle maker.”

Erik was hungry, so he let Charles pull him up and out of bed and to the shower. But Charles couldn’t change the subject forever.

-------

Charles always enjoyed watching people use their powers, on the occasions he was privileged enough to be able to do so, which wasn’t often since so many mutants weren’t open about their abilities. He was thrilled to watch Erik do something as simple as make Belgian waffles with minimal use of his hands. He could even sense the temperature of the irons.

“Speaking of metal,” Charles said, licking syrup and butter from his lips, “have we actually put your metal bed to proper use yet?”

Erik stared at him, considering, eyebrows raised. “Depending on what you mean by ‘proper use,’ I suspect we haven’t.”

“I can’t believe us.” Charles shook his head. “Well. What would you like to do to me?”

Erik swallowed, and blinked, looking a bit poleaxed.

“You could chain me to the bed, or attach me with any number of things. You could rub me with metal. You could poke me with metal.” Charles sipped some tea. “I hope you have chains -- wouldn’t you like to bind me up in chains and ravish me?”

Humorously enough, even as he was getting fucked on his back with his wrists bound and magnetized to the headboard above him via the chain, Charles found himself breathlessly telling Erik to let slack into the line and exactly how to do so in the manner best suiting what Charles was going for, letting Charles spread his wrists further apart while still keeping the chain magnetized to the bed, letting Charles get better leverage as he gripped the top of the headboard and thrust back at Erik. The teaching urge was just too strong, apparently.

“Charles, coaching me is completely unnecessary,” Erik gasped. But Charles could tell he enjoyed it. He’d let Charles feel out his mind, let Charles feed him how it felt to be able to pull his wrists apart from each other, not too fast, not too slow.

Charles ignored his protest, and released his grip on the headboard. “Keep me here while you come,” he panted. “Don’t lose control.”

Well of course I won’t lose control, Erik was thinking, doubling his effort to keep Charles exactly where he was, inadvertently letting Charles voyeuristically enjoy his work.

“I’ll make it very good for you if you do,” Charles promised.

Even just judging by the strangled way Erik groaned when he came, they were both successful.

Unfortunately, Charles had a great deal of student writing to review, enough that he’d have to spend the rest of the weekend working on it.

Not long after he’d gotten settled in with his papers, however, Raven called, and as he hadn’t spoken to her in weeks, they ended up chatting. She was planning to fly in and visit soon.

“Oh! Then you can meet the guy I’ve been seeing,” Charles decided.

“Oh my god, Charles.”

“No, really, you want to meet this one. He’s got the same concerns about mutants that you do.”

“And you think it’s a good idea for us to meet each other?” Raven laughed. “Then you’d have two people to argue with.”

“Well, when you put it like that….”

“I’d be happy to meet him, Charles. You sound better than you have in a long time, so if it’s due to him, I'll try not to hound you too much.” She chuckled.

“I do miss you,” Charles sighed, amused. “I miss reading you the inexplicable transitions and conclusions my students come up with.”

“You could always call,” Raven laughed. “I’d let it go to voicemail, though.”

“It’s so much more fun to corner you with them in person,” Charles protested. “When you can’t escape the terrible, terrible writing. Imagine how I feel, I have to read it all.”

“I’ll see you in a month or so, Charles. You and your man. Assuming he’s still putting up with you by then.”

“I expect he will be. I’m too good in the sack.”

“Ew. Stop. I’m hanging up,” Raven said.

“It’s true.”

“Bye, Charles.” He could hear the smile in her voice despite her exasperation. It would be good to finally see her again.

-------

Erik had a planned trip out of town the next weekend to go visit some friends, former colleagues at a company where he’d worked before his current job, but after his divorce. They were mutants, actually -- one could create whirlwhinds, the other could snap from place to place in a flash. Each of them was more cavalier than many about their mutations, considering they could use them to defend themselves -- and furthermore, Azazel was bright red and had a tail, making him one of the mutants who couldn’t hide.

They spent a night out in the woods, camping. Around the fire once the sun had set, beers in hand, they fell into a companionable silence, which Erik broke by saying, “I’ve been seeing someone.”

“Oh, god,” Janos said.

“If you’re actually bothering to tell us,” Azazel said, “it must be serious.”

“He’s a mutant.” Erik just caught himself from telling them what Charles’ mutation was. Charles wouldn’t appreciate that. But luckily Erik hadn’t been drinking enough. “A gorgeous mutant.”

“Almost as gorgeous as I am, no doubt,” Azazel said, with a bright white grin against his red skin.

“Almost,” Erik said.

“What’s his mutation?” Janos asked.

“I don’t think he’d want me to say,” Erik said. “But it’s not a visible one.” They nodded.

They sat quietly for a while and drank, until.... “Erik has a boyfriend, Erik has a boyfriend,” Azazel sing-songed in his deep voice.

“Fuck off,” Erik said affably. Azazel just laughed.

“We’ll get to meet him at some point, I’m sure,” Janos said. “God, I hope so. I’d kill to meet the person who managed to steal your heart,” he added, grinning.

“I had no idea you two were such romantics,” Erik said, dry.

-------

The following Saturday was the next time Charles had a spare day to make time to see Erik. He suggested they go to the French bistro where they’d first met, and Erik readily agreed.

Once there, Charles felt around to see if that server from before, the one with the interesting abilities, was there. He was simply curious. But there was no sign of her presence. When their server, a young ginger man, came to greet them, Charles asked whether the shorter girl with the brown ponytail was working.

Apparently used to men asking after his female coworkers, the young man didn’t bat an eye and said, “Kitty? She got fired.” He shrugged. Charles realized he had a mutation having to do with manipulation of sound waves. The server leaned in, saying to them, “It was actually pretty cool, this woman putting up a sign in the entryway screamed because she was about to fall off a ladder and Kitty like… teleported over,” he gestured, “and broke her fall.”

“And they fired her for that?” Erik said, with controlled anger.

“They fired her because an entire restaurant full of customers saw her vanish from the middle of the floor and got scared, dude,” the server -- Sean -- said.

“They didn’t fully grasp the situation.” Charles sighed.

“To hell with that, they had no business firing her,” Erik said.

“I mean, I hear you,” Sean said, “but I really need to take your order or my manager’s going to ask what’s taking so long.”

Charles, unable to concentrate on the menu, simply got what he’d ordered last time, as did Erik. He was fuming, Charles could see.

“She saved someone from a broken neck, Charles, and that’s the thanks she gets.”

“I know, it’s not right. But it’s just as I said, concealing her powers is for her own safety and security.”

Erik stared at him in astonishment. Well, perhaps that had been the wrong thing to say. “She reacted out of instinct! Are you honestly saying--”

“Erik, please. Let’s talk about this at h-- let’s talk about this later.” He wondered wildly which flat he was thinking of as “home” -- his or Erik’s.

“Fine,” Erik spat, and took a long drink of beer.

They were quiet for most of dinner, and the rather lackluster service from an inexperienced Sean didn’t bother them as much as it might have otherwise. Neither of them felt like dessert.

Although Charles was half expecting Erik to just go back to his by himself, Erik said, “Yours, then?” and Charles, surprised, nodded and shrugged. They walked there together, close, the air between them starting to soften the closer they got.

-------

In Charles’ apartment, as he took off his coat Erik caught a glimpse of an array of picture frames on a long shelf. There was a little boy in one. “David?” he asked Charles, who was hanging up his jacket and arranging his scarf over it.

“Oh, yes,” Charles said, with a smile, stepping over to stand next to Erik. “A few years ago.”

“He has your eyes.” Erik paused, and took out his wallet. “My twins,” he said, pulling out a photograph of them squinting in the sun, Wanda with her red hair and Peter with his light silvery blond. “Can’t believe I didn’t show you this earlier,” he commented, abashed.

Charles took the photograph and smiled at it, with genuine affection, even for children he’d never met. “You must miss them very much,” he said, handing it back.

“I just want them to be safe,” Erik said as he put the photo away. Tucking his wallet back into his pocket, he looked at Charles. “Whatever it takes for their safety. Theirs and ours.”

Charles sighed. “Erik--”

“Charles. As you know, last weekend I met up with friends of mine, mutants. I haven’t told you this, but one of them -- the one with the visible mutation -- is routinely spit on. People throw things at him. It’s a mercy he hasn’t been shot at yet. It might only be a matter of time.”

“Erik, I’m sorry about your--”

“I don’t want our children to have to live in that fear.”

“I don’t either--”

“And that server today. Charles, you essentially blamed her for having an instinctive reaction.”

“No! Erik, that’s not what I---”

“You could go back there, go to that manager and change his mind so he’d give her her job back. But you’re too c--”

“Erik! Erik, please. That’s enough. Can’t we just go to bed?”

“You can’t keep changing the subject, Charles. You can’t seduce me out of arguing with you every time.”

Charles stared at him, speechless.

“You’re a coward, Charles.”

Charles’ eyes widened, his jaw dropping. Erik watched his shock turn to anger, then to fury. Contained, silent fury -- Erik could feel it, like a building storm filling the room. It was like nothing he’d felt before.

“A coward, am I, Erik?” Charles stepped very close, making it clear once again that his shorter stature was irrelevant to his power. “Shall I show you what a coward does?”

Erik said nothing. Although he was wary, at least Charles was finally confronting him head on.

“Come on, then, Erik! You want to see what a coward does? Let me show you. Just nod.” With some trepidation, Erik nodded. “That’s right.”

Suddenly Erik’s body was no longer under his control. He watched himself stepping back, and saw his arm wave, saw a heavy and tall brass vase raise itself from the floor at his -- Charles’ -- command.

“I could use you to smash the vase through the window and kill someone on the street below.” Charles’ voice was low and flat, a tone Erik hadn’t heard before, both outside Erik’s head and in it.

Erik watched from inside his controlled body as his hand waved and the vase zoomed to within an inch of the glass, and stopped.

“I could make you hurt yourself with it.” Unable to move, Erik watched the vase zoom to within a foot of him.

The vase moved to the same position, in front of Charles. “I could make you hurt me.

“If I were a coward, I could disregard everything I believed in, every control I have and use everyone for my own ends. I could destroy the world. Is that what you want me to do? I’m no coward, Erik. You have no idea.”

Charles used him to pull the vase back and set it down. In a snap, Erik felt his body become his own again.

“Get out,” Charles said.

-------

Saturday night was the total silence of Charles’ apartment. Sunday was a bleak slab of a day, when he tried to distract himself by… grading papers.

On Monday after lunch, he finally let himself reach out to Erik again, tentative, wanting some sort of truce, or hell, at least some sort of contact. He was already feeling embarrassed, regretful of his show of temper, but his pride was such that he had taken a while to countenance the idea of apologizing, and after all, Erik hadn’t apologized for calling him a coward, or the other things he said.

But upon reaching out, he found now that where Erik’s mind had been accessible, where a mental door had existed, there now was what amounted to an iron wall with a sign saying KEEP OUT.

-------

On Monday morning, Erik had immediately gone to Emma and asked her to help him keep Charles out of his mind.

Emma had opened her mouth to make a snarky remark, but something in Erik’s face apparently kept her from voicing it.

“Okay, sugar,” she said, as if trying not to startle a wild animal. His temper flared briefly at what seemed like pity from her.

She shook her head. “It’ll take a while, he’s more powerful than I am, but I can help you put up some sort of warning barrier so he’ll know he’s not welcome. If that’s really what you want to do.”

-------

The next week passed in a daze. Charles threw himself into his work, anything to distract himself from the fact that he could no longer feel Erik’s mind, no longer speak to him. He considered going over to his place, but Erik clearly didn’t want him to do that; he considered going out and picking someone up, more than once, but he lost interest in that idea almost immediately every time it came up. Not yet. Besides… no one else was Erik.

He had resigned himself -- well, not truly, he might never actually be able to resign himself to that -- to never hearing from Erik again when he received a terse text from him, asking Charles to meet him at a coffee shop on Saturday afternoon. Not one they’d been to together before, but not far away.

Feeling hopeful, Charles accepted.

Erik was sitting waiting for him, and barely reacted when Charles came in; Charles’ heart sank, his small smile faltering. He automatically reached out for Erik’s mind, then flinched when he met that iron wall and “sign” again.

Impassive, Erik watched him sit down, saying nothing.

“Hello, Erik,” Charles said, mouth dry.

“Charles,” Erik said tersely. “Thank you for meeting me here.” Charles noticed he didn’t have a drink with him; perhaps he’d already finished it.

Charles was reaching a breaking point; the waiting was agony, even as his heart kept sinking at Erik’s demeanor. “Erik,” Charles said, “please, don’t beat around the bush. If you have something to say, say it.”

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” Erik said. He blinked and swallowed, almost imperceptibly.

Charles felt as if he’d been slapped.

“Why?” he asked, stupidly.

“We’re not compatible,” Erik said quickly.

Charles felt ill. The sounds of the coffee shop seemed to increase in loudness. His usual efforts at shielding himself from ambient thoughts and feelings wavered; he winced under the sharp jab of a splitting headache, pinched the bridge of his nose, and realized with horror that his eyes were pricking with tears. He wondered if Erik had chosen a public place with the idea that it would discourage Charles from making a scene.

“You seem completely unwilling to understand what I try to tell you,” Erik continued.

“You called me a coward! You continually challenge my boundaries. You said I always changed the subject and… seduced you out of arguing.”

Over Erik’s shoulder, a dark-haired girl with pretty brown eyes turned in her chair, glanced at Erik and then Charles with sudden interest. Charles gave her a stern glance, and she turned back around, smiling rather cryptically, strange wing tattoos visible on her back. But they weren’t tattoos. A mutant, a girl who could fly.

Charles lowered his voice. “That doesn’t mean we’re not... not compatible. People argue, people lose their tempers--”

“You waste your abilities, Charles.”

“I control my abilities! You’ve no idea--”

“I’m not asking you to ‘destroy the world,’ Charles, as you accused me of doing. I’m asking you to protect your kind.”

“But--”

“Charles, it’s for the best that we stop seeing each other.” There was strain around Erik’s eyes, and he was pale, drawn. Charles felt a tear slip down the side of his nose.

“Erik, you can’t--”

“Please.” Erik stood, and left the shop. Charles sat, staring after him, and then turned to stare blankly at where Erik had been sitting.

The girl with the wings sat down in his place.

“Hey,” she said quietly, sympathetic, “I don’t mean to intrude, but… sorry you had to go through that, in a public place. Getting dumped is rough. You okay?”

He must look a mess. “I’m… fine,” he said, as her words sank in. He’d been dumped. Charles laughed shortly, a watery laugh because he was starting to tear up again. Oh, wonderful.

The girl handed him a napkin from the holder to dab at his eyes, took his free hand from where it lay on the table, and then paused at the easily misinterpreted over-familiarity. “I’m not--”

Charles took a deep breath, and took a risk. I know, he said into her mind. You’re not coming on to me. She looked astonished, confused, but not frightened. I’m like you, I’m a mutant. I’m a telepath and I can detect the mutations of others. I know you can fly.

She nodded slowly, looking awed, a brow arched in interest. Charles sighed in relief.

“Angel,” she said, now shaking his hand.

“Charles Xavier. Pleasure to meet you, Angel.”

-------

From the moment he’d told Charles they should stop seeing each other, everything Erik had said in the coffee shop seemed… off, as if he were saying the words backward, while upside down. As he walked back to his apartment, everything seemed flat and devoid of color.

It wasn’t that Erik felt he was in the wrong -- he didn’t agree with how Charles used his powers, how Charles would rather just passively wait for something bad to happen. It was just that shutting Charles out, walking away from Charles, saying he didn’t want to see him again felt profoundly wrong.

He’d made Charles cry.

He flinched from the idea; it rang in his head, but he couldn’t face the reality of it.

But then, if Charles would have simply listened to him, understood the very real threat instead of losing his temper, none of this would have been necessary.

Charles wasn’t interested in doing those things. He’d rather accuse Erik of wanting him to destroy the world.

Well, Erik thought dully, that was what he got for getting so deeply involved so quickly. He’d predicted this would happen. Potential for damage, indeed.

He’d already been missing Charles and Charles’ voice in his head since their argument, at times having to make himself keep that shield up. Now that he’d completely severed the connection, he felt at sea.

Sunday was dull. You made a mistake, he thought to himself, time and time again. So did he, he countered himself.

“You did what?” Emma said on Monday, folding her arms and staring at him in disbelief. “I mean, I knew it wasn’t a good sign when you wanted to block him, but Erik, honey… Charles can be stubborn and egotistical, but… he’s Charles. I’d almost considered dating him myself.” Knowing he knew how picky she was, Emma paused to let that sink in, and shook her head. “I bet you feel like you’ve kicked a kitten. You’re kind of an idiot.”

“He doesn’t want to help protect us,” Erik protested, but it felt hollow.

“Us who?”

“Mutants.”

“Oh, Erik, not this again. Look. I don’t know if I should be saying all this, but… Charles and I -- we had rough childhoods. His father died when he was little, his stepfather was only interested in the family’s money, his mother turned into an alcoholic who neglected him, and his stepfather and stepbrother… physically abused him.” Emma’s lips thinned.

Erik was silent with shock -- evidently Charles really had just given him a vague idea of his childhood.

Emma looked at him closely. “I see you knew some of that but not all. I’m sure he didn’t want to upset you with all the details, he wouldn’t have those concerns about telling me. We were... comparing notes. Anyway, if anyone would have reason to lash out and be bitter and hateful, it’s Charles. As telepaths, we see the worst in people. I know I have.”

Emma’s mouth twisted in a moue of disgust, and she looked away for a moment. “But Charles is more hopeful than I am. Charles chooses to believe the best of people because he sees that too. Does that make him an idiot? I can’t say. I do know we should all be grateful he controls himself like he does.” Emma took a breath. “I couldn’t help hoping you’d be good for him, Erik. You’d devote yourself to him, he’d dote on you, all that kind of nonsense.”

“You thought we were falling too fast,” Erik reminded her.

Emma shrugged. “I was concerned. It was something like not even three days, Erik.”

“Since when are you concerned about anyone?”

“Look, I’m a misanthrope but there are people I care about from time to time.”

Erik cocked a brow, skeptical.

Emma sighed. “Mutant solidarity? Will you believe that? Anyway, I’ve said about all I can say. Erik, sugar, you need to talk this over with Charles. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

-------

Charles was tempted to spend the next week locked in his apartment doing nothing but sleeping, moping, and listening to sad Italian opera, but not only did he have to work, Raven was coming to visit and he had to clean up and look at least somewhat like his heart hadn’t been completely torn to pieces.

In truth, he was glad to have something to use to at least try and take his mind off Erik. Not that it worked for long. He had texted Angel a few times just to reach out, as she’d asked him to do if he needed, and it had felt good to meet a mutant who was a stranger and forge a connection from scratch that way, but it only helped so much, right now.

His pride had been wounded and he’d been extremely glum when Moira broke off their engagement; he’d been very upset when Gabrielle told him they should get a divorce (being separated from David was a different sort of pain altogether); but of his various romantic entanglements, only Erik breaking up with him made him feel as though he were in real physical pain.

He felt gutted. He couldn’t eat much (he was tempted to get drunk, but scotch, his usual go-to, reminded him of Erik, and red wine just made him sadder), and sleeping was difficult. Hank had asked more than once if he was feeling okay, saying he didn’t look good, with his typical honest but tactless concern.

And the hell of it was, part of him continually wanted to reach out to Erik for comfort, after which impulse he’d immediately remember that he couldn’t, and then he’d feel wretched all over again.

He started longing for the weekend to come, bringing Raven’s arrival. They hadn’t spoken much since she’d last called, and he’d refrained from telling her that the guy he wanted her to meet had broken up with him.

Since he’d be at school when her flight landed, she opted to take a cab and be waiting for him when he got home, as she had a spare key. He was mildly surprised to find her in her natural blue form, with yellow eyes and red hair. It was a bit awkward hugging her in that state, but he appreciated that she felt comfortable enough around him to not disguise herself. He wondered if she’d traveled like that the entire way, but didn’t have the chance to ask.

“Charles!” Arms tight around him, she sounded so happy and relieved to see him that tears pricked his eyes. “Okay. First of all, I have a message for you,” she said, stepping back, keeping her hands on his shoulders. “From my girlfriend. Irene. She’s a mutant, a precog, she calls it: she sees the future.”

“My God.” That was a new mutation on him. He was almost distracted from… oh… Erik.

“I know, right?” Raven grinned. “Actually, she was the one who told me I needed to come see you. She didn’t say exactly why, but she said you’d need to see me, and she wanted to tell you… ‘Hope springs eternal.’”

Charles felt a lump in his throat, those tears stinging his eyes again; but he smiled. “Your girlfriend’s a fortune cookie.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, ruffling his hair.

“That’s not a prediction of the future, though. That’s Alexander Pope, explaining that human beings continue to hope no matter what--” He stopped, and blinked.

Raven gave him another hug. “She told me you’d say that. Also… no offense, but you look terrible.”

-------

With nothing else really to do, Erik threw himself back into his work at the same pace he’d been working when Emma suggested he get laid, all those many… weeks ago. Emma, for her part, really did have nothing further to say on the matter, having washed her hands of Erik and his “foolishness,” she told him.

Janos texted him to ask if that guy he was seeing was keeping Erik in bed too much for him to make time for them to meet him. Typical Janos.

we broke up, he replied.

Ah, Janos said. Sorry

so am I

He dumped you?

no, I broke up with him

Another poor decision made by Erik Lehnsherr…?

Erik waited a few minutes before replying with maybe.

-------

“Have you called him asking if you can try again?” Raven asked over her mug of cocoa.

“Of course not. He broke up with me,” Charles said. “I’m not going to… go begging after him… like a dog.”

“Right. You’re just going to live miserably like a dog.”

Charles sank into the sofa. “Look, if you’re not going to be helpful--”

Raven grinned, and shook her head. “I tried to be helpful. My other suggestion involved me kicking his ass, and you shot that down too.”

He couldn’t help smiling at her. “I suppose I’m lucky to have you and your protective instincts.”

“Well, it’s only fair. You protected me,” she said. “Now I get to protect you. And others of our kind,” she added, sounding pleased with her segue.

Charles sighed and laid facedown on the sofa, the leather muffling his groan.

"It's important, Charles. These attacks are only going to keep happening."

"You sound like him." Charles was aware he was pouting. A little.

"Well, maybe he and I are right."

Charles sighed. "All right, let's say the attacks continue, and get worse. Are we to respond in a manner that provokes further attacks? Makes them fear us?"

Raven was a bit flinty now. She set down her mug. "We're supposed to protect ourselves, Charles. By any means necessary."

"Any means?"

"You don't think they'll use any resource they can to subdue us?"

"We don't know that, and that doesn't excuse--"

"Are you talking to me, or to Erik? I mean, I don't want you to waste these incredible arguments on me--"

“Raven, I don’t think I’ll be talking to him anytime soon. He’s blocked me out of his mind and as I’ve said, any overtures on my part are sure to be rejected.”

“Well, this pity party can only be improved by ordering a pizza.” Raven sighed and got up, no doubt heading for the menu on Charles’ refrigerator door. She paused in front of him. “I’ve never known you to give up this easily before, Charles.”

-------

Paradoxically, despite having taken measures to keep Charles out of his head, Erik found himself piqued at the fact that Charles hadn’t reached out to him. He kept this thought to himself, however.

He told himself he would wait a month -- one month -- and reassess how he felt about Charles. Then, if he felt like it, he’d contact him.

He made it a week and a half before breaking.

-------

Charles received a text on Thursday morning.

charles. can you meet me on saturday at my place

He considered replying with “Who is this?” but of course he hadn’t deleted Erik’s number and couldn’t quite bring himself to respond that way. Heart pounding, he answered instead with I can, Erik, yes.

good. 5 pm, please

Charles stared at his phone for a few minutes, sitting in the staff room. “‘Hope springs eternal,’” he whispered to himself, wry.

Raven had left for home after more hugs and a promise to get Irene to contact him and tell him more about her extremely interesting mutation. She and Irene were, she said, trying to work together in their plans to aid mutants, particularly younger ones.

As Raven said it, Irene had once been frightened of her own power, unsure whom to trust, not trusting of herself either. She was able to see some of the future, but not all of it. She had, however, known she would be meeting Raven, and had been waiting for her ever since she had the vision.

Raven said she’d never been treasured the way Irene treasured her, and that Irene had taught her the true value of a relationship.

Sitting there thinking, Charles was nearly late for his next class.

-------

Erik could admit to himself that he felt trepidation about seeing Charles again. Charles could very well refuse to show, or could berate him. Not that Erik might not deserve it, in part, but it wouldn’t be pleasant. He couldn't dare to let himself hope that things would go well. But something had to happen.

He kept his mind occupied as best he could at work for the rest of the day Thursday and on Friday, and spent Saturday doing errands. He worked himself harder than usual at the gym, not realizing he had been doing so until sweat ran into his eyes, stinging.

At home, he showered and dressed, and then there was nothing to do but wait for Charles. At one point he sat in lotus pose, trying to meditate, when a knock sounded at his door. It was a borderline hesitant knock, and Erik felt a twinge of guilt before he remembered to put up his rudimentary shield as he walked toward the door, using his power to manipulate the lock tumblers and turn the knob.

There was Charles, in his navy blue peacoat, face pink with cold. His hands were in his pockets, his chin high as he looked at Erik, lips pursed ever so slightly: proud. In contrast, his blue eyes were sad, with shadows under them.

Charles swallowed. “Hello, Erik.”

“Come in, Charles,” Erik said. “Can I get you something warm to drink?”

“No, thank you,” Charles said, walking into the entryway and then standing there, hands still in his coat pockets.

“Are you sure?” Erik asked, and closed the door. “You look quite cold.”

“Erik,” Charles burst out, “please stop.”

“Stop what?” Erik asked, palms up.

“You’ve asked me here for a reason. Stop acting as though I’m here on a casual visit. If you’ve got bad news, tell me. Before I take my coat off and make myself comfortable, like a fool.” The sadness in Charles’ eyes sparked into anger.

Erik stood up a little straighter. “I asked you here because I…. I miss you.” He swallowed, mouth dry.

Charles’ posture softened a little. He looked down. “I missed you too,” he said, and looked back up at Erik, holding his gaze. He bit his lip briefly, and then it was as though something that was hanging by a thread broke free.

“I missed you so much, Erik,” he whispered fervently, walking closer, cupping Erik’s face, standing on his toes and pulling him down for a kiss.

In surprise, Erik dropped his shield, and a few moments into the soft, slow, hesitant kiss felt Charles’ own surprise at absently seeking for Erik’s mind out of habit and finding it open to him. Immediately, Charles paused, both in the kiss and in Erik’s mind.

Is this all right?

Yes, yes, it’s all fine, please, I missed you.

Your own fault, Charles rebuked gently, kissing Erik again before he could protest. Erik could feel him smiling, and though he couldn’t get enough of Charles kissing him, he had to pull back and see that smile.

Charles was beaming at him with affection Erik wasn’t sure he deserved, eyes glinting with tears which he blinked away as Erik kissed the corners of his eyes on impulse, lashes brushing his lips, as Erik tasted a hint of salt. Bringing tears to Charles’ eyes, no matter how, shook him in a way he couldn’t explain.

I’m a bit warmer now, Charles said. Let me get out of this coat. Hastily, he unbuttoned it and shed it. Erik hung it up by the little chain at the neck, not taking his eyes off Charles as he did, and then pulled Charles to him again, wordless but for telling him You can come in deeper. If you like.

I don’t want to seek out anything just yet, don’t worry, Charles said. I’ve just… missed your mind, your presence. I’d keep reaching for you, and I couldn’t-- you weren’t there.

I’m sorry, Charles.

Why did you do that? Charles’ face was pressed against his collarbone, arms tight around him, with all his sturdiness holding Erik up instead of the other way around, as one might assume. Did you not trust me?

I thought it would be easier. Erik sighed. It’s not that I don’t trust you.

Easier?

A clean break. So I wouldn’t be tempted to change my mind.

Charles drew back a little. Or so I wouldn’t be able to change it for you.

Erik was quiet. I didn’t really conceptualize it like that, he admitted, truthfully, as he realized how it looked to Charles. It hurt to have Charles pull away, but Erik didn’t move.

Charles’ disappointment was almost palpable. Erik, I wouldn’t have taken over your powers without your consent first. I needed to show you what could happen. You don’t trust me.

“I do trust you,” Erik protested. “You can feel that I trust you. Perhaps you don’t trust yourself.”

Charles extricated himself from Erik’s hold and sat on his couch. Erik sat next to him, but didn’t touch him.

“Charles… how often do you really get to use your powers? Freely, I mean. Do you ever truly exercise them, as if they were muscles? If you haven’t had the opportunity to practice…. You don’t or won’t speak to many people telepathically… do you know the extent of your powers?”

Sighing quietly, Charles sank back into the couch. “I know I am powerful,” he admitted, after a few moments. “Emma says I’m stronger than she is. She was actually very helpful in helping me learn what I might be capable of.” He picked up on Erik’s thoughts. “I see she told you what my childhood was like,” he said.

“She had no malicious intent.”

“I know.”

“It helped me… understand you better.”

“Did it?” Charles reached for his hand.

Erik gave it to him. “You could have told me yourself.’’

“You were angry enough about it as it was.”

“Well, of course, but not at you. I don’t like the idea of you being hurt."

Charles squeezed his hand. You hurt me anyway, he pointed out, wry.

Charles--

“It’s all right. I forgive you. You thought we weren’t compatible.”

“We’re not.”

“We are. Darling, we can fight, we can argue and disagree, but that doesn’t mean we have to be apart.” I don’t want to be apart from you. I want to spend the rest of my life proving to you that we are compatible.

Under Charles’ regard, Erik sat still. There it was on a silver platter. Before he let himself reach out for what he wanted so badly, he closed his eyes and took a breath. He pulled his hand away. “Charles,” he began, haltingly, “if you and I disagree so fundamentally on what is to be done about our brothers and sisters, no, we are not compatible.”

“Well, that’s just it, Erik, I’ve been thinking -- between you and my sister, I think I could come around on that. We could, at the very least, temper each other rather than being so diametrically opposed.”

“How? Charles, don’t come close to giving me what I want and then take it away again, I can’t bear it.”

“So we can’t be apart but we can’t be together? Erik, wouldn’t you rather try to be together?”

“Charles--”

“You asked me here because you missed me, did you not?”

“I did. I do.”

“I can’t think of us as combatants, Erik. But I can’t stand by if you were to -- kill. I don’t want you to carry that on your conscience. I’ve seen the minds of people who’ve killed -- you can’t imagine what they have to deal with, for the rest of their lives.”

“You can’t make that choice for me, Charles.”

“No, my friend, I cannot -- or rather, I can, but I won’t. But I will try the most peaceful path first, every time.”

“They’ve taken the option of peace away from us, Charles. We’re being attacked for what we are. Would you have us simply roll over and die?”

“I would not. But there are other ways besides preemptive strikes.”

“What other ways?”

“Didn’t you say we should organize? We could form a group. Strength in numbers. We can make a more convincing case as a block than as individuals. And if a threat does arise, we’ll be united. At the very least, we’d help people realize they’re not alone. There are frightened young people out there, convinced there’s no one else like them, who can understand them.”

“I thought you didn’t want to reach out to them.”

“I do, now. I have. There was a young woman in the coffee shop, when you-- I reached out to her, with my mind, and we started talking, and now we’re surprisingly close, for such circumstances.”

Before he could stop it, Erik felt a stirring of possessiveness, which Charles laughed at, fondly. I needed comfort, I was vulnerable -- the man I love had just dumped me, after all.

Erik coughed, and Charles continued. “Her name is even Angel, can you imagine? And she can fly. But Erik, think about it, we could even form a… school, I suppose it would be considered.”

“A school. Where?”

“Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it. I was formulating it more as a concept than an actual, physical place-- Oh!” Having some sort of realization, Charles was staring at Erik, eyes wide.

“What is it, Charles?”

“Erik! The mansion where I grew up. It’s empty now. We could use it. It could be a haven -- a safe place for mutants, like a… a boarding school.”

Erik blinked at him. “You’d really want to return there, after what it was like for you?”

“Under these circumstances? Absolutely. Put the place to a positive use, for once. I’m sure Raven would approve.” Charles looked incandescent with the excitement caused by his idea.

“You keep saying ‘we.’ Do you mean ‘we’ as in mutantkind, or you and I?” Erik shifted, uncomfortable.

“Well, both, but of course I envision there being a ‘you and I.’ You don’t want to help?”

“I’m just confirming you really want me involved.”

“Of course I do.” Charles took his hand again. “Erik. I wouldn’t do it without you. It probably wouldn’t have occurred to me if I hadn’t met you.” He turned to kiss Erik’s cheek. “I want you involved in this, and I want you involved with me. Package deal.” Charles paused.

Erik sat looking at Charles. He smiled, wry. “You could go into my mind, make me say yes.”

Charles’ reply was swift and sure. “I don’t have to. It’s what you want. You only need to say it.”

“You said yourself, what you want and it being the best idea are two different concepts. What if it doesn’t work, Charles? What if we can’t make it work?” Erik looked down at their clasped hands.

“We can try. We can spend each day trying.” Please, Erik. I won’t make you say yes but I want this with you.

Erik allowed himself to imagine the opposite of the scenario Charles envisioned and-- no. He couldn’t countenance it. Taking a fortifying breath, he met Charles’ gaze. “Yes, Charles,” he said.

Charles turned, cupping Erik’s face in his hand, and kissed him.

-------

Charles looked around as Erik pulled the car up to the curb. “All right. Here we are-- oh,” he paused and looked down at his phone. “Kitty’s texting me again. Says she has a question about the children.”

“Are they asking if they’re allowed to have ice cream and cookies for dinner?” Erik cut him a look as he put the car into park, and grinned. “Tell them I said no.”

Charles pursed his lips at Erik in mock rebuke, and replied to Kitty’s question, which was about whether it was okay to go forward with the martial arts training she’d planned (yes).

They got out, and Charles stood in the driveway of the nondescript suburban house, looking up at the middle window of the second floor. The roiling psychic energy coming from the girl inside was raw, but stronger than any he’d felt before. She was behind the shears, looking out at them.

Jean, he sent her, as gently as he could. We’re outside. Remember, we’re like you. We’re here to help you.

“I still don’t know why I had to come along,” Erik grumbled at his side. The wariness was pouring off Erik in waves. Charles could tell he was eyeing the cars around them in the cul-de-sac, thinking about using them as weapons if Charles was -- if they were -- in danger. Charles smiled to himself.

“To keep me company, of course,” he said airily. “Even if I hadn’t wanted to bring you, Raven kept insisting.” He added, more seriously, “This girl is extremely powerful, Erik. If it weren’t for the work I’ve been able to do with you all, I might be at a bit of a loss.”

Erik scoffed mildly; although he’d been the one to query Charles about the amount of practice he’d been able to do with his powers, his opinion of Charles’ abilities was flatteringly high.

The girl’s voice was in his head then, tentative at first, nervous and unpracticed. Are… are you the man I heard last week?

Yes, that’s me. I’m glad you remember me. I’m like you, and I’m a teacher. I can help you. The girl’s parents, at a loss for what to do with her, had contacted him, the school having attained fame in certain circles in just the two years it had been open.

Do I have to come with you? She sounded forlorn. My parents don’t want me here, but….

Charles sighed, heart aching. Jean, dear, they just need help. We’re almost at your door, we’ll all talk together so everyone will be more comfortable. All right?

“It’s always eerie, seeing you have conversations I can’t hear,” Erik remarked, close behind him at his elbow, closely observing their surroundings as they approached the front door.

Don’t be jealous, Charles said. Erik scoffed again. And don’t frighten the girl, or she may not come with us, and it’s crucial that she does.

I hardly ever frighten them anymore, Erik protested. I must be losing my touch. Besides, they may as well get used to me. He used his ability to sound the door knocker.

Charles laughed, and stood on his tiptoes to kiss Erik’s cheek. Erik, darling, there’s no getting used to you.