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Fic: Tessellation (12/?) Erik/Charles XMFC (kink meme fill)
Fic: Tessellation (12/?)
Fandom: XMFC (fusion with comic-canon and 1990s animated series)
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Back to chapter 11
Magneto glared across his desk at the two women standing defiantly before him. Mystique he could forgive--she had never held any qualms about standing up to him, and now that she knew about Charles she was more inclined to mock him than fear him--but the sight of Emma Frost, resplendent in white, her head thrown back defiantly and staring him down like he was a common bully was too much to bear.
"Have I not made myself clear?" he said, holding Emma's gaze until she visibly flinched and looked away. Mystique made an exasperated sound.
"It's not like you don't want to see him again, so I don't particularly see what the problem is. We can't find Stryker. We've tried. But maybe with Cerebro Xavier can," she said.
It was not that Magneto didn't see her point--as far as plans went, it was a good one, and since Charles had already offered his assistance, they would hardly need to worry about him refusing. The problem was that Erik had promised not to bring the Brotherhood into Charles' life and this--bringing Emma Frost within a mile of him--would be doing exactly that. There was also the small, petty part of him that wanted to keep Charles all to himself--like the Brotherhood used to be, before it spun out of control and became an entity onto itself.
"We haven't exhausted all of our leads," Magneto said, except that they rather had, and at this point they were growing desperate.
It was entirely possible that had Mystique approached Magneto alone he would have instantly agreed to make the necessary arrangements. Emma Frost complicated things, though. She was a fiercely talented woman--not just as a telepath, but as a business woman as well--but she had her own agenda and Magneto had never been able to divine exactly what that agenda was. Better to keep her as far from Charles as he could manage. It was bad enough the Brotherhood needed her--if they hadn't, Magneto would have killed her years ago.
"Erik," Mystique tried, but at Magneto's sharp look, she faltered. "Magneto, surely this isn't too much to ask. You said he wanted to help."
Had it only been yesterday that Mystique sat across this very desk, a friend and confidant rather than an obstinate subordinate?
"And if Professor Xavier decides to help, it'll be on his terms, and at my request," Magneto said. Mystique looked like she planned on arguing. Emma still stood, statue still, fury warming her usually cold features. He was about to kick them both out when the phone in the centre of his desk rang.
Magneto glanced to it, then back to Emma and Mystique. Only three people in the world had its number, and two of them were standing before him.
"Get out," he told them, and at least Mystique picked up on his reasons for wanting them gone--which, of course, meant Emma knew as well, because unlike Charles she never respected a person's boundaries.
"Get out," he said again, louder this time, more than willing to hurl them out if they didn't cooperate. Fortunately, they seemed to recognize the gravity of his mood, because they left of their own volition. Magneto waited until the door closed firmly behind them to lock it with his power. He reached up to remove his helmet, and then answered the phone.
"Yes, I'll accept the charges," he said automatically, expecting the voice of an operator.
"Awfully kind of you, though I'm afraid entirely unnecessary," came Charles' voice through the line.
He hadn't realized just how miserable he'd been until he heard Charles' voice, Erik's mood shifting instantly. He smiled brightly, pulled his chair toward him by the metal in its legs, and then sat, leaning back while cradling the phone against his cheek.
"Hello, Charles," he said, knowing he sounded entirely too warm; entirely too pleased. He could almost picture Charles' answering smile.
"Hello, Erik," Charles returned just as warmly. Erik scolded himself for not having mustered the courage to call sooner. He was a fool to go so long without hearing Charles' voice.
"Tell me you're coming," he said before he could stop himself. There was no point in prevaricating--he wanted Charles here and, more importantly, he wanted Charles to know it.
The silence on the other end of the line filled Erik with disappointment. His heart sank, even as he began contemplating how he could manage running the Brotherhood from Westchester.
"Actually," Charles finally said, "I'm at the airport." Erik's thoughts ground to a halt. He sat forward intently, genuine smile spreading across his face.
"What time does your flight leave?" he asked, trying to calculate what time it was in New York; thoughts spinning through flight schedules and flight times so that he would know exactly how long he would be forced to wait until he could see Charles again.
There was another long pause. Erik frowned, wondering if it was the connection. A moment later, Charles' voice again filled the line.
"Um, no, I mean I'm at your airport. In Genosha," he said. Erik stood abruptly. He was glad he was alone in his office, because he was certain he must look like a fish, gaping as he was--and apparently even now Charles was still capable of turning him completely on his head.
"I'll send a car," Erik said when he could manage speaking again. He was already pushing the intercom button, calling Rogue into his office.
"Oh. Out of curiosity, how long exactly will that take?" Charles let out a short, depreciating laugh as he asked the question. Erik calculated.
"Thirty minutes, give or take." Across the line, he heard Charles exhale. It was a breathy, shaky sounding thing. When he answered, he sounded hoarse, his voice decidedly pinched.
"If it's all the same, I'll take a cab. The thought of waiting inside the airport for thirty minutes is a little more than I can bear," he said.
Erik couldn't help but laugh, delighted. "I've missed you too, Charles," he said, smug. Charles echoed his laugh, though there was something strained in it that Erik thought might be nervousness.
He wanted to tell Charles not to worry; that this was as new to him as it was to Charles, that together they would find a way to move forward, but it sounded like the sort of thing one said in person, and besides, the sooner Charles caught a cab, the sooner he would be here.
"Go fetch your cab, Charles. Have them bring you to the capitol compound; tell them you are a personal guest of Magneto's and are to be treated as such," Erik said, still smiling.
"Yes, all right. I'll see you shortly then," Charles said. Erik waited until the line filled with dial tone before he hung up the receiver. The frustration of the past few days had vanished and in its place was giddy excitement and something that Erik suspected might be nervous trepidation. In less than an hour, Charles would be here.
~*~
Charles strained forward in his chair to hang up the payphone and then turned to wheel himself back to where Hank and Ms. Carter stood surrounded by bags and boxes. They were watching the conveyor belt for stray pieces they might have missed.
Genosha's airport was a bustling place, filled with all manner of people. Charles couldn't remember the last time he had seen so many obvious mutations. The geneticist in him wanted to stare in awe--to catalogue every deviation, to pull aside each passerby and ask after their abilities. The agoraphobe in him wanted only to be free from this open, crowded place. Already he felt flushed and damp with sweat; his heart had begun to race and his breathing had gone shallow--though he was ridiculously glad Erik had misinterpreted his discomfort. Only the thought of seeing Erik kept him from dissolving into a full blown panic attack, though it was a close thing. Releasing a steady breath through his teeth, Charles forced himself to focus.
"Have we retrieved all our luggage?" he asked.
Hank had found a luggage cart earlier and now began loading their collection of belongings onto its frame. "I'm doing an inventory now."
Bringing the necessary components to build a miniaturized, portable Cerebro had proved more difficult than Charles had imagined. In addition to delaying their departure for almost two days, it had also ensured they were stopped and screened at every airport security checkpoint they'd gone through. Hank, who had objected fiercely to building the Brotherhood anything even remotely approaching Cerebro, had complained loudly each time it had furthered their delay.
Though, to be fair, Charles was lucky he'd managed to convince Hank to come at all.
"I've just spoken with Erik. We're to take a taxi into the city, directly to the capitol compound," Charles said.
Hank glanced up sharply. "A taxi? He's not even going to send a car?" The way he said it, it was as though Erik had done the equivalent of killing six puppies. Charles hadn't expected Hank to warm up to Erik, but they had talked about keeping a civil tongue while they were here as Erik's guests.
"He offered, and I refused. Now, do we have everything?" Charles hated that he'd taking to snipping, but between the flight and the airport and the panic surging in his chest, he was in no frame of mind to argue with Hank.
Hank nodded, chagrined, but he didn't seem particularly happy. Charles suspected that only Ms. Carter's presence kept him from complaining more than he already had.
Outside they found a cab in relatively short order--for which Charles was tremendously glad. He clambered into the backseat immediately and began playing with the fraying edge of his coat's sleeve--absently he was aware of the change in weather, that it was too hot for a coat. It seemed to take an eternity to get their things--and his chair--stowed away, but soon enough they were leaving.
Ms. Carter had climbed into the back after Charles, and now sat primly, hands folded neatly on her lap, watching out the window. Hank had claimed the front seat, and though he was no longer the most obvious mutant in sight--that honour went, coincidentally enough, to their cab driver, who was a brilliant shade of neon green--he still kept his head ducked, an unconscious habit that Charles had hoped he might someday grow out of. Charles turned his gaze away from his companions, turning to stare out his window.
Genosha was a beautiful place; a mountainous island, ringed by steep cliffs and dune-like beaches. The airport sat on elevated lands, so Charles' first sight of Hammer Bay was from above, the city stretched out before him, a sprawling, modern metropolis that took his breath away. Erik had helped create this. It was as awe-inspiring as it was humbling. The anxiety that had manifested in the airport vanished, replaced by an overwhelming sense of admiration and a visceral surge of pride.
The capitol compound sat in the city's centre, its tower overlooking the bay, the Indian Ocean stretched out before it, as serene as it was vast. The taxi pulled to a stop at the bottom of a long line of stairs that seemed carved from one of the island's mountains. Charles grimaced, following the steps with his eyes until he reached the first platform. There stood Erik. He was smiling widely. Charles' heart stuttered painfully in his chest.
It was not often these days that he wished his legs still worked, but right now he did. He wanted so badly to exit the cab and climb the steps to Erik's side; to slide his arms around Erik's waist, press up onto his toes and kiss Erik soundly. Instead Charles waited, patiently, for someone to retrieve his chair.
That someone turned out to be Erik. He was descending the stairs now, but at his gesture the cab's trunk popped open and Charles' chair floated out. Another twist of his hand unfolded it and set the locking mechanism in place. He set it down neatly beside Charles' door.
Charles was smiling widely as he exited the cab. He transferred neatly into his chair and then wheeled himself to the edge of the steps where Erik was waiting.
"Hello," he said.
"Hello."
Erik was wearing his helmet--and, much to Charles' chagrin, his cape--so Charles could not feel the soft press of his mind. He hoped there was some innocuous explanation for the helmet, and that Erik was not wearing it for his benefit alone--he thought not, but seeing Erik had left him too out of sorts to think straight.
In one swift motion, Erik crouched, bringing them eye to eye. He opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he was about to say was lost when Hank and Ms. Carter exited the cab. A frown settled on his face, and he looked questioningly to Charles.
"We're hardly going to build me a Cerebro replica without Hank," Charles said. Surprise flickered across Erik's face, but it quickly vanished, his scowl returning as he glanced in Ms. Carter's direction.
"And the girl?" The word girl was so soaked in jealousy and uncertainty that Charles couldn't help but reach out. He brought his hand to Erik's face, letting his fingers dip beneath the scroll work of his helmet to trace feather-light lines down Erik's cheek. Erik leaned into the touch, eyes stuttering briefly shut.
"My nurse," Charles said. Erik whipped his head up so fast Charles came dangerously close to getting his fingers trapped inside the helmet.
"Are you ill?" he asked, seeming honestly terrified by the prospect.
Charles sighed. He wasn't entirely sure how to go about explaining the need for a nurse--and certainly his paralysis wasn't the only reason he kept her around; that honour went to his at one time almost daily panic attacks.
"Nothing like that, I assure you. She helps me with my daily physio routine, and manages any other complications that crop up. I really only employ her so that I don't have to regularly see a doctor. I'm not particularly fond of them," Charles said. It wasn't entirely the truth, but it was close enough, and until they had a moment for that conversation, Charles didn't particularly feel like sharing more.
Erik's tension eased almost immediately. He was smiling again, relaxing into the man Charles had spent two days travelling cross-state with. "I'm not particularly fond of doctors either," he said, and Charles had seen enough of his mind to understand the reasons for that.
While they had been talking a woman had appeared on the stairs behind them. She stood a few steps above them, waiting patiently for Erik to finish his conversation. Charles was momentarily struck by the two streaks of white in her hair.
"Sorry y'all," she said when it was clear everyone had noticed her.
"Ah, Rogue," Erik said, standing, his shoulders squaring even as his features shifted to neutrality. It was painfully obvious this woman belonged to Erik's Brotherhood. "This is Professor Charles Xavier and his companions, Hank McCoy and..."
"Ms. Linda Carter," Charles supplied.
"If you could arrange rooms for our guests, I would appreciate it."
"Alright, if y'all will just follow me then," Rogue said. She descended the stairs to where Hank had finished unloading the cab and bent down to retrieve the towering pile of boxes.
"Oh, those are terribly heavy," Charles said, but to his surprise Rogue lifted the pile seemingly with ease. A strength mutation then, he marvelled.
Reluctantly, though with surprisingly little complaint, Hank grabbed the rest of their things and began following Rogue up the steps. Ms. Carter quickly fell into step at his side. Charles lingered behind with Erik.
"Are you tired? Or would you be willing to accompany me to my office?" Erik asked.
"By all means," Charles said, earning another of Erik's genuine smiles. Knowing what was coming Charles folded his hands neatly in his lap and let Erik levitate his chair, floating it up the steps and into the capitol compound. Inside, Erik set his chair down softly on smooth, polished marble floors.
"McCoy is obvious, but what is Ms. Carter's mutation?" Erik asked as they walked. Charles, caught up in admiring the splendor of the halls, came to stop when he finally parsed what Erik was asking. Having sensed Charles was no longer at his side Erik stopped too, turned and offered a questioning glance.
"Ms. Carter's not a mutant," Charles said. Erik's eyes grew wide, his face draining of colour. He stepped forward into Charles' space, leaning down to speak directly into Charles' ear.
"She's human?" he asked, incredulous. "You brought a human to Genosha?"
Charles tilted his head. "Is that a problem?"
Erik faltered. "I... I suppose not. Unprecedented, certainly, and probably not something we want to make general knowledge, but... it's fine." It was clear from his tone that it was anything but. Charles felt his earlier good mood vanish. Logically, he knew there were differences between them--that their ideologies were so far divided that any sane person would write off any chance at friendship, let alone something more--but Charles had hoped they would find a way around that; that they would find a way to overcome all the differences between them.
"No, no, I'm sorry," Erik was saying, kneeling now on the floor between Charles' legs. His hands were wrapped around Charles' forearms and his eyes were imploring. Something in Charles broke.
"I was hoping we could have had a few days before that cropped up," Charles said, offering a weak smile.
"It's fine. It was just a surprise, but it'll be fine. I'm sure she's lovely." Charles couldn't help but laugh at that. Ms. Carter was many things--competent, helpful, resourceful--but she was never lovely. Charles said the only thing he could think to say.
"She's in love with Hank."
It was apparently the exact right thing to say, because Erik, after he recovered from his shock--and Charles would forever consider Erik's gobsmacked expression to be endearingly sweet--barked out a genuinely amused laugh.
"She'll be fine," he said, standing. He nodded down the hall, waited for Charles' nod and then set them moving again.
Magneto's office--and it was clear this was not a space Erik would have claimed as his own--was as ostentatious as it was utilitarian. In truth, the seamless merger of the two extremes rather had Charles' head spinning. The room itself was fairly plain, but the furniture was heavy oak and inlaid with elaborate metal scrollwork. Thick magenta coloured drapes hung on either side of the windows and the chair was covered in a plush material of the same colour. Numerous books, most sporting German titles, filled a bookcase that stood against the far wall. The only object on the desk was a single telephone.
Charles followed Erik into the room and parked his chair next to the desk. Erik closed the door behind him, then crossing languidly to perch on the edge of his desk, directly in front of Charles' chair. Had Charles still feeling in his legs, he likely would have felt Erik's heat bleeding into his knees.
"So what do you think of Genosha?" Erik asked even as he reached up to pull the helmet from his head. Charles closed his eyes at the sudden onslaught of Erik that filled his head. It felt like coming home.
Charles considered the question. "Certainly it's beautiful, though I'm hardly here for the sight-seeing." Erik's smile became a smug grin.
"And why exactly are you here, Charles?" he asked.
Charles let his most coy expression settle over his features. "I would think that was fairly obvious."
Erik's grin took on teeth and in one swift motion he was leaning into Charles' space, hands braced on Charles' armrests. "Good," he said before closing the distance between them.
Unlike the last time, Charles was prepared for this kiss. He surged forward to meet Erik, groaning when their lips finally met, his hands coming up to tangle in Erik's hair. Erik gave a surprised, but delighted grunt at the contact, and then opened his mouth to pull Charles' bottom lip between his teeth. He gave a light nip.
And oh, God, Charles had been thinking about this for days--ever since Erik left him in his laneway, alone and aching and wanting. The reality was far better than every fantasy he'd had since that moment, Erik warm against him, the lingering scent of clean sweat and musky spice filling Charles' nose. Charles groaned a second time and opened his mouth, brushing his tongue against Erik's upper lip until Erik released Charles' bottom lip and finally took Charles' tongue into his mouth.
There was a conversation Charles needed to have before they tore each other's clothes off like the wayward teens they weren't, but Charles couldn't seem to remember any of it. All he wanted was to get closer; wanted more until his head spun and he grew dizzy from want. He untangled one of his hands from Erik's hair and brought it to Erik's chest, toying with the clasp of Erik's cape. Erik whimpered--actually whimpered Charles thought frantically--and wrapped an arm around Charles' waist, fingers coming to rest on the boundary between where Charles could feel everything and where Charles could feel nothing.
There was a twisted, ugly scar beneath where Erik's hand rested.
It was enough to sober Charles immediately and he pushed lightly on Erik's chest, tilting his head back until their lips parted ways, a moist string of saliva catching between them. Charles breathed heavily, trying to catch his breath.
"Sorry, I..." Charles tried to say, but Erik shook his head and pressed his index finger against Charles' lips.
"I'm the one who should apologize. That was ungentlemanly of me," he said. Charles couldn't help but shiver upon hearing the shaky, gravely timbre of Erik's voice.
"Trust me, I'm not really complaining." Charles watched, as amused as he was aroused, as Erik's gaze drifted out of focus. He moaned loudly and then pressed their foreheads together.
"But you are travel-weary and likely want to freshen up, so this can wait," he said as he pulled back. "We've been hitting nothing but dead ends, so until we get your Cerebro replica built, I'm afraid we're sitting on our hands. I am going to schedule a strategy meeting for tomorrow morning, so if you're up for it, I'd like you and Hank to be there. In the meantime, I can have Rogue show you to your room."
Charles was momentarily struck by the chill in the room--ridiculous given the temperature outside--when Erik extracted himself and pulled away. He stood unsteadily--oh, God, Charles had done that--and brushed at the creases on his pants before walking towards the room's intercom. Charles tried--and failed--not to notice the outline of Erik's erection. He unconsciously wet his lips.
"There are a few things I need to take care of, but I'll come find you when I'm finished and we can have dinner; possibly squeeze in a game of chess," Erik said. Charles smiled his acceptance, but he seriously doubted they would get around to playing--not when there were far more interesting things Charles wanted to do.
And now that there was several feet of space between them, Charles wasn't sure what to do. He settled on folding his hands and placing them neatly in his lap, watching Erik as Erik watched him. The silence that grew between them was not uncomfortable, only heavy with promise and intention. The knock on Erik's door startled them both.
"Come," Erik said, reaching over his shoulder to flick the lock open. He didn't take his eyes from Charles' face.
It was the girl with the white-striped hair--Rogue Erik had called her, though a quick peak named her Anna-Marie--that entered the room. She glanced between them and then turned to face Erik.
"You rang?"
"Yes. Would you mind showing Charles to his room? And if there is anything he needs, please procure it for him."
A confused frown settled over Rogue's features. Charles was about to seek out the thought that caused it, but too quick she spoke, answering the question.
"Terribly sorry, but I just assumed he'd be staying in your room," she said. "I already had his bags sent up."
Erik's eyes widened. He glanced briefly to Charles, who was trying not to blush, then ran a shaky hand through his hair. He seemed momentarily distracted when he found he wasn't wearing his helmet.
"My apologies, Charles; Rogue here can be a little presumptuous at times," he said.
Charles cleared his throat. "To be fair, it's really not that presumptuous."
In hindsight it was probably a really stupid thing to say, because in addition to earning them a knowing, amused snort from Rogue, it also meant--if the look on Erik's face was any indication--that he was now staying in Erik's room, and while the thought of sharing Erik's bed didn't bother him in the least, it was probably something that ought to have waited until after they had had that conversation Charles had been purposely putting off.
Well, there was no getting out of it now.
The smile Erik gave him was dazzling--so much so that Charles momentarily forgot how to breathe. "Please show Charles to my room," he said, turning to Rogue.
Rogue grinned broadly, tipped her head in Erik's direction, and then gestured for Charles to follow her from the room. Charles spared Erik a single glance. Erik looked back, expression hungry and filled with such promise that Charles once again forgot about all the reasons this might be a bad idea.
On to chapter 13
Fandom: XMFC (fusion with comic-canon and 1990s animated series)
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Back to chapter 11
Magneto glared across his desk at the two women standing defiantly before him. Mystique he could forgive--she had never held any qualms about standing up to him, and now that she knew about Charles she was more inclined to mock him than fear him--but the sight of Emma Frost, resplendent in white, her head thrown back defiantly and staring him down like he was a common bully was too much to bear.
"Have I not made myself clear?" he said, holding Emma's gaze until she visibly flinched and looked away. Mystique made an exasperated sound.
"It's not like you don't want to see him again, so I don't particularly see what the problem is. We can't find Stryker. We've tried. But maybe with Cerebro Xavier can," she said.
It was not that Magneto didn't see her point--as far as plans went, it was a good one, and since Charles had already offered his assistance, they would hardly need to worry about him refusing. The problem was that Erik had promised not to bring the Brotherhood into Charles' life and this--bringing Emma Frost within a mile of him--would be doing exactly that. There was also the small, petty part of him that wanted to keep Charles all to himself--like the Brotherhood used to be, before it spun out of control and became an entity onto itself.
"We haven't exhausted all of our leads," Magneto said, except that they rather had, and at this point they were growing desperate.
It was entirely possible that had Mystique approached Magneto alone he would have instantly agreed to make the necessary arrangements. Emma Frost complicated things, though. She was a fiercely talented woman--not just as a telepath, but as a business woman as well--but she had her own agenda and Magneto had never been able to divine exactly what that agenda was. Better to keep her as far from Charles as he could manage. It was bad enough the Brotherhood needed her--if they hadn't, Magneto would have killed her years ago.
"Erik," Mystique tried, but at Magneto's sharp look, she faltered. "Magneto, surely this isn't too much to ask. You said he wanted to help."
Had it only been yesterday that Mystique sat across this very desk, a friend and confidant rather than an obstinate subordinate?
"And if Professor Xavier decides to help, it'll be on his terms, and at my request," Magneto said. Mystique looked like she planned on arguing. Emma still stood, statue still, fury warming her usually cold features. He was about to kick them both out when the phone in the centre of his desk rang.
Magneto glanced to it, then back to Emma and Mystique. Only three people in the world had its number, and two of them were standing before him.
"Get out," he told them, and at least Mystique picked up on his reasons for wanting them gone--which, of course, meant Emma knew as well, because unlike Charles she never respected a person's boundaries.
"Get out," he said again, louder this time, more than willing to hurl them out if they didn't cooperate. Fortunately, they seemed to recognize the gravity of his mood, because they left of their own volition. Magneto waited until the door closed firmly behind them to lock it with his power. He reached up to remove his helmet, and then answered the phone.
"Yes, I'll accept the charges," he said automatically, expecting the voice of an operator.
"Awfully kind of you, though I'm afraid entirely unnecessary," came Charles' voice through the line.
He hadn't realized just how miserable he'd been until he heard Charles' voice, Erik's mood shifting instantly. He smiled brightly, pulled his chair toward him by the metal in its legs, and then sat, leaning back while cradling the phone against his cheek.
"Hello, Charles," he said, knowing he sounded entirely too warm; entirely too pleased. He could almost picture Charles' answering smile.
"Hello, Erik," Charles returned just as warmly. Erik scolded himself for not having mustered the courage to call sooner. He was a fool to go so long without hearing Charles' voice.
"Tell me you're coming," he said before he could stop himself. There was no point in prevaricating--he wanted Charles here and, more importantly, he wanted Charles to know it.
The silence on the other end of the line filled Erik with disappointment. His heart sank, even as he began contemplating how he could manage running the Brotherhood from Westchester.
"Actually," Charles finally said, "I'm at the airport." Erik's thoughts ground to a halt. He sat forward intently, genuine smile spreading across his face.
"What time does your flight leave?" he asked, trying to calculate what time it was in New York; thoughts spinning through flight schedules and flight times so that he would know exactly how long he would be forced to wait until he could see Charles again.
There was another long pause. Erik frowned, wondering if it was the connection. A moment later, Charles' voice again filled the line.
"Um, no, I mean I'm at your airport. In Genosha," he said. Erik stood abruptly. He was glad he was alone in his office, because he was certain he must look like a fish, gaping as he was--and apparently even now Charles was still capable of turning him completely on his head.
"I'll send a car," Erik said when he could manage speaking again. He was already pushing the intercom button, calling Rogue into his office.
"Oh. Out of curiosity, how long exactly will that take?" Charles let out a short, depreciating laugh as he asked the question. Erik calculated.
"Thirty minutes, give or take." Across the line, he heard Charles exhale. It was a breathy, shaky sounding thing. When he answered, he sounded hoarse, his voice decidedly pinched.
"If it's all the same, I'll take a cab. The thought of waiting inside the airport for thirty minutes is a little more than I can bear," he said.
Erik couldn't help but laugh, delighted. "I've missed you too, Charles," he said, smug. Charles echoed his laugh, though there was something strained in it that Erik thought might be nervousness.
He wanted to tell Charles not to worry; that this was as new to him as it was to Charles, that together they would find a way to move forward, but it sounded like the sort of thing one said in person, and besides, the sooner Charles caught a cab, the sooner he would be here.
"Go fetch your cab, Charles. Have them bring you to the capitol compound; tell them you are a personal guest of Magneto's and are to be treated as such," Erik said, still smiling.
"Yes, all right. I'll see you shortly then," Charles said. Erik waited until the line filled with dial tone before he hung up the receiver. The frustration of the past few days had vanished and in its place was giddy excitement and something that Erik suspected might be nervous trepidation. In less than an hour, Charles would be here.
~*~
Charles strained forward in his chair to hang up the payphone and then turned to wheel himself back to where Hank and Ms. Carter stood surrounded by bags and boxes. They were watching the conveyor belt for stray pieces they might have missed.
Genosha's airport was a bustling place, filled with all manner of people. Charles couldn't remember the last time he had seen so many obvious mutations. The geneticist in him wanted to stare in awe--to catalogue every deviation, to pull aside each passerby and ask after their abilities. The agoraphobe in him wanted only to be free from this open, crowded place. Already he felt flushed and damp with sweat; his heart had begun to race and his breathing had gone shallow--though he was ridiculously glad Erik had misinterpreted his discomfort. Only the thought of seeing Erik kept him from dissolving into a full blown panic attack, though it was a close thing. Releasing a steady breath through his teeth, Charles forced himself to focus.
"Have we retrieved all our luggage?" he asked.
Hank had found a luggage cart earlier and now began loading their collection of belongings onto its frame. "I'm doing an inventory now."
Bringing the necessary components to build a miniaturized, portable Cerebro had proved more difficult than Charles had imagined. In addition to delaying their departure for almost two days, it had also ensured they were stopped and screened at every airport security checkpoint they'd gone through. Hank, who had objected fiercely to building the Brotherhood anything even remotely approaching Cerebro, had complained loudly each time it had furthered their delay.
Though, to be fair, Charles was lucky he'd managed to convince Hank to come at all.
"I've just spoken with Erik. We're to take a taxi into the city, directly to the capitol compound," Charles said.
Hank glanced up sharply. "A taxi? He's not even going to send a car?" The way he said it, it was as though Erik had done the equivalent of killing six puppies. Charles hadn't expected Hank to warm up to Erik, but they had talked about keeping a civil tongue while they were here as Erik's guests.
"He offered, and I refused. Now, do we have everything?" Charles hated that he'd taking to snipping, but between the flight and the airport and the panic surging in his chest, he was in no frame of mind to argue with Hank.
Hank nodded, chagrined, but he didn't seem particularly happy. Charles suspected that only Ms. Carter's presence kept him from complaining more than he already had.
Outside they found a cab in relatively short order--for which Charles was tremendously glad. He clambered into the backseat immediately and began playing with the fraying edge of his coat's sleeve--absently he was aware of the change in weather, that it was too hot for a coat. It seemed to take an eternity to get their things--and his chair--stowed away, but soon enough they were leaving.
Ms. Carter had climbed into the back after Charles, and now sat primly, hands folded neatly on her lap, watching out the window. Hank had claimed the front seat, and though he was no longer the most obvious mutant in sight--that honour went, coincidentally enough, to their cab driver, who was a brilliant shade of neon green--he still kept his head ducked, an unconscious habit that Charles had hoped he might someday grow out of. Charles turned his gaze away from his companions, turning to stare out his window.
Genosha was a beautiful place; a mountainous island, ringed by steep cliffs and dune-like beaches. The airport sat on elevated lands, so Charles' first sight of Hammer Bay was from above, the city stretched out before him, a sprawling, modern metropolis that took his breath away. Erik had helped create this. It was as awe-inspiring as it was humbling. The anxiety that had manifested in the airport vanished, replaced by an overwhelming sense of admiration and a visceral surge of pride.
The capitol compound sat in the city's centre, its tower overlooking the bay, the Indian Ocean stretched out before it, as serene as it was vast. The taxi pulled to a stop at the bottom of a long line of stairs that seemed carved from one of the island's mountains. Charles grimaced, following the steps with his eyes until he reached the first platform. There stood Erik. He was smiling widely. Charles' heart stuttered painfully in his chest.
It was not often these days that he wished his legs still worked, but right now he did. He wanted so badly to exit the cab and climb the steps to Erik's side; to slide his arms around Erik's waist, press up onto his toes and kiss Erik soundly. Instead Charles waited, patiently, for someone to retrieve his chair.
That someone turned out to be Erik. He was descending the stairs now, but at his gesture the cab's trunk popped open and Charles' chair floated out. Another twist of his hand unfolded it and set the locking mechanism in place. He set it down neatly beside Charles' door.
Charles was smiling widely as he exited the cab. He transferred neatly into his chair and then wheeled himself to the edge of the steps where Erik was waiting.
"Hello," he said.
"Hello."
Erik was wearing his helmet--and, much to Charles' chagrin, his cape--so Charles could not feel the soft press of his mind. He hoped there was some innocuous explanation for the helmet, and that Erik was not wearing it for his benefit alone--he thought not, but seeing Erik had left him too out of sorts to think straight.
In one swift motion, Erik crouched, bringing them eye to eye. He opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he was about to say was lost when Hank and Ms. Carter exited the cab. A frown settled on his face, and he looked questioningly to Charles.
"We're hardly going to build me a Cerebro replica without Hank," Charles said. Surprise flickered across Erik's face, but it quickly vanished, his scowl returning as he glanced in Ms. Carter's direction.
"And the girl?" The word girl was so soaked in jealousy and uncertainty that Charles couldn't help but reach out. He brought his hand to Erik's face, letting his fingers dip beneath the scroll work of his helmet to trace feather-light lines down Erik's cheek. Erik leaned into the touch, eyes stuttering briefly shut.
"My nurse," Charles said. Erik whipped his head up so fast Charles came dangerously close to getting his fingers trapped inside the helmet.
"Are you ill?" he asked, seeming honestly terrified by the prospect.
Charles sighed. He wasn't entirely sure how to go about explaining the need for a nurse--and certainly his paralysis wasn't the only reason he kept her around; that honour went to his at one time almost daily panic attacks.
"Nothing like that, I assure you. She helps me with my daily physio routine, and manages any other complications that crop up. I really only employ her so that I don't have to regularly see a doctor. I'm not particularly fond of them," Charles said. It wasn't entirely the truth, but it was close enough, and until they had a moment for that conversation, Charles didn't particularly feel like sharing more.
Erik's tension eased almost immediately. He was smiling again, relaxing into the man Charles had spent two days travelling cross-state with. "I'm not particularly fond of doctors either," he said, and Charles had seen enough of his mind to understand the reasons for that.
While they had been talking a woman had appeared on the stairs behind them. She stood a few steps above them, waiting patiently for Erik to finish his conversation. Charles was momentarily struck by the two streaks of white in her hair.
"Sorry y'all," she said when it was clear everyone had noticed her.
"Ah, Rogue," Erik said, standing, his shoulders squaring even as his features shifted to neutrality. It was painfully obvious this woman belonged to Erik's Brotherhood. "This is Professor Charles Xavier and his companions, Hank McCoy and..."
"Ms. Linda Carter," Charles supplied.
"If you could arrange rooms for our guests, I would appreciate it."
"Alright, if y'all will just follow me then," Rogue said. She descended the stairs to where Hank had finished unloading the cab and bent down to retrieve the towering pile of boxes.
"Oh, those are terribly heavy," Charles said, but to his surprise Rogue lifted the pile seemingly with ease. A strength mutation then, he marvelled.
Reluctantly, though with surprisingly little complaint, Hank grabbed the rest of their things and began following Rogue up the steps. Ms. Carter quickly fell into step at his side. Charles lingered behind with Erik.
"Are you tired? Or would you be willing to accompany me to my office?" Erik asked.
"By all means," Charles said, earning another of Erik's genuine smiles. Knowing what was coming Charles folded his hands neatly in his lap and let Erik levitate his chair, floating it up the steps and into the capitol compound. Inside, Erik set his chair down softly on smooth, polished marble floors.
"McCoy is obvious, but what is Ms. Carter's mutation?" Erik asked as they walked. Charles, caught up in admiring the splendor of the halls, came to stop when he finally parsed what Erik was asking. Having sensed Charles was no longer at his side Erik stopped too, turned and offered a questioning glance.
"Ms. Carter's not a mutant," Charles said. Erik's eyes grew wide, his face draining of colour. He stepped forward into Charles' space, leaning down to speak directly into Charles' ear.
"She's human?" he asked, incredulous. "You brought a human to Genosha?"
Charles tilted his head. "Is that a problem?"
Erik faltered. "I... I suppose not. Unprecedented, certainly, and probably not something we want to make general knowledge, but... it's fine." It was clear from his tone that it was anything but. Charles felt his earlier good mood vanish. Logically, he knew there were differences between them--that their ideologies were so far divided that any sane person would write off any chance at friendship, let alone something more--but Charles had hoped they would find a way around that; that they would find a way to overcome all the differences between them.
"No, no, I'm sorry," Erik was saying, kneeling now on the floor between Charles' legs. His hands were wrapped around Charles' forearms and his eyes were imploring. Something in Charles broke.
"I was hoping we could have had a few days before that cropped up," Charles said, offering a weak smile.
"It's fine. It was just a surprise, but it'll be fine. I'm sure she's lovely." Charles couldn't help but laugh at that. Ms. Carter was many things--competent, helpful, resourceful--but she was never lovely. Charles said the only thing he could think to say.
"She's in love with Hank."
It was apparently the exact right thing to say, because Erik, after he recovered from his shock--and Charles would forever consider Erik's gobsmacked expression to be endearingly sweet--barked out a genuinely amused laugh.
"She'll be fine," he said, standing. He nodded down the hall, waited for Charles' nod and then set them moving again.
Magneto's office--and it was clear this was not a space Erik would have claimed as his own--was as ostentatious as it was utilitarian. In truth, the seamless merger of the two extremes rather had Charles' head spinning. The room itself was fairly plain, but the furniture was heavy oak and inlaid with elaborate metal scrollwork. Thick magenta coloured drapes hung on either side of the windows and the chair was covered in a plush material of the same colour. Numerous books, most sporting German titles, filled a bookcase that stood against the far wall. The only object on the desk was a single telephone.
Charles followed Erik into the room and parked his chair next to the desk. Erik closed the door behind him, then crossing languidly to perch on the edge of his desk, directly in front of Charles' chair. Had Charles still feeling in his legs, he likely would have felt Erik's heat bleeding into his knees.
"So what do you think of Genosha?" Erik asked even as he reached up to pull the helmet from his head. Charles closed his eyes at the sudden onslaught of Erik that filled his head. It felt like coming home.
Charles considered the question. "Certainly it's beautiful, though I'm hardly here for the sight-seeing." Erik's smile became a smug grin.
"And why exactly are you here, Charles?" he asked.
Charles let his most coy expression settle over his features. "I would think that was fairly obvious."
Erik's grin took on teeth and in one swift motion he was leaning into Charles' space, hands braced on Charles' armrests. "Good," he said before closing the distance between them.
Unlike the last time, Charles was prepared for this kiss. He surged forward to meet Erik, groaning when their lips finally met, his hands coming up to tangle in Erik's hair. Erik gave a surprised, but delighted grunt at the contact, and then opened his mouth to pull Charles' bottom lip between his teeth. He gave a light nip.
And oh, God, Charles had been thinking about this for days--ever since Erik left him in his laneway, alone and aching and wanting. The reality was far better than every fantasy he'd had since that moment, Erik warm against him, the lingering scent of clean sweat and musky spice filling Charles' nose. Charles groaned a second time and opened his mouth, brushing his tongue against Erik's upper lip until Erik released Charles' bottom lip and finally took Charles' tongue into his mouth.
There was a conversation Charles needed to have before they tore each other's clothes off like the wayward teens they weren't, but Charles couldn't seem to remember any of it. All he wanted was to get closer; wanted more until his head spun and he grew dizzy from want. He untangled one of his hands from Erik's hair and brought it to Erik's chest, toying with the clasp of Erik's cape. Erik whimpered--actually whimpered Charles thought frantically--and wrapped an arm around Charles' waist, fingers coming to rest on the boundary between where Charles could feel everything and where Charles could feel nothing.
There was a twisted, ugly scar beneath where Erik's hand rested.
It was enough to sober Charles immediately and he pushed lightly on Erik's chest, tilting his head back until their lips parted ways, a moist string of saliva catching between them. Charles breathed heavily, trying to catch his breath.
"Sorry, I..." Charles tried to say, but Erik shook his head and pressed his index finger against Charles' lips.
"I'm the one who should apologize. That was ungentlemanly of me," he said. Charles couldn't help but shiver upon hearing the shaky, gravely timbre of Erik's voice.
"Trust me, I'm not really complaining." Charles watched, as amused as he was aroused, as Erik's gaze drifted out of focus. He moaned loudly and then pressed their foreheads together.
"But you are travel-weary and likely want to freshen up, so this can wait," he said as he pulled back. "We've been hitting nothing but dead ends, so until we get your Cerebro replica built, I'm afraid we're sitting on our hands. I am going to schedule a strategy meeting for tomorrow morning, so if you're up for it, I'd like you and Hank to be there. In the meantime, I can have Rogue show you to your room."
Charles was momentarily struck by the chill in the room--ridiculous given the temperature outside--when Erik extracted himself and pulled away. He stood unsteadily--oh, God, Charles had done that--and brushed at the creases on his pants before walking towards the room's intercom. Charles tried--and failed--not to notice the outline of Erik's erection. He unconsciously wet his lips.
"There are a few things I need to take care of, but I'll come find you when I'm finished and we can have dinner; possibly squeeze in a game of chess," Erik said. Charles smiled his acceptance, but he seriously doubted they would get around to playing--not when there were far more interesting things Charles wanted to do.
And now that there was several feet of space between them, Charles wasn't sure what to do. He settled on folding his hands and placing them neatly in his lap, watching Erik as Erik watched him. The silence that grew between them was not uncomfortable, only heavy with promise and intention. The knock on Erik's door startled them both.
"Come," Erik said, reaching over his shoulder to flick the lock open. He didn't take his eyes from Charles' face.
It was the girl with the white-striped hair--Rogue Erik had called her, though a quick peak named her Anna-Marie--that entered the room. She glanced between them and then turned to face Erik.
"You rang?"
"Yes. Would you mind showing Charles to his room? And if there is anything he needs, please procure it for him."
A confused frown settled over Rogue's features. Charles was about to seek out the thought that caused it, but too quick she spoke, answering the question.
"Terribly sorry, but I just assumed he'd be staying in your room," she said. "I already had his bags sent up."
Erik's eyes widened. He glanced briefly to Charles, who was trying not to blush, then ran a shaky hand through his hair. He seemed momentarily distracted when he found he wasn't wearing his helmet.
"My apologies, Charles; Rogue here can be a little presumptuous at times," he said.
Charles cleared his throat. "To be fair, it's really not that presumptuous."
In hindsight it was probably a really stupid thing to say, because in addition to earning them a knowing, amused snort from Rogue, it also meant--if the look on Erik's face was any indication--that he was now staying in Erik's room, and while the thought of sharing Erik's bed didn't bother him in the least, it was probably something that ought to have waited until after they had had that conversation Charles had been purposely putting off.
Well, there was no getting out of it now.
The smile Erik gave him was dazzling--so much so that Charles momentarily forgot how to breathe. "Please show Charles to my room," he said, turning to Rogue.
Rogue grinned broadly, tipped her head in Erik's direction, and then gestured for Charles to follow her from the room. Charles spared Erik a single glance. Erik looked back, expression hungry and filled with such promise that Charles once again forgot about all the reasons this might be a bad idea.
On to chapter 13
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(Anonymous) 2011-09-18 12:42 am (UTC)(link)no subject
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p.s. I think you mean "clambered" instead of "clamoured" here?--
He clamoured into the backseat immediately and began playing with the fraying edge of his coat's sleeve
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Abyway, glad you're enjoying.