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nekosmuseSo here is the final chapter. I really didn't set out to write a ridiculous, suspend your disbelief rom-com (and if you were hoping this would be anything like my last long XMFC fic, I feel I owe you several apologies). Not that I didn't have a shitload of fun writing this (and that's pretty much what writing fic is all about, so...) but yes, I have no idea where this came from.
That being said, yes, there is a sequel planned, though it won't be quite as ludicrous plot-wise. Actually, scratch that, it will probably be just as ludicrous.
I owe several thanks at this point. First, to the OP (who I believe I scared off some time ago--sorry about that) for the awesome prompt that I rather stopped following after a while (possibly why I scared OP off, actually). Toafrocurl for all her beautiful poetry. I'm still amazed by how well you captured Erik, and how seamlessly your work fit throughout the fic. This was very much a collaborative effort. Another thanks to stlkrchck for all the New York background info, and for acting as my on demand 411 service. To eira_cannaid for the beautiful cover art she made me.
And thanks to everyone following and commenting, because following a WIP can be hard, and this type of fic certainly isn't for everyone, but authors do appreciate it when people take the time to comment, if only so that they don't feel like they're shouting into the void. It's also given me the chance to have some really engaging discussions, which have been thoroughly enjoyable.
I will post a link to the AO3 version when it is up.
~*~
Title: An Ideal Grace (17/17 + Epilogue)
Fandom: XMFC, a modern, non-powered AU
Rating: PG-13
Warning: sickeningly sweet.
Summary: Charles and Erik as university professors. Need I say more?
Back to chapter 16
Erik opened his eyes to find blue irises--startlingly blue irises--staring intently at him. Erik blinked, even as the pair of blue eyes glanced away, Charles' face coming into focus then. He'd ducked his head and was blushing, somewhat furiously Erik couldn't help but note.
Without really meaning to--though what other response could he give--a smile crept onto Erik's face. When Charles caught sight of it he relaxed, sinking into the mattress at Erik's side--and try as he might, Erik couldn't quite believe he was in Charles' bed. Charles offered Erik a sheepish smile.
"I don't usually do that," he said. It took Erik a minute to realize he meant the staring. Erik cleared his throat.
"I don't mind," he said, because Charles could look at him forever--he wished Charles would never look away--if it meant he could have Charles forever.
It was still a little surreal knowing he could have Charles at all.
"Oh," Charles said, sounding surprised, but also pleased, like no one had ever wanted Charles' attention before. Erik couldn't imagine such a thing. It was painfully obvious that everyone before him was an idiot.
Charles was looking at him again, though now his expression was searching, as though he wasn't quite certain how to proceed. It was a strange look after last night, this uncertain hesitance. Certainly Erik had seen it before, but not last night.
Erik's body stilled hummed pleasantly to think about the things they'd done to each other. Things no one had done to him before.
Charles brought up a hand--the one without the splint, and guilt still coiled in Erik's chest to think of it; he had never wanted to hurt Charles--and ran it through his hair. It was an endearingly awkward gesture, nervous fidgeting like Charles wasn't quite sure what to do with his energy. It wasn't the first time Erik had noticed it; Charles tried so hard to contain himself to a single space, and yet anyone with half a brain could see that he was meant to occupy entire rooms. The effort left him bleeding energy, Charles shifting and fidgeting in way that Erik had only ever seen in Raven before meeting him.
And, oh, shit, Raven.
Erik's smile fell. He barely registered the confused expression that settled over Charles' face before he was scrambling from the bed and hunting for his clothes. He found his pants in a tangle on the floor, but his Blackberry wasn't in them, so he began searching for his coat, finding it pooled next to an overstuffed chair that was laden with books--Erik startled to find several poetry texts in the pile, two of which contained his own works.
It only distracted him for a moment, though, and then he was pulling his Blackberry from his pocket and dialing Raven's number, cursing himself for ten times an idiot for having not thought to contact her sooner.
He had never spent the night away without telling her. Never. And given the strain between them and her concern over Erik's recent mood, he suspected having not done so might have been a very bad decision.
She answered after three rings, voice thick with sleep--a good sign, Erik thought, because at least she was sleeping.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm so sorry. I'm fine. I'm fine. Are you okay?" He sounded desperate, he knew--an odd counterpoint to the languor he'd felt upon waking.
It was then that he became aware of Charles on the bed, propped up on one elbow, watching him. He looked confused, though there was an edge of panic simmering beneath the surface that Erik couldn't quite comprehend. Surely Charles hadn't thought he was going to leave, had he?
"Erik?" Raven said, distracting him from the thought. She sounded like she wasn't quite processing thought this early in the morning--and it was early he realized; far too early for Raven.
"Are you all right?" he asked, as slowly and evenly as he could. Raven grunted.
Across the room, Charles relaxed a little. He gave Erik an understanding smile, and then slipped from the bed and padded into the bathroom. Erik was so distracted by the sight of Charles' retreating backside that he missed what Raven had said.
"Sorry, what?" he asked, swallowing heavily, acutely aware that he was standing in the middle of Charles' apartment, without a stitch of clothes, cradling his phone to his ear. He turned towards the windows, relief filling him when he found the shades drawn.
"I said relax. Charles texted me," she said, and Erik spun then, staring at the closed bathroom door like it could answer in Charles' place.
"He did?" he asked, wondering when that had happened. Had it been when he'd gone to use the washroom, or when Charles had popped downstairs to pick up their delivery? Or maybe he'd done so after Erik had fallen asleep, exhausted and giddy with having just reciprocated--three hours too late--Charles' blow job.
Unbidden the thought of Charles beneath him--thrashing and moaning, running careful fingers through Erik's hair--came to him. It took considerable effort to shake the image off and focus on his conversation with Raven.
"Wait, are you still at his place?" Raven was asking, and when Erik didn't answer--distracted again by Charles, who had just poked his head out the door--she added, "and if you are, why the hell are you wasting time talking to me?"
That was a very good question. Without saying goodbye, Erik ended the call and then tossed his phone somewhere in the direction of his jacket. It hit the floor with a rather alarming thud. Erik ignored it. He smiled sheepishly at Charles instead.
"Sorry," he said, and then, because he hoped it might help, added, "I don't usually do that."
Charles' smile widened. He stepped fully out of the bathroom, Erik disappointed to see that he was now wearing a pair of boxer briefs.
"She texted last night to ask if I'd seen you, so I told her you were spending the night. I hope that's all right," Charles said.
It was all right--more than all right--but Erik was too distracted by the line of Charles' hip to do anything other than step forward and reach towards it. Charles stilled as soon as Erik's fingers brushed his side, Erik tracing the ink that still marred Charles' perfect skin.
"Did you read it?" he asked, because Charles had wanted to know what it had said after Erik had wrote it, but twist as he might, Charles hadn't been able to get a good look, and Erik, still overcome by everything that had happened, still a little blindsided by the fact that he'd, on impulse, taken a pen and written verse on Charles' hip, hadn't been able to tell him.
Charles, who seemed a little flustered now that Erik was so close--and Erik would never get tired of that--ducked his head.
"I read it last night," he admitted, though it couldn't have been easy, Erik knew.
"I should have written it backwards," Erik admitted. He'd written it for Charles. It would have made sense to write it so that Charles could read it, even if he'd needed a mirror.
Erik let his finger trace the line of words. It had amused him last night, high on Charles, to write against the curve of Charles' body. A new medium he'd called it, and Charles had laughed and told him he was wonderful and after, when the ink had dried--Erik had made Charles sit perfectly still until it had--they'd kissed, the taste of tzatziki on their tongues.
Erik tugged on the line of Charles' boxers until the whole of the poem was revealed, and found himself reading out loud.
single-celled
evolution
brought you
to me.
genetic mutation
made blue eyes
who took
my heart
my mind
my soul.
proud of all
that made you.
made me.
made us.
Charles, who had gone perfectly still, trembled only slight when Erik was done. Erik flushing then, suddenly embarrassed, but Charles only turned towards him, pressed up onto his toes and kissed Erik with such soft tenderness that Erik was half afraid to reciprocate lest his awkwardness shatter the moment.
The thought lasted only until he registered that Charles had brushed his teeth--something Erik hadn't had a chance to do, and undoubtedly wouldn't unless Charles had a spare toothbrush. He pulled back and feigned a glare.
"That's cheating, you know," he said, but Charles only quirked a smile at him, grabbed his hand, and tugged him towards the bed.
Erik went willingly.
Later, and Erik probably needed to rethink his enthusiasm, because he wasn't used to this, the result of which was that he was wrung out and exhausted and it was only 10am, Charles lay nestled at his side, splinted hand resting on Erik's chest, the fingers that moved shifting against Erik's heart. It still amazed him that he was here--that Charles was here; that Charles looked like he didn't want to be anywhere else.
"I need to ask you something," Erik said, because it had fluttered on the outskirts of their night, and now their morning, and while he was terrified to ask--terrified to know--he needed to know, if only so that he could ensure Charles was protected. He would die before he let anything happen to Charles.
Charles, perhaps sensing the shift in Erik's mood--it had been so light before now--pushed up so that he was resting on an elbow. He caught Erik's eye.
"I need to know what you promised Shaw to get him to agree to an apology," Erik said. He couldn't help the way his voice twisted on Shaw's name. For as much as he'd vanquished the man last night, Erik was still coloured through with his taint.
Charles was looking at him now, expression scrutinizing, as though he was on the verge of figuring out exactly who Shaw was and exactly what he'd done. Erik held his breath, dreading the moment, because undoubtedly Charles would react with revulsion, and then all of this would have been for not.
"Is..." Charles paused, shaking his head. "Erik, is Shaw your ex?" he asked. He sounded only concerned.
The words were probably unnecessary--Erik's tension undoubtedly told the whole story--but Erik still forced himself to say, "Yes," like he wanted Charles to know; like maybe if Charles knew he could reach inside and wipe Erik clean.
"I see," Charles said, and he sounded angry--so very angry. Erik braced himself, even as his arm inadvertently tightened around Charles' waist, wanting to hold Charles to him for as long as he was able.
But instead of pulling away, Charles settled back against him, nuzzling his nose into the underside of Erik's chin.
"I'm glad you punched that son of a bitch in the face, and I'm sorry I made you apologize," he said, which was so far removed from what Erik was expecting that he pulled back, startled. "Also, I didn't promise him anything. I threatened him."
Charles glanced up at him then and Erik was surprised to see a sly smile creeping onto his face.
There were a million things he wanted to ask, but he settled on, "You threatened him?" because people didn't just threaten Sebastian Shaw--well, technically he had, but it was probably going to backfire on him and he'd end up out of a job and begging Charles to come live with him in Germany.
Charles blushed then, looking more than a little sheepish. He coughed.
"I may have been bluffing a little." When Erik didn't immediately grasp his meaning, Charles elaborated. "In the UK, the Poet Laureate is appointed by the Queen, on the recommendation of the Prime Minister, but the process is a little more complicated than that. There's actually a selection committee, but their job isn't just selecting the Poet Laureate; they also monitor them to ensure they continue to best represent England's interests.
"Not that it's anyone's been stripped of Poet Laureate status before--at least, certainly not in recent years--but it could happen."
Erik wasn't entire sure what this had to do with Charles. He said as much.
"Oh," Charles said, like it hadn't occurred to him before now. He flushed a brilliant shade of scarlet. "My uncle is the chairman of that selection committee."
He said it like it had pained him to do so, and Erik flashed back then to the comment Scott Summers had made, the one about Xavier family money. Dear God, he realized; if Charles' relatives were advising England's Queen, what did that make Charles?
"Not that I even really know him. I've only met him a handful of times, and while I'm sure he would be more than happy to help me out, he's not going to strip Shaw of his title just because I ask." He laughed then, a little self-deprecatingly, like the thought was just plain ludicrous.
Erik still didn't know what to say to that, so he said the first thing that came into his head. "I didn't apologize."
Charles glanced up at that, seeming somewhat startled.
"I think I might be blackmailing him now," Erik said with a shrug.
Charles, whose eyes had grown wide, brought a hand to his mouth, even as he let out a huff of a laugh. His hand didn't seem to be enough to contain it, though, because he chuckled again, making the most adorable snorting sound in the process. Against his will, Erik felt a grin spreading across his face. Charles gave him a looking, silently beseeching him not to start. Erik coughed.
"Oh my God," Charles said, and that was it, they both fell over, dissolving first into giggles, then outright hysterics.
Erik couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so hard, or so long. Charles had tears leaking from his eyes. Every time he thought he'd got himself under control, Charles would look at him, and then it would start all over, Erik laughing until he physically hurt from laughing.
"Oh, God, we're going to end up in jail," Charles said at one point, and when Erik replied, "Do you think they'll let us share a cell," Charles hiccuped, and that set Erik off all over again.
In the whole of his life, he had never once laughed over anything concerning Sebastian Shaw. Clearly Charles was otherworldly. There was really no other explanation.
There was, however, a limit to how much laughter the human body was capable of, because after several starts and stops, they eventually got themselves under control, Erik's stomach tense from the effort. Charles' expression grew contemplative.
"Feel like breakfast?" he asked.
Erik smiled, nodding his agreement, which seemed to be enough for Charles, who climbed from the bed, heedless of his nakedness, and meandered into the kitchen.
"I don't have much, but as long as you've no objection to Fruit Loops, I think we can manage," Charles said, pulling a box from the cupboard. It was quite possibly the most ridiculous thing Erik had ever seen, so he chuckled--as much as it physically pained him to do so. It occurred to him, as he watched Charles retrieving a couple of chipped bowls, that there was a good possibility this was actually going to work.
Certainly Erik was willing to put in the effort.
~*~
Raven Interlude
Raven smiled as she re-read the text on her phone. She had no idea what had happened--what had pushed Erik over the edge--but he'd sounded happy when he'd called--beneath his worry and his panic, he'd sounded happy. Raven was in a particularly good mood as she set her phone down on her nightstand and crawled out of bed.
The nice thing about having the apartment to herself, Raven thought as she padded into the kitchen, was how ridiculously easy it was to sleep in when Erik wasn't banging around making an incredible amount of noise--Erik would protest that he was quiet as a mouse, she was sure, but she knew better. It was well past noon and aside from Erik's early morning phone call, nothing had disturbed her slumber.
She was in the process of fixing a bowl of muesli when she heard the tell-tale jingle of Erik's keys. She abandoned her quest for food in favour of meeting him at the door. Erik glanced up--wearing yesterday's clothes she noted--seeming surprised to find her there. Raven offered a grin.
"So..." she began, but in place of embarrassment, or even the blush she was expecting, Erik merely rolled his eyes and headed into the kitchen.
He set about making coffee.
"You're not going to tell me?" she pressed.
Erik chuckled. "Fine, yes, okay. Except it's not what you think because we got it wrong."
Raven wasn't quite sure what to make of that. She frowned. "Wrong?"
Erik turned to face her, leaning against the counter as he did. He was smiling. She caught a brief hint of what could only be a hickey on the juncture between his jaw and his neck--his turtleneck did nothing to cover it--and was about to point it out when Erik answered.
"Charles is a professor."
Raven blinked.
Erik smile had grown particularly smug, and he was looking at Raven like he'd somehow just won a bet. Raven tried to process what she'd just heard.
"A professor?"
"Yes, a professor, not a student."
"But that means..." Raven said.
Erik's grin widened. "Yes, yes it does," he said, which seemed to be about all he was willing to say on the subject, because he started whistling, turning to fetch a pair of mugs from the cupboard.
~*~
Epilogue:
October 21, 2012
Charles woke to an empty bed, which was hardly unusual--Erik was an even earlier riser than he, and he liked to fit in his runs before breakfast--but Charles was rather hoping today might have started a little differently.
He scolded himself for the thought, because it wasn't like they'd even discussed this, so Erik probably had no idea, and what right did Charles have to expect anything from him?
Every right, a voice in the back of his head said--one that sounded suspiciously like Raven, who'd somehow managed to appoint herself Charles' unlicensed, untrained, and mostly unwanted psychiatrist. It was probably Charles fault for spending so much time talking to her about... well, the stuff no one else would ever talk with him about.
He considered then that he should have brought the topic up with Raven, because she would have undoubtedly talked with her brother, and then he would have known and Charles wouldn't be in the middle of freaking out over a stupid date on the calendar, like today meant anything other than another day in a string of very, very good days.
He really was the greediest bastard he knew.
"Just give him the card and don't expect anything," Charles said to the empty room, hoisting himself out of bed and retrieving Erik's card from where Charles had hidden it in the bottom drawer of his dresser--mostly cleaned out now, though Erik had told Charles the space was his and that he needn't share all of his secrets with Erik, not if he didn't want to, so Charles kept a handful of things in there still, like the cue-cards from Erik's Romantic Poetry class, and the ticket stubs from the first movie Erik had ever taken him to, and the receipt from their first official dinner, and a poster from the shark exhibit where Erik had pulled him into a dark alcove and kissed him until his toes had curled.
He smiled fondly at the cast iron mouse--rat, Erik had called it, a lab rat, though Charles thought it far too cute to be a rat--paperweight that Erik had bought him for his office and that Charles had never been able to remove from the house on the off chance that it get lost and then he'd forever be missing the second present--the journal was the first and that was in there too--that Erik had ever bought him.
He grabbed the powder blue envelope lying next to it, tucked it into his bathrobe pocket and sauntered out into the hall.
Raven's door was still closed--it still astounded him how late she slept--so Charles tiptoed past, heading towards the kitchen with the intent of making coffee. It was an unexpected surprise to find Erik standing in the living room, hovering over a box that occupied pretty much the whole of the coffee table.
"I thought you were running," Charles said, crossing the room until he was standing directly in front of Erik, Erik smiling broadly at him even as he swooped down to meet Charles half way for a kiss.
"I thought I'd take the morning off," he said as he pulled back, still looking at Charles like Charles was his most precious possession. Charles would never get tired of the way Erik looked at him.
Charles let that show in his smile, which only served to soften Erik's expression--which was already impossibly soft.
"Besides," Erik said, "I thought you might want to open your anniversary present."
He looked nervous as he said it, but Charles was too busy fighting the swell of emotion the word anniversary had brought to offer reassurances.
"You remembered," he said, because every time he thought he couldn't love this man more, Erik would go and do something so utterly wonderful--so absolutely perfect--that Charles would fall in love all over again.
Erik gave him a little frown. "Of course I remembered. Why wouldn't I remember?" he asked, but in lieu of an answer, Charles could only shake his head.
He reached into his pocket and drew out his card.
"I only got you a card," he said, feeling sheepish then, though he suspected Erik would appreciate what it contained.
Erik smiled broadly, a delighted grin that took over his whole face. He plucked the card from Charles' outstretched hand, slipped a thumb beneath the seal and carefully pulled the envelope open. Charles bit his tongue as he watched Erik pull out the card, stomach twisting nervously as Erik read it. When he had finished, he glanced up, startled.
"I thought you didn't write poetry," he said, staring at Charles like Charles had once again done something miraculous. It was a look Charles was only now getting used to seeing.
"As you can probably see, I don't," Charles said, letting out a self-deprecating laugh even as Erik shook his head.
"This is good, Charles." He brought his hand to Charles' cheek then, stroking his thumb across Charles' cheekbone. Charles could tell by the way his gaze kept dropping to Charles' lips that Erik intended to kiss him, but Charles also knew that that path would only lead them back to bed, and Erik had said something about a present, so Charles pulled back--just enough to remind Erik of the here and now.
Erik shook himself, and the reached for Charles' hand, dragging him around to the sofa so that they could sit, facing the coffee table and Erik's mysterious box.
"That's my present?" Charles asked, because it was rather large.
Erik laughed. "Kind of," he said, gesturing Charles towards the box-cutter Erik had obviously gotten out for exactly this occasion. Charles took it in hand and turned his attention to the box.
It was just an ordinary cardboard box, sealed with packing tape, a couple of this side ups written on the side. There was a square of torn tape where someone had obviously removed the shipping information. Charles threaded out the cutter the moved towards the box.
"Carefully," Erik said when he got there. Charles worried then that Erik had had some sort of animal delivered--but there were no air holes and Charles was fairly certain there was no one in the house particularly interested in caring for a pet--so he put the thought aside.
He took his time breaking through the packing tape, keeping the cutter from dipping into the box as best he could. When he was done, he retracted the blade and set it back down on the coffee table.
He glanced at Erik, who was looking more and more nervous as time went by. Charles took pity on him and opened the box, finding, to his surprise, dozens of wrapped books, all exactly the same shape and size. Charles grabbed one off the top of the pile and tore off its protective sleeve.
He glanced at its cover.
Charles blinked several times before what he was seeing began to make any sense. Erik was hovering next to him, so Charles shot him a glance, eyes wide, even as he felt his bottom lip begin to tremble.
"Was I being presumptuous?" Erik asked. He looked terrified now. Charles shook his head.
"You... You named the collection for me," he finally managed, overwhelmed by the very idea.
It had been hard enough processing that Erik had intended to publish the poetry he'd written for Charles in a collection. The thought had made dizzy--the whole world seeing and knowing everything Erik had ever felt for him. He'd floated high on that for weeks.
To hold that collection in his hand now, his name staring up at him from the cover--The Charles Collection--like Charles was somehow worthy of this honour.
He glanced again to Erik, the sight blurry, and it was some time before Charles registered that that was because he had tears in his eyes.
"Oh, Erik," he said, flinging himself at Erik then, sobbing into Erik's chest even as he clutched Erik's book to his own.
"I'm sorry," Erik said, shushing him, like Charles' crying was anything other than a man overwhelmed at having found such perfect love. Charles drew back smiling and wiped at his eyes.
"You ridiculous, wonderful man," he said. "Every time I think it impossible to love you more, you go and prove me wrong."
Erik smiled at that, like Charles had just handed him the world. His own eyes grew misty, though only for a moment, Erik blinking rapidly until Charles was half convinced he'd imaged the sight.
This time when Erik leaned towards him, Charles surged forward to meet him half way.
Which is exactly where Raven found them, half sprawled across the couch, tongues buried in each other's mouths, Charles still sobbing--somewhat uncontrollably now, but he could hardly be blamed for that--Erik murmuring soothing sounding German things into his mouth.
"Oi!" Raven said, startling them both. "We have a rule about this sort of thing," she said, but when Charles glanced over she was smiling. She'd probably know about the title, the saucy minx.
"Sorry," Erik immediately said, drawing back so that they were sitting once again, side by side, Charles still clutching Erik's book to his chest. He turned to Charles then. "I'm thinking we should probably retire to the bedroom before you read the dedication."
Charles mouth fell open, even as his eyes grew wide.
"Dedication?" he asked. Erik nodded, a little solemnly, but there was an edge of a grin dancing in his eyes.
Charles didn't hesitate. He bolted off the couch, vaulting over the coffee table--box and all--in his quest to reach the bedroom. He heard Erik's amused chuckle as Erik followed behind.
That last thing he heard, before Erik closed the door behind him, was Raven shouting, "For God's sake, keep it down, some of us are trying to eat!"
Not exactly an easy task, when faced with an enthusiastic Erik, but Charles was up for the challenge. First, he had a dedication to read.
My love
My light
My Charles
Thank you.
THE END
That being said, yes, there is a sequel planned, though it won't be quite as ludicrous plot-wise. Actually, scratch that, it will probably be just as ludicrous.
I owe several thanks at this point. First, to the OP (who I believe I scared off some time ago--sorry about that) for the awesome prompt that I rather stopped following after a while (possibly why I scared OP off, actually). To
afrocurl for all her beautiful poetry. I'm still amazed by how well you captured Erik, and how seamlessly your work fit throughout the fic. This was very much a collaborative effort. Another thanks to stlkrchck for all the New York background info, and for acting as my on demand 411 service. To eira_cannaid for the beautiful cover art she made me.And thanks to everyone following and commenting, because following a WIP can be hard, and this type of fic certainly isn't for everyone, but authors do appreciate it when people take the time to comment, if only so that they don't feel like they're shouting into the void. It's also given me the chance to have some really engaging discussions, which have been thoroughly enjoyable.
I will post a link to the AO3 version when it is up.
~*~
Title: An Ideal Grace (17/17 + Epilogue)
Fandom: XMFC, a modern, non-powered AU
Rating: PG-13
Warning: sickeningly sweet.
Summary: Charles and Erik as university professors. Need I say more?
Back to chapter 16
Erik opened his eyes to find blue irises--startlingly blue irises--staring intently at him. Erik blinked, even as the pair of blue eyes glanced away, Charles' face coming into focus then. He'd ducked his head and was blushing, somewhat furiously Erik couldn't help but note.
Without really meaning to--though what other response could he give--a smile crept onto Erik's face. When Charles caught sight of it he relaxed, sinking into the mattress at Erik's side--and try as he might, Erik couldn't quite believe he was in Charles' bed. Charles offered Erik a sheepish smile.
"I don't usually do that," he said. It took Erik a minute to realize he meant the staring. Erik cleared his throat.
"I don't mind," he said, because Charles could look at him forever--he wished Charles would never look away--if it meant he could have Charles forever.
It was still a little surreal knowing he could have Charles at all.
"Oh," Charles said, sounding surprised, but also pleased, like no one had ever wanted Charles' attention before. Erik couldn't imagine such a thing. It was painfully obvious that everyone before him was an idiot.
Charles was looking at him again, though now his expression was searching, as though he wasn't quite certain how to proceed. It was a strange look after last night, this uncertain hesitance. Certainly Erik had seen it before, but not last night.
Erik's body stilled hummed pleasantly to think about the things they'd done to each other. Things no one had done to him before.
Charles brought up a hand--the one without the splint, and guilt still coiled in Erik's chest to think of it; he had never wanted to hurt Charles--and ran it through his hair. It was an endearingly awkward gesture, nervous fidgeting like Charles wasn't quite sure what to do with his energy. It wasn't the first time Erik had noticed it; Charles tried so hard to contain himself to a single space, and yet anyone with half a brain could see that he was meant to occupy entire rooms. The effort left him bleeding energy, Charles shifting and fidgeting in way that Erik had only ever seen in Raven before meeting him.
And, oh, shit, Raven.
Erik's smile fell. He barely registered the confused expression that settled over Charles' face before he was scrambling from the bed and hunting for his clothes. He found his pants in a tangle on the floor, but his Blackberry wasn't in them, so he began searching for his coat, finding it pooled next to an overstuffed chair that was laden with books--Erik startled to find several poetry texts in the pile, two of which contained his own works.
It only distracted him for a moment, though, and then he was pulling his Blackberry from his pocket and dialing Raven's number, cursing himself for ten times an idiot for having not thought to contact her sooner.
He had never spent the night away without telling her. Never. And given the strain between them and her concern over Erik's recent mood, he suspected having not done so might have been a very bad decision.
She answered after three rings, voice thick with sleep--a good sign, Erik thought, because at least she was sleeping.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm so sorry. I'm fine. I'm fine. Are you okay?" He sounded desperate, he knew--an odd counterpoint to the languor he'd felt upon waking.
It was then that he became aware of Charles on the bed, propped up on one elbow, watching him. He looked confused, though there was an edge of panic simmering beneath the surface that Erik couldn't quite comprehend. Surely Charles hadn't thought he was going to leave, had he?
"Erik?" Raven said, distracting him from the thought. She sounded like she wasn't quite processing thought this early in the morning--and it was early he realized; far too early for Raven.
"Are you all right?" he asked, as slowly and evenly as he could. Raven grunted.
Across the room, Charles relaxed a little. He gave Erik an understanding smile, and then slipped from the bed and padded into the bathroom. Erik was so distracted by the sight of Charles' retreating backside that he missed what Raven had said.
"Sorry, what?" he asked, swallowing heavily, acutely aware that he was standing in the middle of Charles' apartment, without a stitch of clothes, cradling his phone to his ear. He turned towards the windows, relief filling him when he found the shades drawn.
"I said relax. Charles texted me," she said, and Erik spun then, staring at the closed bathroom door like it could answer in Charles' place.
"He did?" he asked, wondering when that had happened. Had it been when he'd gone to use the washroom, or when Charles had popped downstairs to pick up their delivery? Or maybe he'd done so after Erik had fallen asleep, exhausted and giddy with having just reciprocated--three hours too late--Charles' blow job.
Unbidden the thought of Charles beneath him--thrashing and moaning, running careful fingers through Erik's hair--came to him. It took considerable effort to shake the image off and focus on his conversation with Raven.
"Wait, are you still at his place?" Raven was asking, and when Erik didn't answer--distracted again by Charles, who had just poked his head out the door--she added, "and if you are, why the hell are you wasting time talking to me?"
That was a very good question. Without saying goodbye, Erik ended the call and then tossed his phone somewhere in the direction of his jacket. It hit the floor with a rather alarming thud. Erik ignored it. He smiled sheepishly at Charles instead.
"Sorry," he said, and then, because he hoped it might help, added, "I don't usually do that."
Charles' smile widened. He stepped fully out of the bathroom, Erik disappointed to see that he was now wearing a pair of boxer briefs.
"She texted last night to ask if I'd seen you, so I told her you were spending the night. I hope that's all right," Charles said.
It was all right--more than all right--but Erik was too distracted by the line of Charles' hip to do anything other than step forward and reach towards it. Charles stilled as soon as Erik's fingers brushed his side, Erik tracing the ink that still marred Charles' perfect skin.
"Did you read it?" he asked, because Charles had wanted to know what it had said after Erik had wrote it, but twist as he might, Charles hadn't been able to get a good look, and Erik, still overcome by everything that had happened, still a little blindsided by the fact that he'd, on impulse, taken a pen and written verse on Charles' hip, hadn't been able to tell him.
Charles, who seemed a little flustered now that Erik was so close--and Erik would never get tired of that--ducked his head.
"I read it last night," he admitted, though it couldn't have been easy, Erik knew.
"I should have written it backwards," Erik admitted. He'd written it for Charles. It would have made sense to write it so that Charles could read it, even if he'd needed a mirror.
Erik let his finger trace the line of words. It had amused him last night, high on Charles, to write against the curve of Charles' body. A new medium he'd called it, and Charles had laughed and told him he was wonderful and after, when the ink had dried--Erik had made Charles sit perfectly still until it had--they'd kissed, the taste of tzatziki on their tongues.
Erik tugged on the line of Charles' boxers until the whole of the poem was revealed, and found himself reading out loud.
single-celled
evolution
brought you
to me.
genetic mutation
made blue eyes
who took
my heart
my mind
my soul.
proud of all
that made you.
made me.
made us.
Charles, who had gone perfectly still, trembled only slight when Erik was done. Erik flushing then, suddenly embarrassed, but Charles only turned towards him, pressed up onto his toes and kissed Erik with such soft tenderness that Erik was half afraid to reciprocate lest his awkwardness shatter the moment.
The thought lasted only until he registered that Charles had brushed his teeth--something Erik hadn't had a chance to do, and undoubtedly wouldn't unless Charles had a spare toothbrush. He pulled back and feigned a glare.
"That's cheating, you know," he said, but Charles only quirked a smile at him, grabbed his hand, and tugged him towards the bed.
Erik went willingly.
Later, and Erik probably needed to rethink his enthusiasm, because he wasn't used to this, the result of which was that he was wrung out and exhausted and it was only 10am, Charles lay nestled at his side, splinted hand resting on Erik's chest, the fingers that moved shifting against Erik's heart. It still amazed him that he was here--that Charles was here; that Charles looked like he didn't want to be anywhere else.
"I need to ask you something," Erik said, because it had fluttered on the outskirts of their night, and now their morning, and while he was terrified to ask--terrified to know--he needed to know, if only so that he could ensure Charles was protected. He would die before he let anything happen to Charles.
Charles, perhaps sensing the shift in Erik's mood--it had been so light before now--pushed up so that he was resting on an elbow. He caught Erik's eye.
"I need to know what you promised Shaw to get him to agree to an apology," Erik said. He couldn't help the way his voice twisted on Shaw's name. For as much as he'd vanquished the man last night, Erik was still coloured through with his taint.
Charles was looking at him now, expression scrutinizing, as though he was on the verge of figuring out exactly who Shaw was and exactly what he'd done. Erik held his breath, dreading the moment, because undoubtedly Charles would react with revulsion, and then all of this would have been for not.
"Is..." Charles paused, shaking his head. "Erik, is Shaw your ex?" he asked. He sounded only concerned.
The words were probably unnecessary--Erik's tension undoubtedly told the whole story--but Erik still forced himself to say, "Yes," like he wanted Charles to know; like maybe if Charles knew he could reach inside and wipe Erik clean.
"I see," Charles said, and he sounded angry--so very angry. Erik braced himself, even as his arm inadvertently tightened around Charles' waist, wanting to hold Charles to him for as long as he was able.
But instead of pulling away, Charles settled back against him, nuzzling his nose into the underside of Erik's chin.
"I'm glad you punched that son of a bitch in the face, and I'm sorry I made you apologize," he said, which was so far removed from what Erik was expecting that he pulled back, startled. "Also, I didn't promise him anything. I threatened him."
Charles glanced up at him then and Erik was surprised to see a sly smile creeping onto his face.
There were a million things he wanted to ask, but he settled on, "You threatened him?" because people didn't just threaten Sebastian Shaw--well, technically he had, but it was probably going to backfire on him and he'd end up out of a job and begging Charles to come live with him in Germany.
Charles blushed then, looking more than a little sheepish. He coughed.
"I may have been bluffing a little." When Erik didn't immediately grasp his meaning, Charles elaborated. "In the UK, the Poet Laureate is appointed by the Queen, on the recommendation of the Prime Minister, but the process is a little more complicated than that. There's actually a selection committee, but their job isn't just selecting the Poet Laureate; they also monitor them to ensure they continue to best represent England's interests.
"Not that it's anyone's been stripped of Poet Laureate status before--at least, certainly not in recent years--but it could happen."
Erik wasn't entire sure what this had to do with Charles. He said as much.
"Oh," Charles said, like it hadn't occurred to him before now. He flushed a brilliant shade of scarlet. "My uncle is the chairman of that selection committee."
He said it like it had pained him to do so, and Erik flashed back then to the comment Scott Summers had made, the one about Xavier family money. Dear God, he realized; if Charles' relatives were advising England's Queen, what did that make Charles?
"Not that I even really know him. I've only met him a handful of times, and while I'm sure he would be more than happy to help me out, he's not going to strip Shaw of his title just because I ask." He laughed then, a little self-deprecatingly, like the thought was just plain ludicrous.
Erik still didn't know what to say to that, so he said the first thing that came into his head. "I didn't apologize."
Charles glanced up at that, seeming somewhat startled.
"I think I might be blackmailing him now," Erik said with a shrug.
Charles, whose eyes had grown wide, brought a hand to his mouth, even as he let out a huff of a laugh. His hand didn't seem to be enough to contain it, though, because he chuckled again, making the most adorable snorting sound in the process. Against his will, Erik felt a grin spreading across his face. Charles gave him a looking, silently beseeching him not to start. Erik coughed.
"Oh my God," Charles said, and that was it, they both fell over, dissolving first into giggles, then outright hysterics.
Erik couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so hard, or so long. Charles had tears leaking from his eyes. Every time he thought he'd got himself under control, Charles would look at him, and then it would start all over, Erik laughing until he physically hurt from laughing.
"Oh, God, we're going to end up in jail," Charles said at one point, and when Erik replied, "Do you think they'll let us share a cell," Charles hiccuped, and that set Erik off all over again.
In the whole of his life, he had never once laughed over anything concerning Sebastian Shaw. Clearly Charles was otherworldly. There was really no other explanation.
There was, however, a limit to how much laughter the human body was capable of, because after several starts and stops, they eventually got themselves under control, Erik's stomach tense from the effort. Charles' expression grew contemplative.
"Feel like breakfast?" he asked.
Erik smiled, nodding his agreement, which seemed to be enough for Charles, who climbed from the bed, heedless of his nakedness, and meandered into the kitchen.
"I don't have much, but as long as you've no objection to Fruit Loops, I think we can manage," Charles said, pulling a box from the cupboard. It was quite possibly the most ridiculous thing Erik had ever seen, so he chuckled--as much as it physically pained him to do so. It occurred to him, as he watched Charles retrieving a couple of chipped bowls, that there was a good possibility this was actually going to work.
Certainly Erik was willing to put in the effort.
~*~
Raven Interlude
Raven smiled as she re-read the text on her phone. She had no idea what had happened--what had pushed Erik over the edge--but he'd sounded happy when he'd called--beneath his worry and his panic, he'd sounded happy. Raven was in a particularly good mood as she set her phone down on her nightstand and crawled out of bed.
The nice thing about having the apartment to herself, Raven thought as she padded into the kitchen, was how ridiculously easy it was to sleep in when Erik wasn't banging around making an incredible amount of noise--Erik would protest that he was quiet as a mouse, she was sure, but she knew better. It was well past noon and aside from Erik's early morning phone call, nothing had disturbed her slumber.
She was in the process of fixing a bowl of muesli when she heard the tell-tale jingle of Erik's keys. She abandoned her quest for food in favour of meeting him at the door. Erik glanced up--wearing yesterday's clothes she noted--seeming surprised to find her there. Raven offered a grin.
"So..." she began, but in place of embarrassment, or even the blush she was expecting, Erik merely rolled his eyes and headed into the kitchen.
He set about making coffee.
"You're not going to tell me?" she pressed.
Erik chuckled. "Fine, yes, okay. Except it's not what you think because we got it wrong."
Raven wasn't quite sure what to make of that. She frowned. "Wrong?"
Erik turned to face her, leaning against the counter as he did. He was smiling. She caught a brief hint of what could only be a hickey on the juncture between his jaw and his neck--his turtleneck did nothing to cover it--and was about to point it out when Erik answered.
"Charles is a professor."
Raven blinked.
Erik smile had grown particularly smug, and he was looking at Raven like he'd somehow just won a bet. Raven tried to process what she'd just heard.
"A professor?"
"Yes, a professor, not a student."
"But that means..." Raven said.
Erik's grin widened. "Yes, yes it does," he said, which seemed to be about all he was willing to say on the subject, because he started whistling, turning to fetch a pair of mugs from the cupboard.
~*~
Epilogue:
October 21, 2012
Charles woke to an empty bed, which was hardly unusual--Erik was an even earlier riser than he, and he liked to fit in his runs before breakfast--but Charles was rather hoping today might have started a little differently.
He scolded himself for the thought, because it wasn't like they'd even discussed this, so Erik probably had no idea, and what right did Charles have to expect anything from him?
Every right, a voice in the back of his head said--one that sounded suspiciously like Raven, who'd somehow managed to appoint herself Charles' unlicensed, untrained, and mostly unwanted psychiatrist. It was probably Charles fault for spending so much time talking to her about... well, the stuff no one else would ever talk with him about.
He considered then that he should have brought the topic up with Raven, because she would have undoubtedly talked with her brother, and then he would have known and Charles wouldn't be in the middle of freaking out over a stupid date on the calendar, like today meant anything other than another day in a string of very, very good days.
He really was the greediest bastard he knew.
"Just give him the card and don't expect anything," Charles said to the empty room, hoisting himself out of bed and retrieving Erik's card from where Charles had hidden it in the bottom drawer of his dresser--mostly cleaned out now, though Erik had told Charles the space was his and that he needn't share all of his secrets with Erik, not if he didn't want to, so Charles kept a handful of things in there still, like the cue-cards from Erik's Romantic Poetry class, and the ticket stubs from the first movie Erik had ever taken him to, and the receipt from their first official dinner, and a poster from the shark exhibit where Erik had pulled him into a dark alcove and kissed him until his toes had curled.
He smiled fondly at the cast iron mouse--rat, Erik had called it, a lab rat, though Charles thought it far too cute to be a rat--paperweight that Erik had bought him for his office and that Charles had never been able to remove from the house on the off chance that it get lost and then he'd forever be missing the second present--the journal was the first and that was in there too--that Erik had ever bought him.
He grabbed the powder blue envelope lying next to it, tucked it into his bathrobe pocket and sauntered out into the hall.
Raven's door was still closed--it still astounded him how late she slept--so Charles tiptoed past, heading towards the kitchen with the intent of making coffee. It was an unexpected surprise to find Erik standing in the living room, hovering over a box that occupied pretty much the whole of the coffee table.
"I thought you were running," Charles said, crossing the room until he was standing directly in front of Erik, Erik smiling broadly at him even as he swooped down to meet Charles half way for a kiss.
"I thought I'd take the morning off," he said as he pulled back, still looking at Charles like Charles was his most precious possession. Charles would never get tired of the way Erik looked at him.
Charles let that show in his smile, which only served to soften Erik's expression--which was already impossibly soft.
"Besides," Erik said, "I thought you might want to open your anniversary present."
He looked nervous as he said it, but Charles was too busy fighting the swell of emotion the word anniversary had brought to offer reassurances.
"You remembered," he said, because every time he thought he couldn't love this man more, Erik would go and do something so utterly wonderful--so absolutely perfect--that Charles would fall in love all over again.
Erik gave him a little frown. "Of course I remembered. Why wouldn't I remember?" he asked, but in lieu of an answer, Charles could only shake his head.
He reached into his pocket and drew out his card.
"I only got you a card," he said, feeling sheepish then, though he suspected Erik would appreciate what it contained.
Erik smiled broadly, a delighted grin that took over his whole face. He plucked the card from Charles' outstretched hand, slipped a thumb beneath the seal and carefully pulled the envelope open. Charles bit his tongue as he watched Erik pull out the card, stomach twisting nervously as Erik read it. When he had finished, he glanced up, startled.
"I thought you didn't write poetry," he said, staring at Charles like Charles had once again done something miraculous. It was a look Charles was only now getting used to seeing.
"As you can probably see, I don't," Charles said, letting out a self-deprecating laugh even as Erik shook his head.
"This is good, Charles." He brought his hand to Charles' cheek then, stroking his thumb across Charles' cheekbone. Charles could tell by the way his gaze kept dropping to Charles' lips that Erik intended to kiss him, but Charles also knew that that path would only lead them back to bed, and Erik had said something about a present, so Charles pulled back--just enough to remind Erik of the here and now.
Erik shook himself, and the reached for Charles' hand, dragging him around to the sofa so that they could sit, facing the coffee table and Erik's mysterious box.
"That's my present?" Charles asked, because it was rather large.
Erik laughed. "Kind of," he said, gesturing Charles towards the box-cutter Erik had obviously gotten out for exactly this occasion. Charles took it in hand and turned his attention to the box.
It was just an ordinary cardboard box, sealed with packing tape, a couple of this side ups written on the side. There was a square of torn tape where someone had obviously removed the shipping information. Charles threaded out the cutter the moved towards the box.
"Carefully," Erik said when he got there. Charles worried then that Erik had had some sort of animal delivered--but there were no air holes and Charles was fairly certain there was no one in the house particularly interested in caring for a pet--so he put the thought aside.
He took his time breaking through the packing tape, keeping the cutter from dipping into the box as best he could. When he was done, he retracted the blade and set it back down on the coffee table.
He glanced at Erik, who was looking more and more nervous as time went by. Charles took pity on him and opened the box, finding, to his surprise, dozens of wrapped books, all exactly the same shape and size. Charles grabbed one off the top of the pile and tore off its protective sleeve.
He glanced at its cover.
Charles blinked several times before what he was seeing began to make any sense. Erik was hovering next to him, so Charles shot him a glance, eyes wide, even as he felt his bottom lip begin to tremble.
"Was I being presumptuous?" Erik asked. He looked terrified now. Charles shook his head.
"You... You named the collection for me," he finally managed, overwhelmed by the very idea.
It had been hard enough processing that Erik had intended to publish the poetry he'd written for Charles in a collection. The thought had made dizzy--the whole world seeing and knowing everything Erik had ever felt for him. He'd floated high on that for weeks.
To hold that collection in his hand now, his name staring up at him from the cover--The Charles Collection--like Charles was somehow worthy of this honour.
He glanced again to Erik, the sight blurry, and it was some time before Charles registered that that was because he had tears in his eyes.
"Oh, Erik," he said, flinging himself at Erik then, sobbing into Erik's chest even as he clutched Erik's book to his own.
"I'm sorry," Erik said, shushing him, like Charles' crying was anything other than a man overwhelmed at having found such perfect love. Charles drew back smiling and wiped at his eyes.
"You ridiculous, wonderful man," he said. "Every time I think it impossible to love you more, you go and prove me wrong."
Erik smiled at that, like Charles had just handed him the world. His own eyes grew misty, though only for a moment, Erik blinking rapidly until Charles was half convinced he'd imaged the sight.
This time when Erik leaned towards him, Charles surged forward to meet him half way.
Which is exactly where Raven found them, half sprawled across the couch, tongues buried in each other's mouths, Charles still sobbing--somewhat uncontrollably now, but he could hardly be blamed for that--Erik murmuring soothing sounding German things into his mouth.
"Oi!" Raven said, startling them both. "We have a rule about this sort of thing," she said, but when Charles glanced over she was smiling. She'd probably know about the title, the saucy minx.
"Sorry," Erik immediately said, drawing back so that they were sitting once again, side by side, Charles still clutching Erik's book to his chest. He turned to Charles then. "I'm thinking we should probably retire to the bedroom before you read the dedication."
Charles mouth fell open, even as his eyes grew wide.
"Dedication?" he asked. Erik nodded, a little solemnly, but there was an edge of a grin dancing in his eyes.
Charles didn't hesitate. He bolted off the couch, vaulting over the coffee table--box and all--in his quest to reach the bedroom. He heard Erik's amused chuckle as Erik followed behind.
That last thing he heard, before Erik closed the door behind him, was Raven shouting, "For God's sake, keep it down, some of us are trying to eat!"
Not exactly an easy task, when faced with an enthusiastic Erik, but Charles was up for the challenge. First, he had a dedication to read.
My love
My light
My Charles
Thank you.
THE END
no subject
Date: 2011-11-23 04:50 am (UTC)I enjoyed every second.
no subject
Date: 2011-11-23 05:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-23 05:03 am (UTC)You've made me very happy.
Also I don't know what I'm going to do with myself waiting for the sequel. I'm going to miss these two adorable lovestruck knuckleheads so much.
no subject
Date: 2011-11-23 05:23 am (UTC)I loved the text/phone convo with Raven! This was such a lovely story!
(Re: Epilogue - I imagine, somewhere, half a class of Genetics-turned-Romatic-Poetry students are cheering/horribly jealous when that collection hits the bookstores)
no subject
Date: 2011-11-23 05:37 am (UTC)lol at Erik writing a poem on Charles' hip :D
can't wait for the sequel and see how they sort things out!
following your WIPs are never hard! i appreciate that you update up quickly <3
m
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Date: 2011-11-23 08:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-23 10:01 am (UTC)I think one of my favorite moments was when Erik found out Charles was part of the science department, and felt kind of inferior for the first time. Like maybe Charles was too smart for him. I don't know why, but that really, really got to me.
Thanks so much for writing this !!
milsteria
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Date: 2011-11-23 01:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-23 01:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-23 01:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-23 01:37 pm (UTC)And thanks.
no subject
Date: 2011-11-23 01:37 pm (UTC)And thanks.
no subject
Date: 2011-11-23 01:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-23 01:39 pm (UTC)Erik's inferiority in that department will certainly be explored in the sequel. He's still worried Charles is too good for him. They're so made for each other.
And thanks.
YAY!
Date: 2011-11-23 03:07 pm (UTC)Seriously, I probably have the most ridiculous grin on my face. Thanks for writing such a wonderful fic with a schmoopy happy ending! Goodness those boys deserve it!
I'm uber excited for the sequel too! There's more on the way! Yaaaaayyy!!!
Re: YAY!
Date: 2011-11-23 03:37 pm (UTC)Granted, I feel like I ought to write something serious after this, but I think I'll have more fun living in happy sequel land than anywhere else, so....
no subject
Date: 2011-11-23 04:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-23 04:07 pm (UTC)*happy sigh*
Is this the main place you post your fic? Or do you archive it anywhere else?
no subject
Date: 2011-11-23 04:18 pm (UTC)I'll archive this on AO3 when it's edited. I post first drafts here and at the kink meme, and then take a few weeks to clean things up before archiving.
no subject
Date: 2011-11-23 04:20 pm (UTC)Whenever you feel it is the right time for a sequel, I'll be here to read it and comment!
no subject
Date: 2011-11-23 04:29 pm (UTC)Not that it wasn't a fabulous journey to get here, and, yeah, usually following a WIP is pretty frustrating (since there seems to be a good 85% chance of them being dropped, c'est la vie :/) but with the rate that you update at, I assure you, it was extremely easy to do. I have a huge weakness for well-done AUs (who doesn't..?) and I can't speak for the OP but if they got scared off then, well, it's their loss. :P
I hope you enjoyed writing this as much as I enjoyed reading it, which was a whole hell of a lot. :)
The eventual payoff of these two getting together was definitely every bit as fulfilling as I thought it would be. And yet! There is still so much more to explore that I can't wait to see in the sequel, whenever you get to it.
Sit back, relax and take a break! You deserve it :D
no subject
Date: 2011-11-23 04:53 pm (UTC)I think the OP was just hoping for something different (though how, with the prompt, I don't know). Maybe more lit less rom-com? It actually drives me a bit batty, because now I'll never know what scared them off.
I'm glad though that you enjoyed it. It's always rewarding to know someone got something out of it. I had a ton of fun writing this, so it's awesome people enjoyed it.
no subject
Date: 2011-11-23 05:59 pm (UTC)The problem with kink-meme prompts sometimes is that they're so open to interpretation, which can lead to wonderful fills that you don't expect, of course, but then I'm sure as an author not knowing if you hit all the right marks or not can be frustrating. I realized a long time ago that I don't have the discipline to be able to sit down and finish a story, beginning to end, as much as I wish I could. So I stick with reading and commenting, god dammit, because it's the least I can do!
On a side note, I honestly don't see the point in being anonymous sometimes, since we're already doing this on the internet which has always been the epitome of anonymity to me anyway ... er, that being said, I'm only anonymous because I don't have a DW account, lol.
no subject
Date: 2011-11-23 06:23 pm (UTC)I've always been pretty anti-anon myself. I mean, not things like this or the kink meme (obviously some people don't have dreamwidth, and others are shy, and others just want to separate their online lives, and that's fine) but it's all those anon comms, that exist soley for bashing people/fic/art/etc in fandom that drive me up a wall. I figure if you've got something bad to say, at least have the decency to man up and say it with your user name (which is pretty anonymous anyway). A lot of people hide under the guise of anonymity just for the sake of destroying, and that always makes me sad.
no subject
Date: 2011-11-24 05:17 am (UTC)Thank you so much for writing this! ♥
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Date: 2011-11-24 12:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-24 04:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-24 09:31 pm (UTC)I suspect I may be a little slow on the uptake (read old).
But thank you, I'm so glad you enjoyed.
no subject
Date: 2011-11-26 06:01 am (UTC)I'm sitting on my bed, wearing mittens and two pairs of socks, with a fever of 41. ( should probably actually, like, go to the doctor. At some point. Or something.) And.... oh, gosh I love this. It just- warms the cockles of me heart, it really does. So charming and lovely. <3
(I, for one, relished the insane rom-com nature of it. This fandom is so full of The Angstiest Stories Ever (of which I am guilty of producing, er, a few. :s) that it's nice to just read a story where there are misunderstandings and tragedies, but they're sort of small quotidian tragedies. Plus, I'm a sucker for a comedy of errors.)
I loved this. Even though an alternate universe where profs apparently can't use google scares the bejeezus out of me. ;p
no subject
Date: 2011-11-26 02:07 pm (UTC)I swear this fic should come with a warning: Suspend all disbelief. Because, yeah, the fact that no one googled Charles is ridiculous. But if they'd done this the story would have been half a page long and nowhere near as fun to write (and hopefully read). I like angst occasionally, but XMFC (not the mention the comics) have enough angst on their own that I'll stick to hearts and roses in my fic, thank you very much. But then, I'm a sap that way.
Anyway, thanks!
no subject
Date: 2011-11-27 02:57 am (UTC)Just kidding. I could not love this fic any more. You, nekosmuse, are perfection.
no subject
Date: 2011-11-27 04:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-27 12:43 pm (UTC)Seriously, though, thanks.
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Date: 2011-11-27 12:44 pm (UTC)Re: YAY!
Date: 2011-11-27 02:56 pm (UTC)ok, maybe in small doses to help move things along ;)
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Date: 2011-11-27 05:55 pm (UTC)The entire story was incredibly satisfying and very, very thoughtfully done. I really love how you depicted the relationships between all the characters--the love and dependence and depth of knowledge that Erik and Raven share and how they always want the best for one another but aren't always sure what that means; the support and trust and longstanding ease between Moira and Charles; the instant attraction and desire between Charles and Erik that was immediately obvious but never overdone.
A few things that particularly stuck in my mind: I was hugely entertained by the scene in Central Park. I loved that Charles was honest about the notebook and that Erik recognized his honesty and appreciated it. I really enjoyed Raven's arc: that you gave us readers a chance to get to know her and Raven herself a chance to grow and learn instead of having her be just a sidekick for Erik. I particularly loved Erik's scenes in therapy: how he changed from barely tolerating them to actively wanting to heal--and that even that isn't always enough; how he carefully tried negotiating his boundaries but his progress didn't move too quickly. And I loved that the sex between them wasn't immediately easy and wasn't a cure-all.
Absolutely wonderful. I foresee many, many happy rereads :)
no subject
Date: 2011-11-27 08:24 pm (UTC)Anyway, I'll never be able to thank you enough for everything, but mostly, thank you for taking the time to read and let me know what you thought. I'm so glad you enjoyed. Thank you.
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Date: 2011-12-02 07:36 am (UTC)I'm so happy to have read this gem. Thank you for this wonderful story. -chiaki_ayumi
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Date: 2011-12-02 03:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-16 12:42 am (UTC)I feel like the mushiest part of my heart just imploded a little tiny bit.
I feel that two extremely good fics in a row can not be a coincidence and i will assuredly begin stalking you now. Be prepared to think to yourself, "Wow, should I be sincerely concerned about this?"
no subject
Date: 2011-12-17 01:26 am (UTC)from TurtleTotem
Date: 2012-02-29 07:30 pm (UTC)For what it's worth, regarding the poems, (and I know you didn't even write them but maybe you can pass on my compliments), I thought the napkin poem was amazing, blew all the others out of the water. The hip poem was good, too, and the whole concept of writing the poem ON CHARLES was just beautiful.
And now, on to the sequel!
Re: from TurtleTotem
Date: 2012-03-01 09:34 pm (UTC)I shall pass along your comments to my poet. She is lovely and wonderful and really captured Erik for me. I think she shows a nice transition with the character in the sequel, too. I was lucky to have her.