Chapter Text
In your lifetime you’ve went through years of bullying, losing your family, a number of questionable foster homes, living on the run and literal abuse and experimentation on your body; and yet none of these things seem as terrifying as getting on a plane for the first time.
The fact that it’s a luxurious private jet owned by the Xavier family (because oh, did Charles not mention how conveniently rich he is?), piloted by the Hank guy who, as far as you tell from the few conversations you've shared so far, is very reliable as well a literal genius, does not help much.
“You alright?”, Charles asks when he notices the way your breathing speeds up as soon as the plane starts moving. You nod, trying not to show just how badly you are freaking out when it takes off, but you suspect you’re failing miserably.
“Yeah. I’m just, uh, not that good with heights.”
Since when? I seem to recall you spending most of your childhood climbing trees, Plato remarks from his perch on the armchair’s back. The raven is mesmerized by the idea of flying so high, and stares out of the small window with pure wonder if his eyes. At least one of you is enjoying this.
“Trees are attached to the ground, Birdbrain. Totally different situation,” you say, gripping the armrests tightly. That makes Erik, who’s sitting in his own chair not too far from you, laugh. You narrow your eyes at him, trying to look annoyed, but again you suspect it doesn’t quite work as you’re probably literally green on the face from the nausea the pressure change gives you. “Sure, laugh at me for not feeling comfortable in a metal box that weights hundreds of tons and yet magically flies thousands of feet in the sky – and before you correct me, Hank, I do know it’s not magic, thank you very much! It’s called being ironic!” You raise your voice at the end.
“Relax. I promise you are one hundred percent safe here. May I?” Charles asks before covering your hand with his reassuringly. “Now focus on breathing out. Not in, out, make it as long as you can. That’s it, you’re already much calmer, see? And hey, even if something were to happen, we have a guy who controls metal on board, remember? I bet Eric could hold us afloat.”
Erik just raises his brow at this, and he looks like he wants to disagree but chooses not to, perhaps for the sake of your peace of mind. Charles is right though, you are slowly calming down. The telepath seems satisfied with your mental state and once the plane reaches the right altitude, he gets up to join Hank in the cockpit. After several more minutes you even dare to look outside, but you immediately regret it. Seeing all these clouds in the wrong place makes you feel dizzy again.
“Shit. I did not think this through when I agreed to come with you, did I?”
“Well, how did you think we’ll get to the literal other end of the country?” Erik asks, raising his brow again. He does that a lot, you notice.
“I don’t know, a road trip? I had this image of the three- four of us, Jesus” you add annoyed when Plato pulls your hair, “bonding over bad coffee from some suspicious diner and playing road games in mind.”
Erik stares at you for a few seconds before he speaks.
“You know, I expected you to be much more… reserved and wary, I guess, given the fact that you’ve been on the run for God knows how long. But you seem rather comfortable around us. You certainly don’t strike me as shy like I thought you’d after Charles told me what he’d found out about you. We thought it would take a lot more to convince you to trust us.”
“Well, thanks for making me sound like some kind of a socially awkward hermit. I’ll have you know, I do in fact get plenty of human interaction.” You cross your arms, mock offended. “Seriously though. For one, sure, my past experiences made it hard to be miss outgoing, but I’ve never really been a loner by nature, you know? The whole “lone wolf” thing is a myth, it literally never happens. I actually like being around people, always have. The fact that they don’t like me for obvious reasons makes it a bit problematic, sure, and liking being around them does not always mean understanding them. And there’s always some wariness there. But all of this doesn’t mean I have to be afraid of others or whatever… That, and you guys just seem trustworthy…ier than most other people I’ve met, I guess? You’ve been honest with me so far, I reckon if you wanted to rob and murder me, you would have done that by now.” You shrugged and stroked Plato’s feathers absent-mindedly. “And frankly, it’s enough for me that you’re okay by Birdbrain over here. He’s a real good judge of character. Should have listened to him about Stryker…”
Damn right, you should have, the raven caws and presses his beak to your cheek affectionately. You try not to dwell on the past, but the rare moments you let yourself remember what Styker did you still bring you down. Erik senses the shift in your mood and changes the subject.
“Do you play chess?”
You lit up at the welcome distraction.
“God, I haven’t played in years! But yeah, my grandfather taught me, we used to play every Saturday. I can barely remember the rules now, but I’d love to try it again.”
“Why not right now? There’s still a couple of hours before we get home, and I think Charles has a set stashed somewhere here.”
“He keeps any alcohol here as well?”
“Are you even old enough to drink?” Erik smirks.
“Screw you, I’m twenty three in two months.”
“I don’t know, you look kind of young to me.”
“Where’s that chessboard? I really feel like figuratively kicking your ass right now.”
***
“Holy freaking shit!” you exclaim as you step out of the plane and Charles’ family home comes into view. “Just how rich are you, and if I hypothetically married you how much of that money would become mine?”
Hank gives you an odd look, but Charles and Erik both snort.
“Darling, no need to seduce me into a convenience marriage. As long as you’re a part of our team you can consider it all yours as well.”
“Christ, Charles, I’ve known you for all of two days, maybe cut down on spoiling me cause at this rate I’ll get too used to luxury and become totally unbearable by the next week.”
You whistle loudly, taking in the mansion as you approach it. The closer you get, the more impressive it gets. It looks like something straight out of a Jane Austen novel – it’s almost exactly like you imagined Mister Bingley’s house.
The next few hours pass in a blur or getting settled into your new room, getting fed and, most of all, getting to know the other young mutants that have already been recruited. They all seem nice so far, and they all are absolutely in love with Plato (“Hey Raven, now that we have an actual raven will you change your name to not get confused?” “Fuck off Sean”), who, true to his vain nature, is in turn delighted by all the attention he gets. He is immediately dubbed the Team Pet Slash Official Mascot which, honestly, should bother you because Birdbrain is your best friend, but somehow it doesn’t bother you at all.
When you go to bed that first night, completely worn out by all the emotions of the day, Plato snoozing perched on a hat stand by the window and your scarce belongings organized neatly in the shelves that are now officially yours, you think that what you’re feeling might be belonging.
You don’t want to jinx it that early on, but as you’re falling asleep, for once in your life you allow yourself to hope.
***
You are woken up by the smell of coffee.
You blink in confusion, trying to remember where you are. The last time you’ve been woken like that was when your family was still alive… for a good few seconds you are almost convinced that all you’ve been through has been just a dream, that you are still a kid and that any second now your mother will knock on the door to wake you up for school. As your sleepy haze subsides, though, the memories of the last few days come back to you.
Honestly, the last several years being a dream almost sounds more plausible than reality.
Plato is nowhere to be seen – you left the window open for the night, so he probably left to explore the nearby forests as soon as the sun rose. You have no idea what time it is, but judging by the soft sunlight and the birds you can hear chirping outside, it can’t be later than six. You are used to getting up early and you feel more rested than you have in months, so you decide to follow the scent of coffee hoping that it will lead you to the kitchen. You doubt you would make it there on your own on the first try. Even with your enhanced senses it’s hard, with the houses meandering hallways that all look the same. It doesn’t help that you are still not quite awake, you need your daily dose of caffeine to properly clear your mind in the mornings.
The kitchen is empty safe for Erik. He’s staring out of the window, what looks like a very expensive antique coffee cup in his hand, obviously lost in thought. For some reason you expected the other early bird to be one of the younger mutants, Darwin or the blond guy, Axel or something, but you’re kind of relieved it’s someone you know a little better. Still, Erik doesn’t strike you as someone who likes to be up so early, and as you study him you notice his hair is ruffled like he tossed and turned for hours, and there are noticeable dark circles under his eyes. You wonder if he slept at all this night. He hasn’t noticed you yet, so maybe he’s not so much deep in thought as you assumed, but rather just zoning out due to sleep deprivation...
You decide to hum a small greeting and he actually startles.
“Ah. Good morning, I didn’t hear you come in. You're up pretty early.”
You shrug and stifle a yawn before answering. “Could say the same about you.”
“True.” Erik smiles a little – boy, he really looks tired – and moves to set his cup on the countertop. “I just didn’t take you for a morning person.”
“You sure make a lot of assumptions about me, don’t you?” You cringe, mock-offended, and it’s his turn to shrug. “Right, anyway. Where do you guys keep coffee? Charles told me to feel at home and I’m planning to take full advantage of that, at least when it comes to my daily dose of caffeine.”
“Second cupboard to the right. The cups are over there” he replies, pointing to a giant display cabinet on the wall behind you. You nod and turn to reach for one of but stop dead in your tracks when Erik continues talking.
“Nice ears, by the way.”
“What?” you reach up to your head and, of course, you can feel big, furry ears stick out from your hair. You can feel your face go hot as you try to cover them with your hands. “Shit, God, I’m sorry, I didn’t notice… that happens sometimes when I’m asleep, I should control this better-“
“Hey, calm down, it’s okay!” Erik interrupts you. You shut up, confused, your hands still on your fluffy wolf ears. “When I said they’re nice, I meant. You don’t have to hide your mutation here, and you should not be ashamed of it. Quite the opposite actually. From what we’ve seen you are quite extraordinary. You should be proud of it.”
You cock your head a little in thought - a mannerism of yours that is much more dog-like than you’d like to admit – but you put your hands down, uncovering your ears, as you consider his words. Finally you sight and go back to making your coffee. It’s way too early and you are not caffeinated enough for such conversations.
“Easy for you to say, mister I-Bend-Metal-To-My-Will-And-Look-Totally-Awesome-While-Doing-So. It’s hard to be proud of your… mutation”, you’re still not quite used to the word, “when it makes you a literal-”
“Monster?”
You cringe.
“I was going to say werewolf, but, yeah. Pretty much.”
“I’m not going to pretend I know what it’s like for you, but trust me, I do know something about feeling like a monster.”
Your coffee is finally ready, so you sit on of the barstools at the countertop, facing him. Erik watches you drink in an oddly comfortable silence, and you feel more grounded in reality with every sip. Finally you set the empty cup down and size him up, your eyes narrowing in consideration.
“Alright. Now that I’m properly caffeinated. Wanna talk about it?”
Erik raises his brows at this.
“I thought we were talking about you.”
“I literally just woke up, it’s gonna take at least a few hours before I feel human enough to talk about myself. And honestly, you just look kind of down for such a nice morning. And what you just said- sounds like there’s a story. Thought maybe you’d like to vent.” You shrug.
“‘Kind of down’, as in, I look like shit and you’re too polite to say that?” He smirks and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes.
“Come on, do I strike you as particularly polite? That’s the third false assumption about me you make in as many days. You must be a terrible judge of character.”
Erik laughs, and you can’t help but grin at him. It makes him look younger, and much more approachable. He looks quite intimidating most of the time, all tall posture and strong jaw line, but right now, laughing in the soft morning light, with his untidy hair and reddish-brown stubble beginning to show, it’s like there’s a different person sitting in front of you.
Not that you’ve been particularly intimidated by him, but it’s still a nice change.
He takes a sip of his now cooled-down coffee before speaking.
“Thanks for caring, I guess. I didn’t sleep well tonight, is all. And you’re right, it’s too early for that kind of talk. Hungry? You’re not planning to get through your first day here on one cup of coffee.”
“Uh, I kind of was. It’s usually enough for me til noon.”
“Oh, it won’t be enough today” you hear Charles say as he enters the kitchen and heads for the fridge. “You better eat a solid breakfast, you’ll need a lot of energy for your first training. Eggs sound good to you?”
“What? What first training? I thought you’d give me some time to get settled down first, you know, explore the area, get to know the gang?”
“You will. During training.” Charles sounds awfully cheerful for somebody who just got up. You kind of want to ask him what got him in such a good mood, but think better of it.
“Jesus, you don’t waste any time, do you? I guess I only have myself to blame, though. I did tell you do stop spoiling me. And yeah, eggs are fine.”
Charles makes breakfast for the two of you.
“Only this one time, since it’s your first day”, he says, setting the plate before you.
“Forgot about me, Charles?” Erik interjects, feigning a sweet little smile. Charles flips him off before digging into his plate.
They keep up a casual conversation, full of what you assume are references and inside jokes you are not privy to. It reminds you of the two boys who lived several houses across from you. They were brothers two or three years apart, and you would play with them sometimes when you were little. Paradoxically, spending time with them would always make you feel lonely, wishing for siblings of your own.
Although oddly similar, watching Erik and Charles interact over the breakfast table makes you feel the exact opposite. Once again, you are surprised by how comfortable and natural you feel in their presence. After all you’ve only met them a few short days ago, you should be feeling uncertain and awkward. Instead, you’re sitting in this giant, luxurious kitchen for the second time in your life, feeling like you’ve lived here forever. They include you in the conversation every once in a while, asking you little questions, and when the others start coming up for breakfast it starts to feel like your last diner’s rush hour. Sean is arguing with Alex over a box of cereal, Darwin is rummaging through the cabinets, Hank is laughing at something Raven said, and strangely enough the commotion doesn’t make you uncomfortable at all. At some point Plato flies in through the open window and sits on your shoulder cawing excitedly about the incredible forests around here, and there are even some ravens here, quite delightful folk, you must meet them, and honestly, you can’t recall the last time you’ve felt so at home anywhere.