Chapter Text
The next Monday, Erik came into the building only to see a handmade flier posted on the bulletin board. It was a simple design: a giant cartoonish muffin in the center of the page. The words "MUFFIN MONDAYS! " were written in bright blue marker across the top and in smaller script at the bottom "At the request of Mr. Lehnsherr, muffins are to be consumed only in the break room. Enjoy!"
Erik stopped, frowned at the poster, but continued on his way. He hadn't actually given Charles permission to host any kind of even in the break room, but he supposed there wasn't much use in taking down the poster now. Someone was sure to have seen it already, and in Erik's experience, office news traveled fast. He might as well let them have their muffins. When someone inevitably got crumbs wedged into a keyboard, he'd put his foot down.
He wandered into his office and automatically reached for the mouse to bring the computer out of sleep mode.
"Er, good morning, Mr. Lehnsherr."
Erik jumped back, and gave the room a second look, this time taking in the mop of brown hair that was barely visible over the top of his chair. "Xavie- Charles? What are you doing here?"
"I've finished with my part in the Mr. Waggy's ad," Charles replied, turning the chair to face him. "I'm still going to be assisting you with the Frost campaign, aren't I?"
"Yes, of course. I didn't expect you to be in so soon, though. That, and I was still mulling over your little poster." He settled into his best "scary boss" voice and continued, "Just to be clear, Mr. Xavier, I never sanctioned the consumption of muffins in the workplace."
"Didn't you? Oh, well I do apologize then," Charles replied, breaking into a mischievous smile. "Only I could have sworn I saw you eating one last week."
Erik shrugged, obviously caught. "Yes. Well." He cleared his throat. "Have you gotten a chance to look at Ms. Frost's file? I wouldn't normally ask, but you don't seem to mind making yourself at home in my office."
Charles' eyes lit up with obvious enjoyment, and Erik observed that the young man either hadn't picked up on his remark about privacy, or he just hadn't cared. "Oh yes! I was quite impressed with the new line."
"You were?" Erik's face apparently showed the "why?" that he'd barely restrained himself from speaking aloud, because Charles let out a laugh that was somewhere between a chuckle and a giggle.
"Yes. It's a kind of revamped old Hollywood style. A good concept, though if the fur is real, it won't go over well with the animal rights crowd."
"I made a point to ask Ms. Frost about that. The fur is fake, but it's a very high quality and feels nearly identical to real fur." Then, after a moment's pause: "You really don't think they're too... Shiny?"
"I think that's what's supposed to give them a modern edge. The silhouettes are fairly conservative and the gowns don't show much skin, so the metallic colors are there to make sure they still catch the eye." With a mildly sheepish look, he added, "At least, I think that's what Raven would say."
"I still can't see it," Erik admitted.
"Here, I'll show you." Charles opened the browser and quickly found a few images of glamorous women in vintage mink coats. "This is the look that she's trying to update," he explained. "See how much more current the styles of her dresses are, though? That's what makes the line."
Erik picked up a photo of one of Emma Frost's dress-and-shawl ensembles and leaned in to peer closer at the picture on the monitor. There were some obvious similarities, but the two were clearly designed by two different people.
"I suppose-" He stopped, realizing that his chest was pressed right up against Charles' back. Charles' warmth reached him even through both their shirts and his hair smelled like shampoo: clean and a little sweet. Erik jerked back, sure that Charles (his young, innocent employee, he sternly reminded himself) must have felt his heart beating a little too hard. This hadn't been what he'd pictured when he'd assigned Charles to help him with Frost. Or was it? Ok, so maybe he had wanted to get to know Charles better, but this was ridiculous. He barely even knew the man; there was no reason to get so worked up over a simple touch.
He rolled his shoulders and collected himself. "I suppose I can see the influence, but I still can't understand the appeal."
Charles swiveled the chair back around to face him, a pensive expression pushing his lips into a slight pout. "Well, I think everyone wants to be the center of attention at some point. These looks aren't subtle, but they aren't meant to be. The idea is that they're loud and elegant at the same time. My sister would say it's a feminist statement."
"How on earth are flashy dresses and furs that cost too much a feminist statement?" It was a valid point, he knew, but his voice was missing its usual harshness and it sounded almost petulant in his ears.
"Mr. Lehnsherr, don't you have any poetry in your soul? Like in any other form of art, a significant part of fashion is the concept behind it. Ms. Frost's designs are all about how women don't have to be quiet and meek to be seen as beautiful. Say, that's not half bad, is it? We could work with that."
"Erik."
"What?"
Behind his back, Erik clenched and unclenched his fists, a nervous habit he'd never outgrown.
"If we're going to be working together on this and I'm going to call you by your first name, you should call me by mine. It's Erik."
Once again, he found himself on the receiving end of Charles' smile. This one was skewed with humor: just the slightest bit crooked.
"Pleased to meet you, then, Erik."
~-~-~-~
On Thursday, Erik came into his office to find not only Charles, but Emma Frost, as well. The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end and he frowned, trying his hardest not to glare at the woman while still sending an appropriate "this is my personal space so get the hell out of it" message. The designer, it seemed, was not receiving.
"Ms. Frost, I believe out next meeting was scheduled for next Friday."
"So it was," she replied, placidly. "I just stopped by to drop off a couple more pictures, in case you were lacking inspiration, but then your lovely Charles here invited me in. He's been telling me about your inspired read on my line. It's very good, if rather unexpected from you. I'm impressed."
"There's a 'but' here, isn't there?"
"You know me so well. I'm not convinced it will convince buyers." Her tone remained perfectly even, but Erik knew where this was going. It always went like this.
"Ms. Frost, we are an advertising firm. This is what we do." 'Stop questioning me and get out of my office before I drag you out.'
"And you're working for me which means you listen to what I say."
At the same time, they turned to face Charles, who shook his head, and smiled, and said in his strange, earnest way, "It's obvious that you don't get on well, which is a shame because you're very much alike."
Now they turned to each other, sizing one another up, eyes scanning posture. Frost's cautious "perhaps" came at the exact same time as Erik's flat "no."
"You are," Charles continued, after stifling a laugh. "You're both strong, independent people: competitive, driven, and constantly trying to improve upon your successes. Neither of you wants the other to be too much in control, and so you butt heads at every turn."
The designer and businessman exchanged looks again, but this time in disbelief.
"What neither of you has realized," Charles continued, "Is that there's no need to assert your dominance. Just agree to listen to each other and neither of you has to have more power than the other. This campaign is a partnership." Apparently unaware of how incredibly out of line his speech had been, Charles simply looked at them expectantly, his beatific smile undisturbed.
"Charles, dear," Emma said at last, "You are simply adorable. And no doubt wise beyond your years. Mr. Lehnsherr, I'm willing to put aside our differences-- or similarities, in this case-- if you are."
Erik simply nodded, and blinked, and tried to figure out what on earth had just happened and more importantly, why he wasn't feeling the urge to strangle the life out of either of them.
"So," Charles started again, "Let's talk about these ads of yours."
~-~-~-~
By the time Emma Frost had left, they had somehow become a decent team, and Erik was left wondering what Charles had done to make the woman so compliant. "You must be some kind of snake charmer," he mumbled, and Charles simply turned his wide, blue eyes on him, a look that said 'Who, me?'
"I did mean what I said about the two of you, though," he said, all heartfelt honesty again.
Erik looked away, fists moving behind his back again. "I know. You'd make one hell of a powerful politician. Dangerous, even." When
Charles only frowned, Erik sighed and forced himself to look the man in the eyes. If he could handle Emma Frost, surely he could manage to look at his own coworker.
"You've got a way with people, Charles," he said, his tone deep and hushed. "I don't understand how you can be so sincere all the time, or how you get people to hear you out when they'd never be willing to listen to anyone else. You're very gifted."
Charles beamed at him. "I know," he said, his expression somewhere between cocky and grateful. "But it's good to hear you say so."
And then he was off again, full of new ideas, rushing around the office, and darting to the printer and back, and producing sketches that no one but Janos (master graphic designer that he was) could hope to make out. As for Erik, he was left wondering what the young man had done to him, and considering calling Emma just to make sure that all this was actually real, and that he wasn't delirious and about to wake up with a cool cloth pressed to his head.
As he watched Charles scamper off to show Janos a billboard design, Erik couldn't keep the smile from his face, and when Az passed by and gave him a startled look, Erik found that he really didn't give a damn.