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I. Meeting
Charles was late for a meeting, hurrying across the university quad, head down, thoughts on the two hours of slow torture that lay in his future in the form of a faculty meeting sure to be dominated by the bombastic Dr. Shaw. He could really have used a couple of shots of scotch before this meeting, but the jumbo cup of Earl Grey in his hand would have to do.
He slammed into something solid and unexpected -- no, something solid slammed into him. He landed on his ass on the grass, his cup of tea flying into the air. Damn. He'd really needed that tea.
Charles found himself looking up at the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen. Tall and lean, broad shoulders tapering to an impossibly narrow waist, rusty auburn hair cut ruthlessly short to tame its natural curl, a scruff of beard a few shades lighter, and eyes the shifting blue-grey-green of the sea.
“Sorry,” Charles signed, too mesmerized to consider the man was unlikely to understand.
The man frowned and signed back. “I ran into you, idiot.
Now Charles was even more mesmerized. “You know sign?”
The man nodded. “My cousin is deaf.”
Charles pointed at himself. “Not deaf. Just can't speak.”
The man extended a hand and Charles let himself be pulled to his feet.
The man spotted Charles' cup and keys lying on the grass, picked up the cup, then reached for the keys, which flew into his hand, revealing himself to be a mutant. He glared at Charles, daring him to make something of it.
Fair was fair. Neat trick, he projected.
Those changeable eyes went wide for an instant, then the man grinned, showing more teeth than humans were supposed to possess. “Let me buy you a replacement.”
Charles beamed at him and nodded.
II. Dinner.
Barely a week after their fateful first meeting,
Erik invited Charles over for dinner. Nothing fancy, he'd insisted, but Charles thought the meal was delicious. Penne puttanesca with a salad and fresh garlic bread and a rustic apple tart for dessert.
They ate in companionable silence. That was one of the things Charles really liked about Erik -- he didn't feel the need to fill Charles' silences with words of his own. Indeed, he seemed to savor silence the way some might savor a fine wine.
Even though he knew Charles could hear, he still often signed rather than spoke. His hands moved with an economy of grace, fluid and expressive, yet as carefully contained as the rest of him.
Erik, it turned out, was also a professor, hired the semester before Charles, though in Mechanical Engineering rather than Biological Sciences. He projected a fierce, standoffish air that kept most people at bay, but underneath that prickly exterior was a kind and gentle man. Though no one but Charles ever saw that side of him.
To most people he was surly, difficult, argumentative. To Charles, he was funny, tender, romantic -- and argumentative. Their discussions, especially where mutant policy was involved, invariably became heated despite often remaining silent. Only when pushed to his limit would Erik resort to yelling.
And while Charles couldn't respond in kind, he could project thoughts LOUDLY. And did.
But no matter how much they disagreed, they were always able to table the discussion in favor of chess and scotch and making out on Erik's couch. Or Charles' couch.
And Charles didn't need his voice to tell Erik just how much he wanted him.
III. Movie
Charles and Erik nestled together at the back of a deserted movie theater, communal drink and popcorn between them. Nothing could be better. Except maybe watching a movie curled up naked on Erik's bed -- he had the better tv -- and blissfully ignoring the action onscreen in favor of each other.
And they'd most certainly wind up in one bed or the other later tonight. That had become inevitable.
Charles took a bit of popcorn and held it to Erik's lips. Erik's mouth closed over the kernels and Charles' fingertips. His tongue flicked the kernels deeper into his mouth, then he nipped gently at the pads of Charles' fingers, pretending to lick away salt and butter.
Charles had the distinct impression the air conditioning in the theater had broken. It was getting quite warm.
He picked up the drink with his free hand, took long swallows, knowing Erik would be watching his throat, watching his lips.
Both he and Erik were startled when the lights came up and the credits rolled. They'd been involved in an action drama of their own.
IV. Migraine
Charles was miserable. Everything was too bright, too loud, just too much. He'd cancelled his afternoon class and retreated to the sanctuary of his bedroom, curtains drawn.
He lay there, not daring to move, the pain ricocheting through his skull when he so much as blinked. His stomach was rolling, too, though as long as he stayed still, that remained manageable.
He became aware of a familiar presence, radiating concern and love. “Charles?” Erik asked quietly. “What's wrong?”
“Migraine.” Charles projected the word because it was the least painful option.
“Is there anything I can do?” Erik spoke barely above a whisper, and his hand came to rest lightly atop Charles.
“Stay. Hold me. The meds will work. Eventually.”
And so Erik did just that. He slid in beside Charles so carefully that Charles' head took only mild exception, then he held him silently until the meds kicked in and Charles fell into an exhausted sleep.
And then he held him all night.
V. Sanctuary
They'd been dating for three months. Had been joined at the hip for more than two of those months. They spent every moment they could together. Sharing lunch on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. Making out in the occasional empty classroom at least twice a week. Spending every evening together for dinner, chess, and sex, not necessarily in that order. Spending most weekends watching old movies, feeding each other popcorn, and having more sex.
Neither one of them had said the L word yet, but Charles knew this was real, this was love, this was the rest of his life.
Erik met him at his office, greeted him with a kiss and a smile. “I've got something to show you,” he said quietly.
“All right,” Charles signed.
Erik led him across campus to one of the Engineering buildings. He paused outside a rear door, glanced around to make sure no one saw, then unlocked it with his powers.
It was a stairwell door, and Charles looked up the spiralling steps. “How far up?”
“All the way to the roof. Eight flights.”
“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“It'll be worth it. Trust me.” But Charles sensed an underlying nervousness.
They trekked up the stairs until they ended at a steel door Erik unlocked and flicked open as if it were light as cardboard. Charles followed Erik out and surveyed the vista.
The campus surrounding him was at once familiar and strange. He knew the buildings, the lawns, the acres of sidewalks, but he'd never seen them from quite this vantage. The red brick of the buildings glowed a soft orange in the setting sun, the green spaces between buildings lay haphazardly as if laid out by a drunken chess master, and the sidewalks unfurled like a concrete maze.
Just beyond the campus lay the river, slow-moving and silent, its blue-grey waters a nod to Erik's eyes, the sun sparking off the water like Erik's eyes sparkled when he looked at Charles. Beyond the river lay acres of untamed forest. The trees stood sentinel against the coming dark, their leaves glowing golden as if lit from within.
“Do you like it?” Erik asked.
“It's beautiful.” Charles kissed Erik, slow and gentle and filthy as hell.
“This is my special place, the place I used to come whenever I needed to find some peace.”
“Used to come?”
“I haven't needed to come up here the last three months.”
Charles' eyes widened as he understood Erik's meaning.
“This is the place I came when I needed to be quiet, to think, to find calm and serenity when the world got to be too much. And then met you, and I found that peace in your arms. You're my sanctuary, Charles. I need you so much it's fucking scary.”
Erik had just laid his soul bare, and now he stared fearfully at Charles, awaiting his response. And there could be only one. His hand formed a single sign. “I love you.” Then he opened his arms wide.
Erik threw himself into Charles' embrace, and they clung together, just holding each other as the sun set and the stars emerged.
They didn't need words. They had each other.
+1. I Love You
Charles never ran out of ways to say I love you. Neither did Erik. It was in a look, a touch, a kiss. In the way Erik always made tea for Charles. In the way Charles massaged Erik's neck after a long day. In the way they curled up on the couch together to read. In the way they played chess and drank scotch and watched old movies.
Charles made breakfast on the weekends and brought it to Erik in bed. Erik taught Charles to ice-skate one winter afternoon, holding him securely in that warm embrace until he found hs balance, then giving him some seriously excellent hot chocolate afterwards.
Every touch, every gesture, every word was a declaration of love.
They'd been together for three years when Erik proposed. The Supreme Court had finally made same-sex marriages legal, and Erik leapt at the chance to make their union official.
He'd taken Charles up to the roof of the Materials Science building, back to what had once been his sanctuary, and then he had gone old-school, dropping to one knee and presenting the ring he had wrought himself.
Charles had stood frozen for what felt like an eternity, then his hand had flashed in answer. “Yes. Yes. Yes. I love you.” And he had launched himself into Erik's arms.
Erik caught him. And he would never let him go.