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It’s been ages since he has had occasion to think on it, but right now all Erik can think about is buying tickets to a damn carnival of all things. Charles has been waxing poetic on the subject for the past several weeks after hearing through the grapevine that it was coming back to New York City for the first time in several years. Granted, Erik remembers the carnivals that used to come to his home back in Germany. Though, circus may be a more fitting title what with the sword swallowers and the fortune telling tents propped up all over. Regardless, he has fond memories of the few times his mother could afford to take him and while he understands why a child may like the activity, it is not necessarily something an adult should find such enjoyment in. Then again, Charles has never been all that mature. The man’s got posters on his wall of the Lion King for Christ’s sake. (And no, Erik does not find that impossibly adorable thank you very much.)
The only problem is, all of the tickets have been pre-sold on the carnival’s website (what kind of carnival even has a website!?) and thus Charles has been pouting quite emphatically for the last several days about being unable to purchase one. And though he’s got plenty of money and old-class family connections, there apparently is nothing that can be done.
What Erik hasn’t told Charles though, is that an old friend of his from the homeland recently relocated to the States, not far from them actually, and intended on attending the festivities himself along with his wife. However circumstances changed and he offered the tickets to Erik just this morning. And damn it all to Hell but he accepted them. If only just to stop the moaning and groaning of his roommate (and not at all because of the uncomfortably provocative way his plump red lips look shaped into a pout that makes Erik want to sink his teeth-no. Or because his smile is the most stunning thing Erik’s ever laid eyes on and he wants to be the one to put it there. Of course not), because quite frankly it’s become a pain in the ass having to hear carnival this and carnival that nonstop.
Except now he’s lost his nerve. Charles arrived home from his classes at the university a few hours ago and it is now late, dinner’s been eaten and wine is now being poured over a game of chess and Erik still has not managed to get the words out about the tickets. If it were only the one ticket, it would be different. Then, Charles wouldn’t expect anything, would be going on his own; but there are two tickets and every time he opens his mouth he feels like whatever he says will be construed at asking Charles on a date. Which okay, definitely not a negative concept especially considering how madly and stupidly in love with his best friend Erik is. But that’s the thing. Best friend.
“Erik?” A soft inquiry.
“Hmm?” He looks up from the murky maroon liquid swirling in his glass to meet the imploring too-bright blue eyes gazing at him intently.
“You’ve been staring into your glass for the last ten minutes. Are you okay, my friend? I had not intended to monopolize the conversation; you know very well that if I’m not stopped I tend to babble on. Kind of like now, only-“
“Charles,” Erik refuses to let his mirth show, but the answering grin on Charles’ face informs him he’s not succeeded.
“I’m fine, I’m sorry. I have been playing rather poorly this evening haven’t I?” A cursory glance at the chessboard laid out on the table between them displays a laughable defense on his side and an impressive offense on his opponent’s.
Charles says nothing, only lets his grin grow, a twinkle in his eyes that Erik knows signifies the quiet amusement that the man is too gentlemanly to express.
“It hasn’t been that poor, my friend. You just seem distracted,” a head tilt upsets the precarious balance of some of his tight chocolate curls and a few thick ringlets tumble down to partially obscure his eyes. (Erik’s fingers absolutely do not burn to brush that downy soft hair off of his friend’s smooth, freckle-spattered face.)
“Yeah, I have been meaning to get around to it, but do you remember my old classmate, Lebeau?” At Charles’ nod of recognition, Erik continues, “He was going to go to the carnival with his wife, but shit happened and now I’ve got the tickets. Would you like to go-“
“YES. Oh my goodness, absolutely!” At this point Charles’ eyes are glowing and his once pale face has been flushed a deep splotchy scarlet- a sign Erik has come to decipher as meaning intense excitement or embarrassment. Considering the situation, Erik feels secure in the knowledge that he has done well in pleasing Charles. (And damn it what is with the hop-skippy two-step his heart has taken to doing whenever this happens!? Perhaps he should seek professional help.)
Erik merely lets his lips quirk in an awkward parody of a smile. Charles remains quiet after the initial proclamation, which is unlike him. Erik cants his head to the side and looks up covertly under his lashes while moving a pawn forward on the board before him. Charles isn’t paying attention to the board though, he seems uncharacteristically fidgety, fingers wringing themselves until the thin skin of his knuckles turn white.
“Er…Does that- I mean, are you?” He clears his throat delicately before straightening his shoulders and looking Erik in the eye, “Will you attend with me?”
“If that is your wish,” he murmurs.
His hands are restless, one clenching his thigh nervously through the jeans he’s wearing and the other rolling one of Charles’ lost pawns between his fingers. Suddenly there is pressure on his hand, ceasing his movement. A thin, delicate hand with short fingers topped with square fingernails. Erik brings his gaze back to Charles’.
“You don’t have to, my friend. I am overjoyed and honored that you would offer the tickets to me! I just wondered if perhaps you might enjoy attending as well.”
Of course, how very Charles to make certain he doesn’t feel left out. Erik berates himself silently for thinking his friend meant otherwise.
“One could hardly miss the way you’ve been blathering on about the event for the past several weeks, Charles. I’d have been remiss in my duties as your best friend if I hadn’t offered the tickets to you.”
Charles releases his hand and slumps back into his chair. There is a small pucker set in his brow, and his mouth purses in frustration. Erik decidedly doesn’t focus on those lips.
“That’s not what I meant, Erik.”
Raising an eyebrow, “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Nothing, never mind, it’s silly,” comes the dismissive response.
Frowning at the look on his friend’s face, Erik opens his mouth to ask for clarification, but then thinks better of it. If Charles wants to end that line of discussion, he’s not going to push. Seeing an opportunity on the board after Charles maneuvers his knight, Erik seizes the weakness left open.
He misses the way too-bright eyes examine his face avidly and flushed red lips are sucked into their owner’s mouth to be nibbled over with sharp teeth. What he doesn’t miss is the forced smile sent his way when the game is concluded and Charles has lost. But before he can joke with his friend about being a sore loser (surely that is why he has been tense the rest of the game after their conversation) Charles has bid him goodnight and walked off on deceptively long legs-considering his friend’s short height- to his own bedroom. The click of the door closing behind him has Erik’s mind pondering one question the rest of the evening: what just happened?