Work Text:
“Detective Lehnsherr!” Captain Oliver called out across the bullpen, beckoning Erik into his office. “I need to see you for a minute.”
Handing off his files to Darwin, Erik’s steps halted when he sensed the frame of an all-too familiar wheelchair inside the Captain’s office. For a panicked moment, Erik’s stomach plummeted as his worst nightmare popped up in his head: Charles filed a sexual harassment complaint against me.
Then the ridiculousness of the situation hit him and he could breathe again. Why on earth would Charles do that? Erik had never touched Charles in an inappropriate manner. At least, not outside his dreams. There had been handshakes, hugs, sometimes an arm draped loosely across each other’s shoulders. These were things good friends did, right? Shaking his head, Erik resumed his short trek to the Captain’s office, twisting the doorknob with a flick of his wrist.
As expected, Charles was already inside, laughing with the captain over some small talk. “Erik!” Charles always seemed delighted to see him.
Erik gave him a brief smile before taking a seat. “You wanted to see me, Captain?”
“Yeah, yeah I did.” Captain Oliver’s expression grew serious. “Could you shut the door?”
Erik did so with a wave of his hand, wondering what this was about. From the way Charles was studying the genome paperweight on Captain Oliver’s desk, he most definitely already knew. Erik couldn’t blame him; if he were an omega-level telepath, he’d use it to his advantage too.
He made sure to push that thought at Charles, who rewarded him with an eye-roll.
“So, we finally have a lead on Sebastian Shaw,” Captain Oliver said, holding up a placating hand to Erik who sat upright immediately.
“You mean Klaus Schmidt,” Erik snapped out.
“If you’re going to let this be personal, I’m going to pull you off the case,” Captain Oliver warned him. “We have reliable intel that this guy - Shaw, Schmidt, whatever you want to call him - is resurfacing for a major arms deal tomorrow night. If we don’t nab him, he’s going to go off the grid and disappear for another two years.”
“Our C.I. says that Shaw will be meeting up with some of his Russian contacts at a fundraiser,” Charles told Erik. “We need to get some eyes and ears on that.”
“And guess who conveniently has invites to that fundraiser?” Captain Oliver tilted his head at Charles, who smiled.
“It’s the annual Christmas Carol Ball, organised by the Westchester Hospital Foundation.” Charles slid a gaily-decorated green and red envelope over to Erik, who picked it up and was surprised by its weight and thickness. “My family gets invited every year, even after my parents passed. But Raven and I are always too busy working to attend.”
“Not this year, I presume.” Erik scanned through the expensively-engraved invitation card, running a thumb over Charles’ name absently. “We’re going undercover?”
“That’s right,” Captain Oliver said. “We’ll need almost the whole squad, plus backup from INTERPOL. They want to nab Shaw as badly as we do.”
“Great,” Erik said briskly, handing the invitation back to Charles. “So when do we brief the rest of the squad?”
“In half an hour,” the Captain said, checking his watch. “Now look, Erik, I know that arresting Shaw is important to you. The reason I called you in here to talk to you first is to make sure you’re not going to do something impulsive that’s going to blow the whole operation.”
Anger flared deep inside Erik, but he somehow managed to tamp it down just like how Charles had shown him to do. “I half-expected you to proceed without me,” Erik said as cuttingly as possible. A little churlish, but it was better than yelling at one’s superior officer. “It’s Charles’ informant, Charles’ invitation. You don’t need me.”
“You’re one of my best detectives,” Captain Oliver said. “Now let’s get cracking on the briefing. We don’t have a lot of time.”
After Charles wheeled himself out of the Captain’s office, Erik was about to follow him when he felt a hand gripping his elbow. “Captain?”
“I mean it, Lehnsherr,” Captain Oliver said in a low voice. “Don’t blow your cover, okay? Xavier said he wouldn’t do this without you, so I trust that he knows what he’s talking about. I don’t want anything happening to my two best detectives. Understand?”
Erik’s words were crammed in his throat, so he found himself nodding instead. The Captain released him with a wide smile. “Good. Now let’s go get this son of a bitch Shaw.”
* * *
The Christmas Carol Ball was held at the downtown Marriott this year, so Erik had to rent a tux. It was a miracle that he had managed to find one that fit, given that it was a last-minute rental during the holiday season. The tuxedo was a little loose around the middle, but it was a common problem Erik had with his clothes, due to what Raven called his “criminally narrow waist”.
Guests were starting to stream into the Marriott’s glitzy entrance, rich people and society folk emerging from a line of black, gleaming limousines that stretched out around the block. As planned, Erik and his colleagues from the Mutant Crimes Division were already in place. Sean was stationed outside a nearby bodega, busking with a guitar while keeping an eye on the hotel entrance. Alex was posing as a banquet waiter working at the ball, while Hank and Moira had commandeered the Marriott’s security room, which oversaw all the A.V. feeds from the hotel’s security cameras as well as the extra equipment they’d planted around the ballroom. As for Captain Oliver, he was holed up with a horde of INTERPOL agents in the office building across the street.
All the other detectives were posing as formal guests and supposed donors (as opposed to Charles and Raven, who were actual donors). Erik arrived early and went through the motions of security clearance, tweaking the metal detector so that it would overlook his weapon, holstered to his right ankle. Ushers guided him to the Main Ballroom, which was lushly decorated in gold, red and green. A 20ft Christmas tree towered over the guests, who were already taking selfies near its base, surrounded by oversized gifts. Erik had never seen such opulence before. No wonder Charles and Raven didn’t like to attend these shindigs.
Erik finally spotted Darwin and Scott on the right side of the tree, fidgeting in rented tuxes and pretending not to recognise Erik. “I hate rented clothes,” he overheard Scott complaining. “Like, how many butts have been in them?”
“Dude, seriously?” Darwin laughed. “Get your head in the game, man.”
Hank’s voice came over the intercom. “You guys hearing me okay?”
“Yeah, working fine,” Erik said, turning towards a quiet corner and pretending to check his phone instead. McCoy had come up with these brilliantly tiny mics and earpieces that were almost invisible, and Charles had praised the man to high heavens, leaving him beaming for days. Then again, that was how Charles was with everyone. Hank had been the first rookie he’d mentored, and it made sense that Charles would be proud of him.
Erik himself had been on the receiving end of Charles’ praise many times before. With anyone else, he would have ignored anything complimentary and marked them as sycophants, but he had the sense that Charles’ respect and admiration for Erik was very much sincere and hard-won, meted out bit by bit over the five years they’d been colleagues and, eventually, friends. Charles, who was used to seeing through people’s lies, pretensions and self-delusions, had seen through Erik and somehow liked what he had found. Erik, who was much slower to trust, had found himself grudgingly building respect for a fellow detective who had refused to let his wheelchair or trust fund define him. When new detectives joined the Mutant Crimes Division, their stock answer was always, “Because I want to make a difference.” Charles, who could choose to be a member of the Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist Club if he so wished but tossed that all aside for thankless police work, was one of the few who’d truly meant it. Erik respected that.
And if somewhere along the way, Erik’s affection and admiration had somehow morphed into a jumble of complicated emotion and a deep-seated fear of losing Charles, then it was a beast beyond his control. He’d given up on trying to tame it.
Raven and I are reaching, Charles said in his head, as if on cue, startling Erik. Anyone seen Shaw?
“Not yet,” Moira said over the intercom. “INTERPOL agents stationed a few blocks up spotted the Russians, though. They’re on their way.”
The guests were starting to flood into the ballroom now as the fashionable time of arrival drew close. Erik made his way through the clouds of expensive perfume and cologne, keeping a sharp eye out for Schmidt and any of his known associates. It had been fifteen years since he last saw any of them face to face, but Erik would never forget the man responsible for the terrorist bombing of Trask Labs, where Erik’s mother had been working as a receptionist.
Fifteen years. Erik still remembered every single line and wrinkle on the face of the man who had ruffled a twelve-year-old Erik’s hair as he’d left the building, unseen bomb in tow. If Erik hadn’t been sent to the bodega next door with a dollar for candy, he might have been among the 73 casualties. Thankfully, his mother had survived, although she still walked with a limp.
To this day, Erik could still not stomach sweets.
“Heads up, Russians are in the lobby,” Angel’s voice in his ear broke through his thoughts, sharpening Erik’s reflexes. Across the ballroom, Darwin and Scott continued chatting as though nothing had happened, stealing hors d'oeuvres off a passing Alex’s tray.
There was a mild commotion in the ballroom, and Erik felt every camera in the place turning towards the doors. Ah, Charles and Raven had arrived. Raven was wearing a stunning blue gown, her hair red for the evening. This was as close to ‘coming out’ in public for her as Erik had ever seen. Perhaps, one day, she would finally listen to him and do away with the masquerades.
However, it was Charles who robbed Erik entirely of his breath. Charles had thrown on a fine silk tuxedo, pairing it with a very charming white bow-tie that Erik desperately wanted to tug loose. His hair - normally an unruly mess - was neatly swept back with pomade, the Savile Row one that Erik could identify by scent alone. Charles’ smile was dazzling as he worked his charm with high-society acquaintances and simpering socialites. In this light, his eyes looked even bluer than usual.
Erik couldn’t tear his gaze away, his throat dry.
“Damn Xavier, you sure do clean up nice,” Moira said as Hank chuckled beside her. “Okay, keep an eye on the blonde woman dressed entirely in white. INTERPOL has photos of her with Shaw.”
Copy that, Charles sent back, not at all skipping a beat during his animated conversation with a middle-aged woman.
Erik reached for a flute of champagne, keeping tabs on where Charles’ wheelchair and Raven’s locket were in the ballroom at all times. Occasionally some foolhardy person would try to strike up a conversation with Erik, but his short replies and brusque tone took care of that. The only one that Erik couldn’t quite shake off was a hospital administrator named Magda, who seemed quite determined to put Erik down for at least an annual donation.
“The children’s wing has almost finished renovations,” she told him earnestly, and Erik got the impression that she genuinely had the hospital’s welfare at heart. “You should come and see it when it’s done next month. I’ve seen the architect’s plans, it all looks amazing. After that...we could always go to this great coffee place next door.”
“Okay,” Erik said absently, his eyes trained on the blonde woman in white. She was now sharply eyeing Charles, glancing every now and then at her phone. It’s only when he spotted Magda’s brilliant smile that he realised he’d missed something.
You just agreed to a date with her, Charles’ voice sounded low and intimate in his head, which meant that only Erik could hear him, not the entire squad. She really does care about the hospital. Be nice.
I am nice, Erik sent back, watching impassively as Magda began digging through her clutch for her name card. He could feel Charles’ eyes on both of them, but he didn’t want to meet his gaze.
He hadn’t been aware that Charles was watching him too.
* * *
After the Russians had arrived, Erik and the other detectives remained on high alert. Charles was working his way through the room, and he’d cleverly maneuvered an introduction to Shaw’s supposed right-hand woman. Emma Frost, Charles eventually sent out to the squad as he continued chatting with her. She’s a Level Three telepath.
Erik cursed under his breath. No wonder the few witnesses who had chanced across Shaw and his crew all had muddled memories.
Everyone else had to watch uncomfortably as Emma Frost embarked on a very heavy-handed campaign of seduction, aimed entirely at Charles. Raven, sensing that Charles might get somewhere with their lead, decided to make herself scarce.
“Jesus, the way she looked at me,” Raven later said over the intercom. Her voice sounded echoey, so she was probably in the ladies’. “I figured I’d get out of her way. Good luck, Charles.”
“Everyone, keep your eyes on Xavier,” the Captain barked, an edge of worry in his voice. Even though Erik wasn’t looking at Charles right this moment, he could sense his friend bristling with indignance. He’d expected Charles to assert that he could look after himself, thank you very much, but for the moment there was only silence.
* * *
Erik had snuck out to the balcony for a clandestine guilt-cigarette when he sensed Charles’ wheelchair rolling up behind him. “You told me you were quitting.” Charles sounded half-admonishing, half-amused.
“So I did.” Erik blew the smoke away from Charles’ direction, stubbing out his cig on the sole of his shoes with a sigh. Thank goodness it was Charles; he would have hated to look weak in front of anyone else.
Hardly a weakness, Charles told him, pretending to look out over the city and admire the view of Westchester instead. You’re one of the strongest people I know.
Strong enough to be defeated by a mere stick of tobacco? Erik sent back wryly.
We all have our vices. To Erik’s surprise, Charles’ expression seemed...rueful, for some reason. Erik inexplicably wanted to mow down the person who was responsible for Charles’ distress, even if he logically knew that Charles was more than capable of taking care of himself.
Charles cleared his throat a little. “You...look very nice in a tux.” His eyes were warm with approval as they roamed over Erik. How about wearing one when you’re at the precinct?
Erik snorted as Charles chuckled mischievously. Oh yeah, that’ll be great. All those perps won’t be able to get enough of hardass Detective Lehnsherr in a tux.
Can’t say I blame them. Charles’ smile turned a little soft, and Erik was wondering if Charles had meant to send the accompanying curl of warmth.
“There you are, Charles darling!” The click-clack of high heels announced Emma Frost’s arrival, and Erik ignored the ugly surge of jealousy in his chest as Emma laid a proprietary hand on Charles’ bicep. “There is someone I want to introduce you to.”
“Of course.” Charles nodded apologetically at Erik. “Sorry Mr. Eisenhardt, we’ll catch up next time, yes?”
“Next time, Dr. Xavier,” Erik agreed, watching as Charles wheeled his way back into the ballroom, Emma’s lingering hand immovable on Charles’ shoulder.
Erik scoffed into the cold night air, his breath a long white plume. Here they were, on a damned mission that could net the criminal Erik had been chasing his whole life. Instead, Erik had his damned stomach twisted in damned knots over his damned best friend--
It’s Shaw, Charles’ mental voice was louder than usual with excitement. Emma Frost just introduced me to Sebastian Shaw.
* * *
“Wait, where did Shaw come from?” Raven sounded confused over the intercom. “Darwin, Scott, did you guys see anything?”
“We had our eyes on the door the whole time,” Darwin insisted. “However he got in, it wasn’t through the usual entrances.”
“Nothing here too,” Sean said, his voice a little hoarse from singing. “I haven’t left my spot at all, no way they could have slipped past me.”
There was a slight pause, before they heard a breathless Alex: “Sorry guys, I couldn’t respond until I’d set down my tray. I saw Shaw and his buddy using the catering entrance.”
From where Erik was standing, he could see Shaw chatting with Charles and Emma, while a handsome Latino man stood nearby, looking bored. “But how did they get in?” Erik hissed, eliciting a raised eyebrow from a socialite swanning by. He headed for a corner instead, pretending to be absorbed in his phone. “This is Shaw’s peculiar M.O., we never see him enter or leave buildings--”
Then the answer hit Erik so squarely in the face that he actually staggered backwards a little.
“He has a teleporter,” Erik said faintly. “One of his people-- they’re a teleporter.” Charles, he has a teleporter with him. Do not go anywhere alone with Shaw.
“Shit,” Darwin said. “The Hispanic guy is a teleporter?”
“I don’t know.” Erik was trying not to get frantic with worry, but something was very wrong. Charles had not been responding to Erik or anyone else for a while now, and for the first time Erik wished he had made Charles wear an earpiece like everyone else, instead of depending solely on his telepathy. “Okay, I don’t think Charles can hear us telepathically or otherwise. Something’s blocking him off.”
“Maybe it’s Emma.” Raven sounded just as worried as Erik felt. “I can’t reach Charles either. She must be a lot more powerful than she let on.”
Now Shaw was pointing towards the doors, making grand gestures as Charles watched and listened. Of course Charles was too smart to go to a quiet, isolated area alone with a notorious mutant terrorist, but he would definitely play along for the sake of the case, trusting the rest of the squad to have his back. Unfortunately, if Shaw really did have a teleporter as Erik suspected, they wouldn’t be in time. Whatever Emma was doing to wall off Charles’ mind would render Charles unable to sense danger and protect himself until it was too late.
Putting away his phone, Erik watched as Charles began wheeling himself towards the exit, Shaw and Emma flanking him. Behind them, a smirk grew on the Hispanic guy’s face.
Erik made a decision.
He was halfway across the ballroom when he heard Hank say, “Uh, Erik, what are you doing?”
“You can’t arrest Shaw here and now,” Moira insisted. “He hasn’t even met the Russians--”
“Detective Lehnsherr, stop what you’re doing!” Captain Oliver commanded over the intercom. “This is the closest we’ve been to Shaw in years. Even if you arrest him right now, we can’t prove that he’s the terrorist Klaus Schmidt! This is an order--”
With a flick of his hand, the buzz of Erik’s earpiece died down instantly. About twenty feet away, Darwin and Scott were visibly torn between obeying their captain and coming to Erik’s and Charles’ assistance.
Shaw and his crew had almost made it to the exit when Erik managed to block their path. Charles’ eyes were wide with surprise, while Emma was openly scowling at him. Shaw simply studied him with an impassive expression. “Hello again, Mr. Eisenhardt,” Charles said, his brow creasing in a little frown. He must have been wondering why he couldn’t speak telepathically to Erik. “Is everything alright, my friend?”
“Dr. Xavier--” Erik paused, trying to think of a good excuse. “I, uh, I need to speak to you urgently.”
Charles smiled apologetically at him. “I’m very sorry, but I’m stepping out for a while with my new friends. Could we perhaps postpone this a bit?”
Shaw’s initial look boredom and annoyance was starting to sharpen into a skeptical expression as he took Erik in again, having dismissed him initially. Erik was running out of time before Shaw got suspicious. “It really can’t wait,” he insisted. “I need to talk to you now.”
“Honestly, I--” Charles’ sentence was cut off as Erik swooped down and kissed him deeply, eliciting a gasp from Emma and an eyebrow raise from Shaw.
Erik had imagined his first kiss with Charles many, many times. How many scenarios had he foolishly entertained during long meetings and stakeouts? Taking Charles out to a movie on one of their rare days off and kissing him in the darkness of the theatre, or dragging Charles to the precinct’s supply office and making out with him. Or, Erik’s particular favourite fantasy: lounging in the comfort of Charles’ messy apartment and laughing over nothing, before Erik would lean in and press his lips to Charles’ pliant red mouth.
He’d never imagined it would be in front of a hardened criminal who had almost killed Erik and his mother. A hardened criminal who was, in fact, growing impatient with Erik’s antics. “What’s happening here?” The steel underlying Shaw’s mild tone was evident.
Pulling away, Erik drank in the surprise on Charles’ face, his lips parted in confusion. “M-Max, I don’t--”
At least Charles wasn’t confused enough to forget Erik’s cover. “You know I’m getting married next week,” Erik said, scrambling for the first idea that occurred to him. Behind them, Shaw scoffed incredulously. “And I’m flying off tomorrow. But I can’t leave without telling you how I really feel.”
“This is ridiculous,” he heard Emma telling Shaw.
Erik pressed on; it was easier to speak now that his statements were rooted in truth. “We’ve known each other for the longest time and...I admire you, Charles. I admire everything about you: your strength, your kindness, the way you can look at something complex and understand it immediately. You’re brilliant.” Erik was referring to their tougher cases, but anyone else listening could very well apply it to the two doctorates under Charles’ belt. “I would get extremely angry with myself if I didn’t at least try to tell you how I feel.”
Now they could hear Shaw clearing his throat impatiently . He was smiling at Erik and Charles, but his eyes were cold. “Clearly you lovebirds need to sort this out.” Every single word was encased in ice. “Emma, let’s leave Dr. Xavier to his...predicament. We have other people to meet. Come along, Janos.”
“Are you sure, Sebastian?” she asked, but he was already walking off with Janos.
Letting out a loud huff, Emma shot Erik and Charles murderous glares before trailing after Sebastian Shaw, her movements tight with barely-contained fury. An ever-vigilant Darwin and Scott nimbly followed suit, staying out of sight.
Once they were gone, Erik knelt down before Charles’ chair so that they were of a height. The muddied confusion in Charles’ eyes had finally cleared as he blinked repeatedly. Erik?
Erik had never been so glad to have Charles inside his head again. He remembered how he’d lashed out against it the first time, deeply distrustful of telepaths. Now, there was no one he trusted more than Charles. Welcome back, old friend.
What happened? Now Charles’ eyes were the sharp, brilliant blue Erik was so familiar with, free of whatever manipulative spell Emma had woven earlier. Wait, did we kiss? Where is Shaw?
“I’ll tell you everything,” Erik said, suddenly exhausted. “Let’s just….get out of here.”
* * *
The post-operation investigation produced results that had not surprised Erik in the least. Shaw and his crew had vanished from the Marriott mere seconds after leaving the Ballroom, and Darwin had managed to catch a glimpse of their teleporter. “It was a red dude in a devil costume,” he’d insisted, to much ridicule and disbelief. Only Alex had believed him, which went a long way in soothing Darwin’s grumpiness.
INTERPOL shared their dossier on Emma Frost, which had shed some light on what had happened at the ball. With her dual mutations, Emma Frost had indeed managed to block off Charles’ telepathy and isolate him from the squad, and she would have succeeded in completely brainwashing Charles if his powers hadn’t been a level above hers. Her intent - and Shaw’s - had been to teleport Charles away and hold him for ransom. Still, Erik highly doubted they would have gotten that far, once Charles regained the use of his abilities. There was talk from INTERPOL that Shaw possessed a device that would render him invulnerable to telepathy, but Erik would believe it only when he saw it.
It was disheartening that Shaw had once more slipped through their fingers, but at least they now had new intel for their files. Sebastian Shaw would resurface again one day, undoubtedly, and this time both Erik and Charles would be ready for Shaw and his crew.
By Christmas eve, things had somewhat returned to normal. “I still can’t believe you did that,” Charles said, cocooned in the safety of his couch. Unwilling to piss off Captain Oliver with more overtime, they had headed back to Charles’ apartment to finish up the paperwork over Thai take-out and Charles’ Netflix list auto-playing in the background.
Next to him, Erik looked over at Charles with a pen in his mouth, eyebrows quirked. “Did what?”
“You know what.” Charles’ face reddened here, and Erik caught glimpses of his own very dramatic and very public confession, complete with an unexpected kiss. Feeling his own face grow hot, Erik turned back to face the TV. It was some older movie with Brad Pitt and Anthony Hopkins.
“I had to think,” Erik said a little too slowly. “We were running out of time, and we couldn’t communicate telepathically with you. I-- we had to get you out of Shaw’s clutches.”
Charles nodded thoughtfully, but he didn’t say anything, telepathically or otherwise. Erik wasn’t sure if he’d overstepped any boundaries, because he knew Charles hated being dependent on anyone or anything. For such a generous man, Charles Xavier was almost pathologically afraid of being a burden to anyone else.
“I know I promised I wouldn’t read anything in your mind beyond surface emotions,” Charles said quietly. “But right now, you’re practically, uh, shouting out what you’re thinking. So I’m just going to address the pink elephant in the room.”
Erik winced. “Charles, don’t--”
“You’re right, I don’t like being dependent on anyone,” Charles continued, as though Erik hadn’t spoken. “I hate that people see the chair first before they see me. As a person. And as a telepath, the worst thing is confirming that most people really do see the chair before they see you.”
Upon their first meeting, Erik had thought a great many things. About Charles’ smile, his eyes, those ridiculously muscled arms. Many of his thoughts had been unsavoury, but none of them had been about the chair.
Now Charles had turned to face him, resting his hand on Erik’s knee. The warmth of his palm burned through the thick denim of Erik’s jeans. “I know you’d-- you’d never reduced me to being just a chair, to being some know-it-all telepath.” A corner of Charles’ mouth quirked up. “No matter how many times you have called me one.”
Erik allowed a brief smile. His hands were locked together tightly, tethering him to the one place more familiar to him than his own apartment.
“So please, Erik, don’t be afraid of your actions at the ball. I-- I know it was difficult for you.” Charles’ smile turned a little sad. “All your thoughts of it are coloured with regret. But I understand now. We’ve always had each other’s backs. You were doing for me what I would have done for you, if you’d gotten into trouble.”
Erik gave him a shaky nod. “I never wanted you to feel like--” --like you needed rescuing, he finished lamely, retreating to his mental voice.
I didn’t. To Erik’s surprise, Charles ran a hand through Erik’s hair, eventually cupping his cheek. Erik’s skin burned in the wake of Charles’ touch. But...I’m hoping you meant the other things you were saying at the party.
Their foreheads tipped together, Erik allowed himself to be enveloped in the great wave of Charles’ trust, affection and admiration for Erik, but under the surface there was something deeper, something that Erik now saw had always been there.
Unfortunately for you, I very much did, Erik thought, making Charles sputter with surprised laughter. He drew him close, pressing their lips together and trying not to sigh as Charles let him in completely, wholly.
Technically, it wasn’t their first kiss. But it was the one Erik would remember, at least.