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Charles had always been a stress eater. The older he got the more his metabolism slowed, and he was starting to find pudge where he usually didn’t have it. Like when he buttoned his trousers, he was finding a bit of overflow on the top. And alright, he’d always been baby-faced, but today though, today, oh lord, he was looking positively bloated. Charles poked at his cheek and scowled at his reflection in the mirror.
Erik was occupied with the closet (Charles had checked), which gave him time to turn around and inspect his backside.
Augh. His ass was spreading. And it jiggled. Obscenely. You’ve let yourself go, Xavier, he lamented.
“What are you doing?
“What?” Charles said, startled. “Oh, nothing, nothing at all.”
Erik quirked an eyebrow, which always made him look smug. It was as infuriating as it was attractive.
“Shall we go down to breakfast, then?”
“Fine.”
Breakfast. Food. Charles needed a cup of Earl Grey badly because Erik was...appraising his newly acquired chub. It was equal parts embarrassing and hot.
“Magda gained weight when she was pregnant too,” Erik reassured him, “Don’t be so self-conscious about it.” It struck Charles how unbothered Erik was with the confession. Well, maybe not unbothered, but he was comfortable enough with the present to divulge his past. Charles had to discreetly wipe away a tear.
“Oh, ha. Well. Not everybody’s built like a greyhound like you," Charles grumbled under his breath.
“You must be hungry, you’re never naturally this grumpy. Come on, I can smell bacon.”
“You’re supposed to be Jewish.”
“Funny, it’s not the worst thing I’ve done,” Erik pointedly glanced at Charles’ midsection.
Charles despaired when Erik sat him down the kitchen table and immediately shoveled a plateful of eggs on his direction, but what else was he to say?
Erik, darling, I’m sorry. That day in Cuba I told you I was pregnant? I lied. Men can’t get pregnant. Good god, who taught you about sex? I need to have a word with them. Oh wait. Everyone you knew is dead. Never mind. That whole spiel about mutant reproduction? Complete and utter bullshit. I don’t have a uterus with which to host your undoubtedly vigorous sperm. Sorry. I just wanted you to stop throwing missiles at people and it was the first thing that came to mind because Evelyn from White Wives told her husband she was pregnant to keep him and then had a convenient miscarriage afterwards which is what I was planning to do this afternoon except you’ve roped Hank into giving an ultrasound and oh lord have mercy forgive me for my transgressions and other things, I may very well die of humiliation in a matter of hours.
“Whoa, slow down, Prof!” Alex laughed. Charles swallowed his bit of egg and flushed to the roots of his hair. He’d been trying in vain to curtail his embarrassing habit of overeating. Having a partner with the most impossible shoulder-to-waist ratio was making him aware just how unfit he was. It was so difficult to lose weight, however, when Erik kept on pushing food at him, and Charles continuously forgot why he was trying to stay fit when there were so many delicious things to consume.
“Don’t tease him, he’s eating for two,” Erik admonished. Charles almost choked on his tea.
The worst thing about this whole farce was that Erik wholeheartedly believed him and was ecstatic at having a second shot at family. It was everything Charles realized he ever wanted—a partner who doted on him, great sex, students to teach in the house he now considered home, a cause to believe in. Never mind the fact that keeping his secret to himself was causing him a great deal of worry, which translated to stress eating, which translated to fat but ultimately helped him disguise his pregnant condition (or lack thereof).
He’d tell Erik soon, he promised. Before the ultrasound.
It was time for the ultrasound.
Charles thought distantly about that day in Cuba, where he’d managed to sway Erik from committing mass murder, even with the helmet (bloody fucking tin bucket) by saying the most outrageous thing he could think of in response to Erik’s, “Give me one good reason why I should stop.”
Charles had a sense of humor at the worst of times, and coupled with the adrenaline and PTSD he suddenly remembered the Evelyn character from his mum’s favorite show. “If all else fails,” Sharon had drunkenly told him. “Ask yourself, what would Evelyn do?”
“I’m pregnant.”
Erik had stared agog at him for the longest time. The missiles fell into the water (Poor fish, Charles thought dazedly) and the mental tsunami of relief coming from the horizon was enough to make his knees buckle.
He may have passed out for a second there.
When he came to, Erik was holding him in his arms like Charles was some ridiculous swooning maiden. Fuck, Charles thought. I might as well complete the picture. Did I just quote a soap opera?
“Charles,” Erik frantically shook him, “Are you alright?”
“Takehngg.”
“What?”
“Isedhtekhelmof.”
“What?”
“Take the bloody helmet off!” Charles roared. Erik didn’t even hesitate.
The kids were incredulous once Erik announced they were adding a little person to the family.
“You’re kidding, right? Charles, I know for sure you’ve got a little dingdong.”
“For God’s sake, Raven,” Charles sighed for the umpteenth time. “It’s entirely possible.” Although highly, highly, ridiculously improbable. “I mean, you can turn bl—you can change the way you look, why are you questioning my reproductive capabilities?”
“Scientifically speaking, the professor is right,” Hank helpfully added. Charles made a mental note to praise the ground he walked on for the rest of his life. “It may very well be a mutation that was simply latent up to this point. Considering there are no other points of entry, his anus may act as a cloaca, like those of amphibians or birds, so with that logic—”
“La la la la!” Sean suddenly yelled out, plugging his ears. “Hank can you not talk about the prof’s anus?”
“On the contrary, I don’t think we talk about it enough.” A smirk was curling Erik’s lips. “It Is rather fetching, you know.”
Alex rolled his eyes, even if he was looking a little green around the gills himself.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Moira clapped her hands. She looked like a woman who had seen everything. “We’re all tired and cranky. This is going nowhere. Go back to your rooms and change out of your suits. We’ll...we’ll regroup in the morning.”
Everyone miraculously agreed and drifted off, one by one, back to their own rooms. Charles went to the kitchen to make himself a peanut butter sandwich, even if he had to fend off Erik’s amorous advances just to finish it.
Now, Hank was pouring cold gel onto his stomach. Erik beamed with pride and excitement, and this, this was the reason Charles hadn’t been able to speak a word to him at all the past four months he’d been charading as pregnant. Erik deserved so much more than the world had offered him thus far, and it had been such a blessing to find him so joyful and full of warm affection.
He was so much more playful now too. Charles had always been a farty kind of person. It was unfortunately tied to the oral fixation he regressed to when stressed, and between that and the weight gain, sometimes his stomach made funny noises. Erik would usually ignore them, but was just so excited about the baby he actually teased Charles about it making a helluva hullabaloo.
The reveal would crush him. Utterly.
“Oh, hey, I think I’ve found it,” Hank said. Charles had been too busy imagining the imminent divorce where Erik would dramatically walk away from him and whisper something heartbreaking like, “I thought we wanted the same thing.”
“Found what? What?”
“The baby,” Hank said slowly, like he was talking to a stupid person. Then he pointed to the screen.
Charles frowned. “Erik put you up to this, didn’t he? Very funny, you.”
“What’s funny? Should I be laughing?” Erik asked.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, you’d think I…” Charles trailed off as the image on the screen disappeared, following Hank’s removal of the ultrasound wand. He gaped like a fish at Erik, who gaped back at him in confusion. Then Charles grabbed Hank’s wrist and pressed the wand to his stomach, and the image on the screen reappeared. The moving, breathing, live-feed of a fetus apparently living inside him. It disappeared when he removed the wand and reappeared when he pressed it over a particular spot on his stomach.
“Oh dear god in heaven. That’s a baby.”
“Charles, it’s our baby,” Erik grinned tearily. Charles smiled shakily back and promptly passed out.
6 Months later…
Tiny, tiny fingers. Tiny, tiny toes. David Maximus Lehnsherr-Xavier had a complete set of each. He had Charles’ little rosebud mouth and his hair, but the theatricality for screaming bloody murder at night was all Erik.
“How did we get here?” Erik mused, cuddling David. He always was a family man.
Charles’ chest was starting to leak, and he’d be embarrassed about it if he wasn’t so tired. “Well, once upon a time, there was a stupid man trying to pull a submarine from the water…”
“Who was saved by another stupid man who jumped into the freezing Atlantic.”
“...Point. Give him here, he’s starting to get hungry.”
Erik kissed his temple and wrapped his arm warmly around Charles. “You once told me that true focus lies between rage and serenity. I’d always had rage, but now I think I’ve found serenity.”
“That lovely, dear,” Charles sighed, finally relieved of the shrieks of Erik's spawn. “Next time you can focus on making the babies.”
“I’d never be able to top your ‘I’m pregnant’ moment though.”
“No,” Charles thought in retrospect, flashing back to that first ultrasound. He still hadn’t told Erik about it actually. Tomorrow for sure. “I don’t think you ever could.”