Chapter Text
The rain started halfway to Mystique's house, stray sprinkles morphing into something steady and accelerating toward downpour. Erika cursed -- after she dropped Mystique off, she had another half-hour's drive in this mess.
“Come in and wait it out,” Mystique said.
“Are you sure? What about your sister? Will she mind?” Mystique's sister Charlotte, just returned after five years in California to take a job teaching at Columbia, was staying with Mystique until she found a place of her own.
“She won't mind. Besides, she's probably already asleep, old fart that she is.”
Erika refrained from pointing out a) that she was likely older than Charlotte, and b) that she'd usually be in bed herself by now, especially if she had court in the morning -- their meeting had run quite late.
When they got to Mystique's, Erika drove around to the back and pulled up under the small porte-cochère that should keep them mostly dry.
They hurried inside through a small utility room and into the kitchen. Mystique shed her jacket and hung it over a chair; after a moment's hesitation, Erika shrugged out of her coat and draped it over another chair.
She became aware of piano music in the background, soft and a little sad. Mystique noticed it, too, and she froze for a moment before smiling, a little overbrightly. “I guess you get to meet my sister after all. Come on.”
Erika hadn't even realized the music wasn't a recording.
She followed Mystique through the house to the living room, which was dominated by a baby grand. The lid was up, obscuring the pianist, but Erika could see a head of fluffy dark waves bowed over the keyboard and sense the distinctive metal shape of a wheelchair. The latter was unexpected; Mystique hadn't mentioned it.
Mystique started toward her sister, but Erika stopped her. “Let's listen,” she mouthed, pointing at the couch.
Mystique's golden eyes narrowed a bit, but she shrugged and led the way to the couch.
The view from the couch was no better, but the haunting music overrode Erika's curiosity about the player. She closed her eyes, letting her mind drift on the sweet but melancholy melody.
Mystique's sister continued her playing for a few minutes more, ending on a plaintive minor chord that echoed softly in the quiet room. Then Charlotte lifted her head, and Erika was transfixed.
She wasn't conventionally beautiful, but she was beautiful nonetheless. Her tousled dark hair, shot through with russet and gold, tumbled in soft waves nearly to her shoulders, framing her oval face. Her skin was porcelain, dusted liberally with tawny freckles; her lips were plush and vividly red; and her eyes, under delicately-winged dark brows, sparkled like star sapphires.
Her gaze met Erika's and held it. “Hello,” she said, her voice a warm alto with a distinctly English accent.
“Hi,” Erika said, feeling awkward.
“I'm Charlotte. Charlie.” She backed away from the piano and wheeled toward the sofa, giving Erika her first good look at the rest of her. Long, elegant neck. Strong shoulders. Slender. Wearing a scoop-necked red sweater dress that offered a tantalizing hint of cleavage.
“Erika.”
“A pleasure.” Charlie extended her hand, and Erika shook it. Charlie's grip was firm; her palm, lightly callused; her nails, of modest length, with a few chips in the crimson polish. “Raven didn't tell me she had a friend with such a spectacular MCR1 mutation.” At Erika's blank look, she explained. “Auburn hair. Yours is so vibrant.”
Erika had hated her hair color when she was younger, but as an adult, she had learned to embrace it. She fingered a lock and smiled.
“I'm a little jealous of how straight it is, though. It would take me a half-hour with a flat iron to get mine that straight,” Charlie said with a smile and a
sigh.
Erika chuckled. “It takes me almost an hour.” She might have said more, but her stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly, reminding her that “dinner” had been pretzels and dip at the meeting.
Charlie looked concerned. “Sounds like we need to feed you. Raven?”
Mystique nodded, rising to her feet. “I'll throw us together some sandwiches.” And she hurried off toward the kitchen.
“Would you like a drink?” Charlie asked.
“Please.”
Charlie turned and wheeled toward the sideboard. “Scotch all right?”
“Perfect.”
Charlie busied herself for a minute, glass clinking softly, then she turned and wheeled carefully back toward Erika, a pair of tumblers cradled against her chest.
A part of Erika wanted to rise and offer to take the drinks, but she sensed Charlie would neither want nor need the help, so she just sat and waited.
Charlie beamed at her. “Thank you. You have no idea how tired I get of people presuming I'm helpless.”
You don't look helpless, Erika thought. You look edible.
Charlie blushed to the low neckline of her dress, and Erika remembered belatedly what Mystique had told her, that Charlie was a telepath.
“I wasn't trying to listen in.” Charlie flashed her a reassuring smile. “You all but shouted that.”
Erika felt her face flame, knew it had to be as red as Charlie's. “Sorry,” she said, glancing away.
“Don't be,” Charlie said, stopping in front of Erika and holding out a tumbler. “I'm not.”
Erika accepted the scotch and took a nervous swallow; it went down smooth as velvet, glowed warmly in her stomach.
“I'm not,” Charlie repeated. ”It's not often I get that strong a reaction, especially from a beautiful woman.”
“I'm not beautiful,” Erika protested. “I'm too tall and gangly, and I've got a grin that scares people off.”
“She really does,” Mystique said, returning bearing a tray of roast beef sandwiches and potato chips. “She looks like a great white.” She set the food on the coffee table, took a plate, settled on the far end of the couch.
“I can't believe that,” Charlie said.
“Show her,” Raven said.
Erika sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Please,” Charlie said. “I promise you won't scare me away.” Her bright blue eyes were wide and earnest, and Erika was sure she could get lost in them.
Erika smiled slowly, her closed-lipped “safe” smile, then let it widen into her toothiest, sharkiest grin.
Charlie blinked, taken aback, then she offered a soft smile. “It's a bit intimidating, yes,” she said, “but I wouldn't call it scary.” I'd call it kind of sexy, she projected.
Erika blushed, and her grin widened a touch more. “It comes in handy cross-examining witnesses.” Are you flirting with me, Professor?
“I can see how it would.” Yes.
Good. Erika let her smile fade to something softer and warmer as she reached for a plate. Food first, then we can ditch your sister and get to know each other better.
Now it was Charlie's turn to blush and grin. Her eyes glittered like sapphires as she reached for the last plate. Sounds good.
Mystique sighed and rolled her eyes. “Charlie, stop making puppy eyes at my conference co-chair. I need her focused for the next five weeks. After that, I don't care what you two do.”
Erika glared at Mystique. “Back off. This isn't your call.”
Mystique didn't back down. “I know my sister, I know the look she was giving you, and I know what happens next.”
Erika couldn't deny she'd very much like that to happen, but she wasn't devoid of self-control. “Yes, I'd like to get to know your sister better,” she acknowledged, “but I don't have to jump her bones to do that. Give me some credit, Mystique.”
“I do, but I also know the power of my sister's baby blues. Just promise me you'll be careful.”
“We both will,” Charlie broke in and assured her sister.
Mystique didn't look convinced, but she said nothing more.
Charlie's smile was overbright and brittle as she said, “Now that that's settled, why don't you tell me what's going on with the conference.”
Erika launched into her most passionate description of the Mutant Rights Conference, with Mystique interjecting details and non-sequiturs. Charlie listened, asked questions, debated fiercely some of the political and social positions that she clearly didn't share with either Erika or Mystique. Erika had never met anyone else who engaged her so thoroughly, even if she was a hopeless integrationist.
The only moment where the conversation faltered was when Erika asked if Charlie would be attending.
Charlie stiffened, her sapphire eyes sparking like a deer's in headlights, then she smiled, sad and brittle. “No. I'm sorry, but I can't be there.”
Erika couldn't help but wonder about the haunted look on Charlie's face, but she wasn't going to push. “Sorry to hear that. Your presence will be missed.”
Charlie's smile grew wistful. “I do wish I could be there.”
“Maybe next time.”
Charlie said nothing, but Erika thought she saw the barest shake of her head.
“Anybody want dessert?” Mystique asked, a little too brightly, and this time Erika was sure she saw Charlie's faint sigh of relief at the subject change.
“I should really get going,” Erika said. It was just after midnight, and her drive home wasn't getting any shorter. Or drier. The rain was hard as ever, showing no signs of easing off.
“In this? Don't be silly,” Charlie said. “Just spend the night here.”
That would be easier. Erika glanced at Mystique for confirmation; it was her house, after all.
Mystique shrugged. “If you don't mind the couch. Charlie's got my only spare bed.”
“Which is more than big enough to share,” Charlie interjected.
Mystique rolled her eyes. “Charlie.”
“Just to sleep. I promise.”
A sigh. “Fine.” But she didn't look happy about it.
Charlie beamed. “Follow me, then.” She led Erika down a hallway to the room at the end.
What might have been a generic guest bedroom was anything but, decorated by Mystique's bold hand in jewel-toned blues and purples. Erika could see evidence of Charlie as well -- books and papers spread out on the desk, a small black pocketbook and a half-empty mug of tea on the nightstand, a set of leg braces propped in the corner.
Charlie went to the dresser, opened a middle drawer and pulled out a bundle of heathered grey fabric. She turned, held it out to Erika. “This sleep shirt should fit you.”
Erika took it. “Thank you.”
“I suggest you take the first turn in the bathroom -- it takes me a fair while.”
“Okay.”
By the time Erika emerged, Charlie had turned down the covers and retrieved night clothes for herself, a small bundle of satiny blue sitting in her lap.
Charlie smiled at her. “Go ahead and get settled. I'll be out in a bit.”
Erika climbed into bed and pulled the covers over her bare legs; the sleep shirt barely came past the tops of her thighs -- one of the disadvantages of being six feet tall. She rummaged in her bag, withdrew her book and her glasses, knowing there was no point in trying to sleep yet.
Erika read two chapters before Charlie returned. She glanced up as Charlie wheeled in, and her mouth went dry. Charlie was stunning in a hip-length spaghetti-strap cobalt satin nightgown and matching panties. Her skin was palest ivory, so translucent her cheeks appeared rouged, dusted liberally with tawny freckles. Her eyes glowed bright, echoing the shade of her clothing. Her legs were slender but not wasted; her shoulders and arms, full of quiet strength.
She blushed under Erika's scrutiny, fair skin coloring to (past?) the plunging neckline of her nightgown. “You like what you see?” she asked, her voice full of warm humor.
“Very much,” Erila said. “I'm regretting the promise I made Mystique.”
Charlie's eyes took on a mischievous gleam. “ We promised to be careful. We didn't promise to be nuns.”
Erika grinned, full-teeth. “I like the way you think.”
Charlie's answering smile was broad, her ruby lips just begging to be kissed.
“May I kiss you?” Erika asked.
“Please do.”
Erika rose from the bed, closed the distance between them. She cupped Charlie's jaw in her hands, bent and pressed their lips together.
The kiss was gentle but by no means chaste. Charlie's lips parted willingly, and Erika revelled in the taste of her, earthy and sweet and a little wild.
Charlie's hands gripped Erika's hips, holding her in place as the kiss deepened. Erika was grateful, as her knees were growing wobbly. Charlie's kiss was like a drug, making her head light and her stomach fluttery.
But like all good things, the kiss eventually came to an end. Erika straightened but didn't step back, still savoring Charlie's almost magnetic pull. She gazed deep into Charlie's too-blue eyes, dazed and hungry both.
Charlie's lips were swollen and had darkened almost to burgundy. All Erika wanted was to kiss them again. “Wow,” she exhaled.
Charlie nodded, looking equally dazed. “Wow indeed.” Then she sighed and glanced at the slim gold watch on her right wrist. “Much as I'd like to spend the rest of the night making love with you, I've got an appointment in the morning I can't afford to miss.”
Erika sighed, nodded agreement. “And I've got a ton of work sitting on my desk, both for my day job and for the conference.” She glanced at the bed. “Can we at least cuddle?”
“I'd like that,” Charlie said. “Though I'd better warn you I'll have to wake up and turn over a couple of times during the night.”
Erika looked down at Charlie, not missing her unease. “Okay,” she said, her voice quiet and serious. “I'm good with whatever you need.”
Charlie smiled softly. “Thank you. Not everyone is so understanding.”
“Then they're idiots,” Erika declared. She glanced at the bed. “Shall we?”
“Let's.” But before Charlie could move, Erika kissed her again.
This kiss was as savage as the first had been tender, the two of them devouring each other, fighting for dominance. Erika's hands buried themselves in Charlie's silky curls; Charlie's arms circled Erika's waist, pulling her in with bruising strength.
After an eternal moment, they separated, breathless, but stayed close, Erika still in Charlie's embrace, her hands still in Charlie's hair.
“So much for our promise to your sister,” Erika said with a soft chuckle.
“Indeed.” Charlie's blue eyes gleamed, and her kiss-bruised lips curved in an amused smile. Then she sighed, looking a little frustrated, a little regretful. “But I still need to ask for a rain check. I don't dare miss that meeting.”
“Understood.” Erika stroked Charlie's cheek. “Let's get somr sleep. We can figure out the rest tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Charlie murmured. “That sounds lovely.”
Erika straightened, loosing Charlie only reluctantly, and retreated to her side of the bed. She walked backward, unwilling to look away from Charlie, managing somehow to not run into anything. Only to sit on her glasses.
Her cheeks flamed as she yanked them out from under her thigh. She held them up to her face, inspecting the frames.
“Are they okay?” Charlie's voice sounded both concerned and amused.
“Yeah.” Erika folded the stems and set her glasses on the nightstand.
“Good.” Charlie wheeled over to her side of the bed. Erika watched as she planted her fists on the mattress and swung her body around onto the bed. The move was smooth, practiced, graceful. She scooted backward, turned, then lifted her legs one at a time, arranging them straight out in front of her. She looked over at Erika, a little uncertain. “This really doesn't bother you?” she asked, gesturing at her unmoving legs.
Erika held her gaze. “No. Never.” She reached over, took Charlie's hand. “But I take it it's bothered others."
Charlie nodded. “Even those who think they aren't often feel differently when confronted with the reality.”
“And as a telepath, you know what they're really thinking."
“Yeah.”
Erika set her hand on Charlie's thigh. Her skin was warm and satiny-smooth, and though Erika knew she wouldn”t feel it, she gave Charlie's leg a gentle squeeze. “That's not me.”
Charlie covered Erika's hand with her own. “I know. Thank you.”
“No thanks necessary.” She turned her hand over and folded it around Charlie's.
Charlie squeezed her hand. “Nonetheless.” Then she sighed. “Much as I'd love to continue this, I really do need to sleep.”
Erika squeezed back. “To be continued.”
Charlie smiled and laid back against her pillow.
“Can we still cuddle?”
“Gladly.”
Erika slid over until she was snuggled up against Charlie's side, curled her arm around Charlie's waist.
“Move your arm up a little,” Charlie directed. “I can't feel it down there.”
Erika moved her arm up a few inches.
Charlie gave a contented sigh and closed those lovely eyes.
A smile crept onto Erika's lips as she closed her own eyes then put out the light with a flick of her powers.