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Chapter Text

“Dad!” one of the twins landed on him with a thump. Judging by the higher pitched voice and the face full of hair it was Wanda.

“Wanda, darling,” Erik said, pushing her hair out of his mouth. “I’m pretty sure it’s much too early for you to be waking Dad up on a Saturday.”

“But Da-aad,” she said, pushing against his chest to sit up, her knees digging into his stomach. “There’s a man moving in next door.”

“That’s what normally happens when someone buys a house,” Erik said, staring fuzzily up at her.

“But don’t you want to see?” Wanda asked, eyes wide with excitement. Erik sighed.

Their last neighbour had been there when they moved in and therefore this was Wanda’s first experience with a new neighbour. No doubt Pietro was already pressed against the front window, smudging the glass with his nose, watching everything.

“Alright, alright,” Erik said, tickling Wanda’s sides until she rolled off his chest, giggling. He climbed out of bed and rubbed a hand through his hair, trying to make it stay down at the back.

Erik crossed to the window and drew the curtain back, peering out and to the left. There was, indeed, a Pickfords lorry in the street. A pretty blonde woman was directing the movers as they carried things out of the lorry. Erik smiled as she slapped one of the men on the shoulder when he nearly dropped a box.

A man in a tweed jacket, about Erik’s age, emerged from the other side of the lorry, waving apologetically to the obstructed traffic. His dark hair flopped over his forehead as he moved his head back and forth, calling out to the woman.

“Dad, I want to see,” Wanda tugged on his trouser leg. He lifted her up and settled her against his hip even though she and her brother were both far too big for such a thing.

Wanda rested her chin on his shoulder and watched attentively. She made a delighted noise and pointed when two movers began to manoeuvre a tall upright piano out of the lorry. Erik winced when the piano slipped and nearly fell to the ground. The woman was shouting at the movers and Erik had lost sight of the man.

“Daaaad!” Pietro’s voice echoed up the stairs. “The man is coming here.”

“What?” Erik said, startled.

“He said the man is coming here,” Wanda repeated, rolling her eyes.

“I know what he said,” Erik said, setting Wanda down and frantically trying to find some clean clothes. “I just don’t know why –”

The doorbell rang and Erik startled again, Pietro’s shout of ‘I’ll get it!’ once against echoing up the stairs.

“Pietro – don’t –” Erik almost fell over in his haste, tangling himself in his pyjama bottoms.

“S’okay, Dad,” Wanda said, bouncing off the bed. “I’ll stall him.”

“Where did you even learn what that means?” Erik called after her as she bounced out of the room. He took a deep breath and steadied himself as he heard Pietro opening the door.

--

Erik arrived downstairs without further incident, pausing only once on the stairs when he realised his t-shirt was on backwards, and walked down the hall to join his children. Wanda was apparently telling his new neighbour about everything she’d learnt in school the past week – Erik couldn’t help but feel a small pang of pride.

The man seen closer was more handsome than Erik felt he could confidently deal with at that time of the morning. He had his bright blue eyes focused on Wanda even though Pietro was swinging the door impatiently behind her. The man leant against the doorjamb as easily as if he had always been there and Erik felt himself unconsciously swallow.

“Here he is,” Pietro said when he spotted Erik, rudely interrupting his sister as usual. Wanda stomped on his foot and Pietro managed to pinch her once before Erik swiftly moved between them.

“Ah, you do look strong,” the man said and, damn him, Erik could feel a flush rise up his neck. “I mean, sorry, my name is Charles Xavier – your new neighbour.”

“Erik,” Erik said, clasping the out-stretched hand. Charles smiled at him and Erik found himself returning it for no reason he could detect.

“Your son told me that you were very strong,” Charles said, nodding at Pietro.

“Did he now?” Erik asked, looking down at Pietro who shrug.

“I told him that I needed someone to help me with my piano,” Charles said with a similar shrugged. He leant forwards conspiratorally and Erik fond himself mirroring the movement. “I don’t exactly trust my movers – they’ve already nearly dropped it once.”

“I saw,” Erik said before he could stop himself. This time the smile that flashed across Charles’ face was slightly different, pleased rather than pleasing.

“Do you think you could possibly help?” Charles asked. “I think between four of us we should be able to manage it.”

“I shouldn’t leave the children –” Erik said, hesitant.

“Oh, not to worry, my sister can look after them for a while,” Charles waved a hand dismissively and called over his shoulder: “Raven! Stop shouting at those poor men and come here for a moment.”

The blonde woman joined them while Erik was still trying to tamp down the spark of pleasure that had ignited in his chest when Charles said ‘sister’. They didn’t look very much alike at all but they behaved just as sibling-like as Erik’s children.

“Raven, this is Erik, Erik – my sister, Raven,” Charles said, waving between them.

“Only on a technicality,” Raven said, grinning.

“A point of which she never tires of reminding me,” Charles said, rolling his eyes. “Erik has agreed to help us if you mind his children for a few minutes.”

“Sure,” Raven said and Erik realised her accent was American rather Oxbridge like her brother’s. “That’s pretty good of you.”

“Well –” Erik started to say that he hadn’t agreed to anything but Charles’ hand was already wrapping around his elbow and Wanda was handing him his trainers and he was being tugged out the doorway before he’d even registered what had happened.

“Do tell me if I’m being to forward,” Charles said, squeezing Erik’s elbow once before letting go. “I’m afraid I can be somewhat socially awkward at times.”

“It’s alright,” Erik said, taking a moment to push his feet into his trainers. “I’m not entirely awake enough to mind.”

“Excellent,” Charles said, clapping his hands together and laughing. “Now I know the best time of day to ask for a cup of sugar.”

“Does anyone even do that anymore?” Erik asked, following Charles down his path. “It seems a little old-fashioned.”

“You’ll find I can be quite old-fashioned,” Charles said over his shoulder. “I hope you won’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Erik said, absently petting his hair down again. “I like old-fashioned things.”

“Then we shall get along splendidly, my friend,” Charles said, flashing that pleased smile again. Erik felt a small bloom of heat in his heart and fought to press it down again

There was no way he was prepared for this.

--

“I’m a professor,” Charles said as they joined the two moving men at the piano.

“Sorry?” Erik asked. He wasn’t quite awake enough to follow Charles’ conversation leaps.

“You were, ah, probably wondering what brings me to Oxford,” Charles said. Erik wondered for a moment at the way Charles had edited himself mid-sentence before nodding his agreement.

“Aren’t you a little young?” Erik asked as Charles braced himself at one end of the piano.

“I’m terribly smart,” Charles said with a smile. He jerked his head to his left and Erik joined him, looking for good handholds.

“And modest?” Erik asked, unable to stop himself. Charles retorted with another smile. Erik had never seen someone so free with their smiles.

“That too,” Charles said, nodding to the movers.

The four of them bent their knees and raised the piano slowly. Then began the peculiarly shuffling walk of four men desperately trying not drop something that was probably worth more than they earned in a year.

“My field is genetics,” Charles continued as they made their way cautiously up the path. “The mutations thereof, to be specific, and how they apply to evolution. Evolutionary genetic mutation, I suppose, would be the best way to put it.”

“Right,” Erik said, adjusting his grip slightly as they neared the door. “You’d be working at the Wellcome, then?”

“I have been lucky enough to secure a position there, yes,” Charles nodded, a trace of surprise in his voice. As if it was possible to live in Oxford and not know anything about the University buildings.

“They gave me my own department,” Charles added. “You go through the door first, gentlemen, I’ll guide you.”

“That must be nice for you,” Erik said as they manoeuvred the piano through the wide doorway. Charles laughed.

“There’s no need to pretend interest, my friend,” Charles said, shaking his head. “A little to the left please. Your other left! Raven calls me a bore often enough for me to believe it.”

“No, no,” Erik said, determined not to make a false impression on this ridiculously attractive man. “I’m sure it’s fascinating – but it really is too early in the morning.”

“Well, I – thank you,” Charles said, suddenly flustered. He coughed and looked away from Erik. “Perhaps we could discuss it over a pint or five some time. I’m reliably informed I’m a good speaker.”

“I’m not surprised,” Erik said, mostly to himself, but Charles laughed again and nudged him companionably with a shoulder. Erik fought down a blush and focused on the house.

The hallway was a lot wider than his own, his footsteps echoing on dark wooden floorboards, but light and airy owing to a skylight far above them. Plush carpeted stairs climbed up to the first floor, bordered by an ornate carved banister.

“Through here please,” Charles said to the movers, indicating with his head the wide entrance of the front room. “Raven likes the idea of entertaining,” he added to Erik. “She’s a fine player but I fear if you’re looking for old-fashioned sentiments you need look no further than her concept of the professorial life. She watches too many films.”

Erik had half hoped Charles was the player, sparing a brief thought for those fingers caressing the keys, and in a way it surprised him that it was Raven.

“She gives off a studied air of energy,” Charles said as they set the piano in one corner of the room. “That will do, gentlemen, I’m sure Erik won’t mind helping me shift it when Raven eventually decides where she wants it.”

The movers returned to their lorry and Charles brushed a hand over the lid of the piano.

“The piano is one of the few things my sister allows herself to be patient about,” Charles said, tilting a half smile up at Erik. “You should hear her play sometime.”

“I’d like that,” Erik said, honestly.

“And what about you?” Charles asked, leaning one hip against the piano and tucking his hands into his pockets. “What keeps you and your lovely children in hearth and home?”

“I,” Erik ducked his head, embarrassed as always. “I’m a sculptor. Metal, mostly.”

“You must be very good to afford such a home,” Charles said, curiosity in his tone. “Would I know your work?”

“I sell under a pseudonym,” Erik said, shrugging. “I do well enough.”

“You’re going to make me find this out on my own, aren’t you?” Charles asked, eyes sparking with amusement.

“That’s – I wasn’t –” Erik stumbled over his words.

“Excellent! I do enjoy a challenge,” Charles said, reaching a hand out and squeezing Erik’s shoulder. “I think I’ll enjoy this one very much.”

Charles bounced out of the room and Erik stared, bewildered, after him

“It is far to early in the morning for this,” Erik said, following him after a moment. Wanda and Pietro were good enough to allow him to sleep on weekends, fixing their own cereal and peacefully watching cartoons until at least ten. This was not supposed to be interrupted by handsome men needing help with pianos.

--

By mid-morning Erik had found himself roped into carrying box upon box into the house for Raven whilst Charles supervised the men outside. Charles had set up a small portable TV in the front room and Wanda and Pietro, still in their pyjamas, were curled up together in front of it. It was an act of consideration Erik wasn’t used to people making for his children and if it had warmed his heart a little more to Charles then that wasn’t entirely his fault.

“I’m taking you all for lunch, by the way,” Charles said as he handed Erik the fifth box marked ‘Library’.

“Sorry?” Erik looked at Charles with confusion. He’d been allowed a moment to change into some more hard-wearing clothes but he wasn’t entirely sure he was completely awake.

“It’s the least I can do for ruining your morning,” Charles said with another easy smile. “It will go some of the way to repaying your kindness.”

“Oh,” Erik said, blinking. Kind was never a label he’d become accustomed to people using for him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t even consider mentioning it,” Charles said, shaking his head, a note of sadness briefly in his tone. “As I said – it’s the least I can do.”

Erik had only met one person in his life who read him as easily as Charles. It had taken Magda years and Charles moments.

--

Lunch was in a bright café Charles had described himself as fond of. The manager had recognised Charles and been happy to accommodate the five of them. When Charles declared the meal on him Erik warned the twins that they’d have to eat all of anything they ordered if they wanted to have ice cream after. It restricted their more fanciful imaginings.

Wanda seemed completely charmed by Charles, a sensation Erik was finding difficult to combat himself. Charles had easy smiles and a bright sense of humour to go with them, the opposite of his sister’s dry wit, and a way with words that Erik could only describe as delightful. The men he’d gone to war with would have found this train of thought hilarious, he knew, but there were no other words for Charles.

Pietro, on the other hand, seemed rather less enchanted and leaning definitely towards jealous. He wasn’t used to anyone other than Erik commanding so much of Wanda’s attention. Heaven help him when Wanda was old enough to start finding romantic interest in people, all Erik could hope is that Pietro would develop at the same time otherwise he suspected World War Three would erupt between his two very gifted children.

As if sensing Erik’s train of thought Charles smiled at him over his tea and turned his attention to Pietro, gently drawing from him details of his favourite subjects at school. Erik barely suppressed some sort of sigh, lazy contentment seeping into his bones.

“You’re not alone,” Raven said beside him. Erik startled slightly, wondering if she’d been talking to him for very long. A touch of her hand to his upper arm and a brief, smiling, shake of her head suggested not.

“Charles,” she said by way of explanation to a question Erik hadn’t even asked himself. “He charms people and he’s really good at it. Pretty helpful when he’s trying to get funding.”

An irrational stab of jealousy cut into Erik’s heart at the thought of Charles leaning into someone’s space, making them the focus of all his laughing attention. Charles’ foot kicked against his own under the table and Charles grimaced an apology at him from across the table.

“He’s – something,” Erik agreed and Raven offered him an odd smile in return, almost as odd as Erik felt.

“He’s been good to me when he didn’t really have to be,” Raven said, stirring her straw around her Coke glass. At Erik’s querying look she added: “Different Dads. He grew up here, I didn’t. There was this whole thing. Anyway, I just – he’s good person. Is what I’m saying.”

Erik didn’t really have any idea what Raven was talking about but he nodded anyway, gratified when some of the oddness slipped out of her smile. She patted his arm again and turned her attention back to her food.

Erik caught Charles’ eyes again, something strange ghosting through them, and felt a small shiver twist down his spine. Something beyond his control had begun that morning and Erik was a little afraid of where it was going to take him.

--

“Erik!”

Erik was walking down Queen Street when someone hailed him over the bustle of people. He paused and turned, unused to being recognised, and saw Charles jogging towards him, tweed jacket flapping around him. Erik suppressed a laugh at just how very Oxford Charles was. He must’ve been smiling when Charles arrived in front of him because Charles reflected half of it back at him.

“What?” Charles asked, brushing a hand through his hair, pushing it back into place.

“Nothing,” Erik said, shaking his head but unable to dislodge the smile. “I’m not used to seeing Professors running about, I suppose.”

“Well, I suppose they aren’t usually as virile as I am,” Charles shrugged casually, his smile breaking full across his face. Erik couldn’t suppress the laugh.

“I wonder if they’re as modest,” he said, just loud enough for Charles to hear. He turned and felt gratified when Charles fell into step with him, their footsteps in sync.

“Couldn’t possibly be, my friend,” Charles nudged him with an elbow and Erik shook his head to the sound of Charles’ laughter. “And where are you off to today, Erik? I must admit some curiosity as to what a sculptor does when he isn’t sculpting.”

“Searches for inspiration, mostly,” Erik said with a shrug. “But in my case; today I’m looking for a new school bag for Wanda. She gave specific instructions but I’m afraid I’m coming up blank.”

“This would be the faux vintage Spitfire bag, wouldn’t it?” Charles asked, brushing a hand through his hair again. Erik stopped. A hubcap popped off a passing car and rattled down the street, startling Charles.

“How did you know that?” Erik asked, narrowing his eyes.

“It’s nothing untoward,” Charles said, immediately gripping Erik’s elbow. “Wanda simply has a voice that carries, particularly when your windows are open.”

“I’m sorry,” Erik said after a moment, tension easing out of his body. There was something unnaturally calming about Charles’ hand on his arm.

There had been a time when Erik would have broken the arm of anyone who touched him, revelled in the sharp snap of the bones under his hands, every inch a weapon, a sharpened blade. Bright and cruel.

Charles’ grip moved towards something between a pat and a caress and the sudden memory retreated to where it belonged. Erik refocused on Charles’ face, feeling his neck redden at the open concern there. He pulled his arm away.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Charles said, shaking his head. “Your children are charming.”

“They talk a lot,” Erik said, pulling a breath through himself.

“And they are excellent conversationalists,” Charles said with a smile, tucking his hands into his pockets. He turned his shoulders and Erik took the signal to fall in beside him. He was still uneasy, too many odd things happening in succession, but for all that Charles unbalanced him Erik found himself wanting his company.

“You know,” Charles said thoughtfully, a finger stroking at his temple. “I have an idea where we might find Wanda’s wished for bag.”

“Are you alright?” Erik asked as Charles led him down a side street, instead of asking himself why he didn’t protest a) the help or b) the ‘we’.

“Sorry?” Charles looked up at Erik. Erik half raised a hand before clenching his fingers and drawing it back.

“You touch your temple,” Erik said, gesturing to his own temple. “Quite lot, actually. Do you get headaches?”

“What? Oh, no, no, no more than usual,” Charles said, eyes sliding sideways. “Just an old habit. A bad one, probably, but that’s all.”

“Right,” Erik said, unable to shake the feeling that Charles was stretching the truth.

“Do you fancy a drink after,” Charles said, still partially turned away. “I have a free afternoon and I’d love to –”

“I can’t,” Erik said. Charles’ shoulders slumped so briefly that it was nothing more than a ghost of movement in Erik’s vision. “I mean – I don’t like drinking when I’ve got to pick up the kids, not that I wouldn’t like to get a drink some time.”

“Tonight?” Charles asked, tilting his face up to Erik again.

“I’d need to find someone to look after the kids,” Erik said, wondering at how easy it was for him to want it, a drink with Charles.

“Raven isn’t working tonight,” Charles said. “I’m sure she’d be happy to do it. She’s always got along very well with children.”

“The kids do like her,” Erik allowed. Charles began to smile. “What?”

“I can tell you’re going to say yes,” Charles said, holding the smile.

“You’re insufferable,” Erik said, snorting. Charles’ smile widened into blinding.

“Normally it takes a lot longer for people to realise that,” Charles said, patting Erik on the shoulder. “Now,” he added, clapping his hands together: “As we both know you’re going to say yes – shall we go and find that school bag for Wanda?”

Erik allowed himself to be dragged along in Charles’ wake, helpless in the face of such a huge amount of charm. Charles shared stories of his student days and Erik nodded, unable stop the vague feeling of amazement at a culture that still remained so foreign to him.

The man was incredible.

--

“So, mutation, right,” Charles leant one elbow heavily on the bar and gestured with his free hand.

“Your speciality,” Erik said, nodding. They were several drinks into the evening and Charles’ loose conversational style was as intoxicating as the whiskey they’d moved on to.

“My,” Charles said, touching his chest with his fingers, “speciality. Exactly. It’s fascinating.”

“I’m sure it is,” Erik said, non-committal. He slid a finger around the rim of his glass before drinking, trying to ignore the sensation of Charles’ focus on his hands.

“It’s what took us from single celled organisms to the dominant form of reproductive life on this planet,” Charles said, leaning into Erik’s space.

“I’m not going to argue evolution with you, Charles,” Erik said, suppressing a smile.

“Infinite forms of variation with each generation,” the words tumbled out of Charles’ mouth like prepared material. “All through mutation.”

Charles held Erik’s eyes as he raised his own glass and swallowed down half of his drink. Erik blinked and realised that it wasn’t material for a lecture, as he’d assumed, it was a line. He almost laughed and put a stop to it but he had to admit, at least to himself, that he wanted to see how far Charles would run with it.

“In fact – you and I share a mutation,” Charles said, wincing when a bar stool scraped loudly across the floor behind them.

“Do go on,” Erik said, tightening his fingers about his glass for a moment. Charles reached out a hand and touched a finger to the edge of one of Erik’s eye sockets, tracing it gently. Erik felt himself grow warm under the touch.

“Blue eyes,” Charles said, drawing his hand back and smiling. “One of the older mutations and one that suits you very well.”

Charles’s eyes closed briefly for a moment, a soft smile curling around his lips, and Erik wanted nothing more than to fall into him then and there, caution be damned.

“Another drink?” he said instead, pulling back the hand he’d unconsciously reached out as Charles’ eyes came open again.

“Allow me,” Charles said, two fingers brushing past his temple again. “Shots?”

“You read my mind,” Erik said, mouth twisting up into a smile. Charles’ echoing smile cracked slightly around the edges for the briefest of moments.

“Shots,” Charles nodded, turning to hail the barman.

Erik watched him in profile as he perused the selection of shots available. It had been a long time since he’d had such a powerful attraction to anything. He tried to wrap the feelings up and trap them in one of the boxes stored at the back of his mind for such things but it was beginning to seem impossible.

Charles was a risk, an uncalculated, unlooked for risk, but Erik found himself almost completely unable to care. His children liked Charles and their tastes had always proved impeccable. But Charles was still a risk to everything he’d built, disrupting his stability.

Charles was clearly bad for his judgement.

--

“You’re ex-military, I think,” Charles said when they’d moved to a booth, the world wobbling too much from their stools. It was a credit to how much they’d drunk that Erik didn’t flee at the suggestion.

He found he’d long since resigned himself to Charles being able to pull any information from him that he wished. It didn’t mean that he had to make it easy for him, however.

“What gave you that impression?” Erik asked, following the question with a thoughtful swallow of lager. He’d managed to nurse the pint for nearly an hour, trying retain some of his wits.

“Well,” Charles said, straightening out of the slump he'd slid into over the past half hour. He was closer than Erik had realised and he missed the beginning of Charles’ hypothesis whilst distracted by the sudden press of Charles’ thigh against his.

“- erect carriage is something I’ve always associated with soldiers, also the wariness that never seems to leave a man who knows what it is to fight for his life,” Charles was saying as Erik managed to tune back in. “And, of course, when Raven was minding Wanda and Pietro the other day she did see your passing out photo.”

“That’s cheating,” Erik said, feeling slightly betrayed. Charles laughed and touched a casual hand to his wrist.

“Life isn’t fun without a little cheating,” he said, eyes dark shadows in the dim lighting. His fingers lingered, tracing small circles on Erik’s skin, and seemed to draw the focus of all the evening down to those points. Erik swallowed and leant slightly into Charles –

“Time,” the barman said, the music going off as he rang a bell. Erik jerked back, pulling his hand away from Charles, deliberately missing the flicker disappointment in Charles’ eyes.

“I’ve stayed far too late for a school night,” Erik said, sliding his hand around his pint glass and lifting it to finish it off in one long swallow.

Charles was staring at him when he lowered the glass, looking slightly frayed around the edges and Erik was more than glad that Charles was obviously as affected by the evening as he was.

“My apologies,” Charles said, polishing off his own drink. “I’m afraid I can be tenacious when I find something interesting.”

“Interesting,” Erik repeated, turning his eyes away from Charles’ before he saw more than he wanted to see. Charles shifted into his space, his breath ghosting against Erik’s ear.

“I find you,” Charles said, slow words of honey dripping into Erik’s ear, “most extraordinarily interesting.”

If Erik turned his head just a fraction he’d be able to meet those lips and make good of the implicit intention in Charles’ words. He wanted it, oh how he wanted it, but the children –

“Would it be so bad of you to allow yourself this, something just for yourself?” Charles asked, once again proving himself more inside of Erik’s head that he could possibly be on so few meetings.

“You don’t understand,” Erik said, perhaps the most honest words he’d spoken that evening. “I can’t.”

“I hope you realise, my friend, that you can,” Charles lips pressed briefly at the soft spot behind Erik’s ear and Erik shivered. “My intentions are clear and when you feel able – you need only say the word.”

Erik did turn then and saw the promise in Charles’ eyes. Not a simply a promise of requited lust but something deeper, a wide open field of trust and belief and hope.

“Why?” Erik asked, unable to voice his confusion over the connection brewing between them in any other way.

“I do not honestly know,” Charles said, shrugging inelegantly. “But it is not something that I wish to deny.”

“I need time,” Erik said, breathing in the same air that Charles was breathing out, they were so close together.

“I will give you all the time you need,” Charles said, pressing their foreheads together for the briefest of moments. Erik trembled.

Time. There wouldn’t be the time. Because it was only a matter of time before Shaw came for him again, so much time had already passed since last time, and Erik knew Shaw knew where he was, knew he would come again.

Charles’ gasped breath puffed against Erik’s cheek and his hands gripped at Erik’s shoulders. Erik felt bruised and open, things rising in him that he had been certain were buried too deep to resurface.

“I promise you we will have time,” Charles said, and somehow it felt like he was speaking to Erik’s thoughts as well as his own.

“I hope so,” Erik said, letting Charles pass a hand over his neck, a soothing calm seeping into his bones.

“Hope is all I can ask for,” Charles said softly, leaning back and offering Erik a private smile he hadn’t seen before. Erik returned it shakily.

He was completely lost.

--

Cold walls. Steel grey but not steel. Mud on his boots. Sharp knives over pale flesh, not his flesh, knives he can’t turn away, he’s too afraid. He is gone.

Charles.

He comes back to himself. The pale face of the captor hangs over him. He is sneering.

You never should have left. This your fault.

Magda’s face, beautiful in death, taunting him.

But this isn’t it, this isn’t how it was. It was Shaw, Shaw hitting him and hitting him and then there is a man, all metal and edges that flicker in Erik’s mind, and Erik is running, unable to do anything, and he is searching, searching. Where are the children. WHERE ARE THE CHILDREN.

Wake up.

They are not in the cupboards of his childhood home.

Wake up.

They aren’t on the base, hidden in boxes.

Wake up.

He has them. Shaw has them. And he has Charles. And he will make them bleedchangehurtkill.

WAKE UP.

He wakes.

--

Calm your mind. The words rested on the edge of Erik’s mind as he tried to breathe. He half thought it was Charles’ voice; almost felt as thought Charles was in the room with him, soothing hands against his face. If Erik reached out –

“Dad?” Pietro’s voice, small and quiet, dispelled the lingering oddness in the air.

“You were screaming, Dad,” Wanda’s voice, only a little braver than her brother’s.

“Nightmare,” Erik admitted, pushing himself upright. The sheet was tangled about his legs and he struggled, panic sliding coldly down his spine.

“Yeah, we guessed that,” Pietro said as Wanda’s hands gently stilled his legs. She untangled them as Pietro climbed onto the bed, resting a cool hand against Erik’s neck. Erik felt the panic subside.

“Deep breaths, Dad,” Wanda said, smoothing the sheet flat and climbing up beside him. She pushed his hair, thick with sweat, back from his eyes and smiled at him in the moonlight.

Erik had never hidden the nightmares from the twins, wouldn’t have been able to if he tried, and after the first few times he’d woken up with them curled around him he’d given up even the thought of trying. They cared for him better than he was capable of caring for himself.

“Was it Mum?” Pietro asked as Wanda snuggled against Erik’s side.

“For some of it, yes,” Erik said, stroking Wanda’s hair slowly. Pietro leant into his side and hugged Erik’s arm to his chest.

”Us too?” Pietro’s voice was small again, awed by his father’s fear.

“Yes,” Erik said, unable to shake the sensation that closing his eyes would take his children from him.

“Charles as well,” Wanda added, a statement. Erik’s hand stilled on her hair. “You were saying his name.”

“I –” Erik paused, let out a shuddering breath and tried to clear the images from behind his yes. “Yes. Charles was also there.”

“You fancy him, don’t you?” Pietro asked, fingers tightening briefly.

“Pietro!” Wanda leant over Erik’s chest and hit Pietro on the shoulder.

“What? You want to know too!” Pietro let go of Erik’s arm to rub his shoulder.

“But you can’t just ask! Not about his feelings.” Wanda said, scandalised.

Erik laughed, putting an arm around Pietro to pull him close, and hugged the children tightly. The last of his panic dissipated, replaced by the familiar and annoyingly butterflyish feeling that had been spreading through him since that might in the pub.

“Do you like him?” he asked instead of answering.

“Wanda likes him,” Pietro said and Erik smiled at the hint of sullen in his tone.

“He’s nice,” Wanda said, shifting around to make herself comfortable. “He listens when you talk.”

“I think he’s smug,” Pietro said darkly and Erik laughed again.

“He is smug,” Erik agreed. “But I think he has a fairly good reason.”

“It’s annoying,” Pietro said.

“A little, yes,” Erik admitted. “But there’s more to him than that.”

“So you do fancy him then,” Wanda said, craning her neck to look up at him. Erik flushed in the darkness.

“Would you mind?” he asked, reflexively squeezing them again.

“It’d be weird,” Pietro said, like the words were being dragged out of him. “You’ve never really done that.”

“But Charles makes him happy,” Wanda said across his chest. “Doesn’t he, Dad?”

Erik wasn’t sure if there was a word in any human language for what Charles had made him feel in such a short time. He was worried that his past would catch up with Charles, as evidenced by the nightmare, but he could no more stay away from Charles than a moth could from a light.

“Yes,” Erik said, trying to put all of that into one word. “He does. But I’m not going to – I can’t, yet, and I can’t explain why. I’m glad, though, that you two are on board.”

“You deserve to be happy, Dad,” they said at the same time.

“Thank you,” Erik said, squeezing them close. If anyone had asked he would never admit to the catch in his voice.

“Do you want us to say?” Wanda asked.

“To keep the nightmares away?” Pietro added.

“That’s very brave of you,” Erik said. “I’d like that.”

“Okay, but just this once,” Wanda said, wriggling her legs under the sheet. “You’re a big boy now, you should be able to sleep on your own.”

Erik suppressed a laugh and let the twins pull him down into the bed, Wanda tucked under his arm and Pietro snuggled against his side.

“G’night, Dad,” they both suppressed a yawn in synchronicity.

“Goodnight,” he replied, pressing a kiss to Wanda’s head and then to Pietro’s.

The nightmare didn’t come back that night.

--

Erik’s newest sculpture was beginning to look worryingly familiar. It was a commission for a law firm and supposed to be a simple abstract head – something classic and modern at the same time, naturally – but it was turning into something else entirely. Here was the tilt of Charles’ mouth and here the distinctive wave of Charles’ hair. He knew it was a problem when Wanda said something; she’d never had an eye for art, particularly the abstract.

“Is it supposed to be Charles?” she had asked from her position on top of a work bench, her legs swinging back and forth.

Erik was aware that his groan had been all the answer needed. He had looked at the sculpture in the fading daylight streaming through the workshop door and sighed.

“That’s not a bad thing, though, is it?” she had continued, tilting her head. “He’s handsome, after all.”

Erik had to agree. He was happy with the sculpture, despite it not being his intention to make it that way, and it was his own fault for starting it the day after That Night in the pub.

He tried to puzzle Charles out as he shaped the metal, bending it into a multitude of shapes before finding the one he needed, but was always left with a familiar sense of frustration. He’d had the same problem with Magda.

They’d spoken in the weeks since That Night; very pleasant with one another, sharing a closeness of space that Erik hadn’t thought he was capable of, and with no mention of the weighted words Charles had given him. Raven jumped the fence between their gardens to entertain the children when she had a free afternoon and Erik would end up offering Charles a drink when he came looking for his errant sister.

One evening Charles had, self-admitted, nosed around the house and found the chess set in study Erik never used. Erik had made it himself, shortly after Magda’s death, in an effort to distract himself and keep his mind sharp at the same time. Charles played (of course he played) and smiled as he challenged Erik to a round.

It should have taken more than a week for such a thing to become so regular: Erik offering Charles a drink, Charles offering him a round of chess, Raven exhausting the children’s post school adrenaline. Before Erik knew it the two of them had worked their way into a routine that had served him well for years and, although Charles made him feel constantly off-balance, Erik found he liked it.

It couldn’t last.

--

A Sunday burst into being when Wanda and Pitero landed heavily on either side of him, bouncing him out of a pleasant dream about the comfort of warm socks.

“We haven’t got new neighbours today,” he said, rolling over and burying his face in the pillows.

“Don’t be silly,” Wanda said and Erik could almost hear her roll her eyes.

“Then why’re you waking me up?” he demanded from his pillows as Pietro started pushing at him.

“Because it’s a nice day,” Pietro said, grunting as Erik made himself dead weight. “We shouldn’t waste it.”

“You two are more like your mother than you know,” Erik complained as Wanda tried pulling at the same time Pietro pushed.

“It’s probably the last nice day of the year,” Wanda said, stopping her heaving for a moment. “We should have a barbecue.”

“And invite Raven and Charles,” Pietro said, digging a shoulder under Erik’s side. “A little help Wanda?”

Between one moment and the next Erik’s whole world shifted and he found himself on his back, Wanda and Pietro’s smiling faces hovering over him. He sighed theatrically.

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?” he asked, looking up at them. They shook their heads in time.

“What if Raven and Charles are busy?” he tried. Wanda’s smile widened. “Oh, God, you already asked them, didn’t you?”

“They’re coming over around noon,” Pietro said, nodding. “Charles is bringing the meat.”

“He offered before we could stop him,” Wanda said before he could protest.

“You told us it was rude to refuse gifts,” Pietro added.

“How long have you two been planning this?” Erik asked suspiciously as Pietro began the weary task of pushing him upright.

“Only since the last nightmare,” Wanda said. “Why’re you being so difficult?”

“Sheer bloody-mindedness,” Erik said, grinning. “Trying to cope with the embarrassment caused by my children trying to set me up.”

“Who said anything about setting you up?” Pietro asked, dropping Erik with a whoosh of air. “We just want to hang out with them.”

“Yeah,” Wanda said, poking Erik in the arm. “They’re much cooler than you.”

“Oh, really?” Erik asked, narrowing his eyes. Wanda tried to back off the bed but he caught her as he surged up, reaching out to snag Pietro by the ankle as he tried the same. He pinned them together underneath him, tickling them until they were shrieking with laughter.

“That’ll teach you for planning barbecues without me,” he said, collapsing over them, exhausted.

“Get off, Dad,” the said together, breathless, trying to push him off.

“On two conditions,” Erik said. “One: Wanda cleans the barbecue. Properly. Two: Pietro tidies up after. Agreed?”

“Alright!” Wanda said, gasping.

“Properly, Wanda,” Erik reiterated. “No cheating.”

“Yes! Properly,” she agreed. “Say yes Pietro!”

“Yesyesyesyes,” Pietro spoke so quickly Erik barely caught the words.

“Alright,” he said, rolling away from them. They sprang off the bed and the look of affront on Wanda’s face would make Erik laugh for years to come. It made him laugh then.

“You’re not funny, Dad,” Wanda said, straightening her pyjama top as if it was the finest of silk shirts.

“I think I’m funny,” Erik said, waving a hand dismissively. “Charles thinks I’m funny.”

“Yeah, and Charles drinks a lot,” Pietro said with a dignified sniff that was far beyond his years.

“Are you saying his judgement needs to be impaired before he can find me funny?” Erik asked, mock affront in his tone.

“Pretty much,” Pietro said, shrugging.

“Why you little –” Erik lunged across the bed but as quick as that Pietro was gone, his laughter trailing him out of the room. Erik ended up half off the bed, upside down, hands pressing against the thick carpet to stop himself from sliding to the floor.

Wanda walked around the bed and stood over him, arms folded across her chest. She shook her head as his barely contained laughter caused his arms to wobble so hard that he slid down another inch.

“Fail, Dad,” she said, still shaking her head. “You know you can’t catch him if he knows you’re coming after him.”

“But it is fun to try,” Erik said, grinning until he saw Wanda’s mouth twitch.

“I don’t know what Charles sees in you,” she announced, throwing her hands up and turning out of the room. She was smiling as she went.

Erik let himself fall off the bed, having no elegant way to extract himself from the situation he’d ended up in, sobering slowly. For a long time Wanda and Pietro had been the only two people he felt he could be so free around – but judging by the nervous flutter in his chest at the thought of spending time with Charles, that was about to change.

--

Erik watched Charles entertaining the children through the smoke rising off the barbecue. Raven lounged in the weak October sunlight, looking on with a half smile on her face.

Erik turned the sausages and listened with half his attention, taking almost regular swigs of the imported beer Charles had brought (along with far too much meat, leftovers then, Erik, with a smile on his face).

“What now?” Charles asked, sitting cross-legged opposite Wanda and Pietro. “I know, how about a magic trick?”

“Oh, no,” Raven groaned, throwing a hand over her eyes. “Charles, don’t. No-one wants to see a magic trick.”

“I do,” Wanda said, eyes lighting up. She’d always been fascinated by magicians.

“Pietro?” Charles asked, raising an eyebrow. Erik smiled as the war between Pietro’s youth and his desire to be treated as an adult passed vividly across his face.

“Yes,” he said at last, his youth winning. Charles smiled and looked over at Erik. Erik raised an eyebrow at him.

“How about you, Erik, would you like to see a magic trick?” Charles asked. Erik was fairly certain he wasn’t imagining the undercurrent of something that Charles hadn’t put in when asking the children.

“I like a good magic trick,” Erik admitted, shrugging one shoulder and taking a swallow of beer. It didn’t escape him that Charles’ eyes lingered on his throat as he swallowed. He felt the back of his neck heat. Charles turned back to Raven.

“It seems you’ve been outvoted, little sister,” Charles said, glee evident in his voice. Raven sighed dramatically.

“Okay then, get it over with,” Raven said.

“Right,” Charles rubbed his hands together. “I want you both to think of a number between one and ten.”

“That’s not a –” Pietro started and stopped when Wanda punched him on the arm, her eyes never straying from Charles’ face.

“I don’t suppose it is much a of a trick when you think about it,” Charles admitted, still smiling. “I could easily guess, I have fairly decent odds, but those odds rise rather a lot when I’m asking more than one person to think of a number. In fact – you too, Erik. Think of a number.”

Three, Erik thought to himself. The odds of Charles getting it wrong were increasing by the minute.

“Now, are we all thinking of a number?” Charles asked, looking at each of them in turn. They nodded. “Very well. Complete silence, please, while I concentrate.”

Charles pressed two fingers to his temple, ah, that’s the bad habit he was referring to, and focused his eyes on Wanda, Pietro and finally Erik. Erik tried not to flush under the stare and was prepared to blame it on the heat of the barbecue if asked.

“Seven,” Charles said, pointing at Pietro. “Two,” he added, pointing at Wanda. “And – three,” he finished, pointing at Erik. “Well?”

“Right,” Erik said at the same time as Wanda nodded excitedly. Pietro hesitated and Erik knew he was weighing up being mischievous versus telling the truth. Finally he nodded. Charles clapped his hands together again, laughing.

“Not a bad trick,” Erik said, raising his beer in a salute. Charles raised his own in acceptance.

“I can do a magic trick,” Wanda said excitedly. “Do you want to see?”

“Of course I would,” Charles said, eyes wide with interest. Wanda smiled and raised her hands and Erik should’ve known what she was about to do but he’d allowed himself to be lulled into a sense of false security and his reaction time was off.

Red light sparked between Wanda’s hands, one of the little bolts she called ‘hexes’ spitting up into the sky. Raven sat up in surprise and Charles’ eyes went wide with something a lot different to interest.

“Wanda,” Erik barked, his stomach going cold. He dropped the tongs onto the barbecue and strode towards her. She shrank back.

“I was only –” she started and swallowed, holding her hands up. Charles shot up and moved between Erik and Wanda.

“Erik, stop,” he said, raising his own hands. They pressed against Erik’s chest and he felt the panic snap like a rubber band. He grabbed Charles' hands and pushed him around, pulling his arms down and trapping Charles against his body, breath heaving in his chest. The barbecue rattled angrily behind him. Raven stared up at him with shock.

“Children – go inside and –” Erik stopped when he realised Charles wasn’t struggling, even though he knew his hold was tight.

Calm yourself. Charles’ words, echoing a little inside Erik’s head, but he didn’t speak them, Erik would have felt the vibrations. Calm your mind before you crush the barbecue.

“What –” Erik blinked as Raven stood up, her eyes still wide.

“Raven, would you?” Charles spoke out loud this time, nodding to her. Raven nodded back and in a flicker of blue and red Erik was looking at himself, a replica of himself, perfect in every detail. He released his grip on Charles in surprise.

Raven’s form shimmered again and was this time replaced a vision in blue. Her hair was a vivid red and her eyes were yellow and there were things like scales on her arms. She pirouetted on the spot, smiling bashfully.

“Rather brilliant, isn’t she?” Charles said, turning to face Erik, rubbing his wrists. “I’m afraid I wasn’t entirely honest with you, Erik.”

Erik stared at him, wholly lost for words. Everything about Charles offered an apology; the soft smile, the bright eyes, the spread hands.

“You’re mutants,” he said, looking from one to the other.

“Quite,” Charles said, nodding his head. “You and I – we share more than one kind of mutation. I’ve known it since the day the realtor showed me this house.” He tapped his temple. “I could sense it. You must’ve been working.”

“We thought you knew,” Pietro said quietly.

“Yeah,” Wanda added. “What did you think we meant when we said Raven made amazing faces?”

“I – honestly couldn’t tell you,” Erik said, still looking at Charles. “You’re a telepath.”

“Exactly,” Charles said, smiling as if Erik knowing what he was was the most brilliant thing he’d ever heard. “I assume you have some sort of ability to manipulate metal. Or magnetism, perhaps?”

“Yes,” Erik said. “You knew?”

“I did,” Charles nodded. I know a lot about you, as it happens. You broadcast your dreams, and nightmares, rather loudly. “Speaking of metal – you may want to,” he paused and wiggled his fingers towards the barbecue.

Erik turned and stifled a laugh when he saw the crumpled mess he’d made of the thing.

Of course, you could leave it as it is, Charles voice ghosting so easily through his mind. I’m sure if you called it art someone would buy it.

“But we won’t have anything to eat if you don’t fix it,” Charles finished out loud.

“You get used to him not clueing you into all of each conversation,” Raven said to the children as Erik twisted the barbecue back into shape with a flick of his wrist.

We have such a lot to talk about, Charles said, reaching a hand out. When Erik didn’t (over)react he squeezed Erik’s shoulder.

“You no longer have to shoulder your burden alone,” Charles said, sliding back into Erik’s space like Erik hadn’t restrained him a moment before.

Erik looked into Charles' eyes and found it was easy to believe him. It had been a long time since he’d believed in anything other than himself and his children.

I trust you, he thought haltingly. Charles smile was enough to tell him that his message had been received.

“May I help you with the food?” Charles asked, stepping out of Erik’s space towards the barbecue. “Looks to be almost done.”

The stillness that had taken over the garden slipped away and Erik let Charles help to a background noise of Wanda and Pietro being amazed by Raven’s blue skin. He took a much needed gulp of beer and shared a smile with Charles.

“That was you,” he said after a moment. “You woke me up.”

“I did,” Charles said with a nod. “Could you?” he gestured at the tongs, glowing sullenly in the heat rising from the barbecue. Erik obliged by extracting them, coaxing the heat out of them and into the air.

“Thank you,” Erik said as he lowered the cooled tongs into Charles hand.

“It was nothing,” Charles said, waving a hand. He piled sausages onto a plate. “I couldn’t bear the pain that was rolling off you. I had to do something.”

“Still,” Erik said, reaching out and gripping Charles’ hand where it was wrapped around the tongs. “Thank you, Charles.”

“My pleasure,” Charles said, looking up at him from under his eyelashes. Erik swallowed.

Why are you so easy to fall for? he wondered, wondering if Charles would hear him.

I could ask the same of you, Charles thought at him with a wink as he handed over the plate of sausages.

Remember, Charles added as Erik carried the sausages over to the outdoor table. All the time you need.

Erik looked over his shoulder and held Charles’ gaze. He was beginning to think he wouldn’t need much time at all.

--

The nightmares didn’t stop but they became calmer, fuzzier, soft around the edges. There was a sense of distance applied, as if Erik was no longer participating in them, and it removed the desperate fear.

“One of the many benefits of befriending a telepath, my friend,” Charles had said when Erik asked. “Besides – they’re keeping me awake too.”

“I’m sorry,” Erik had said, ducking his head. Charles made a soft noise and tilted his head back up with a finger under the chin.

“You’ve seen so much,” Charles said, shaking his head. “You can’t help crying out in your sleep. I’m just glad I can do something to help you.”

Erik let his gratitude seep out of him and Charles smiled in return; yet another benefit of befriending a telepath, no need to vocalise emotions Erik was poorly equipped to feel let alone express.

Charles and Raven became official fixtures at Sunday dinner, Erik had always cooked too much and even two extra mouths didn’t really change the amount of leftovers remaining for the week’s sandwiches. It was something extraordinary, how relaxing it was to be able to use his abilities in company too.

“You like showing off for Charles,” Wanda said, in what she clearly thought was a whisper, one afternoon as Erik sliced the beef hands-free. Charles snorted a laugh into his glass of wine as Erik felt the back of his neck flush.

You don’t need to impress me, Charles sent, his smile fading to something soft and fond.

Maybe I’m trying to impress Raven, Erik suggested, floating a particularly nice looking piece of beef over to her.

Charles mimed clutching at his chest with betrayal and Erik almost dropped the knife in his attempt to stifle a laugh.

“You two are so cute I could barf,” Raven said, miming an action of her own, and Erik would’ve felt chastened if he’d not begun to recognise the fondness that undercut most things Raven said.

“Raven, such language at the table,” Charles admonished. She tipped an imaginary bonnet at him and winked at the children.

Charles had explained to him one evening over chess that Raven wasn’t, in fact, his biological sister at all.

“Found her in the kitchen when I was boy, stealing food,” Charles said, waving his hand, a knight dangling from his fingers. “We had more than enough food and more than enough room – I simply…made my family, what there was of it, not see her.”

“That doesn’t seem particularly ethical,” Erik said, watching as Charles set the knight down at last and leant back in his chair.

“I was young,” Charles said, closing his eyes for a moment. “The power was heady. I justified it by telling myself I was saving Raven’s life.”

“Were you?” Erik asked, thoughtfully tapping a finger on a bishop before moving to a pawn. Charles tipped his head back and opened his eyes to the ceiling.

“I’ll tell you when I know,” Charles said. Erik looked at him; all soft lines in the chair, the paleness of his throat, his hair falling in waves.

He hoped that Charles wouldn’t pick up the ‘impossibly lovely’ when it escaped his limited control of his thoughts around Charles.

--

“I’d like you to come down to my office,” Charles said on a Thursday evening, the sound of Pietro chasing Wanda and Raven creating a background cacophony to his suggestion.

“Pietro,” Erik called over his shoulder, holding a hand up to pause the conversation. “Be careful.”

“Whateveryousaydad,” Pietro’s voice was a blur of sound as he passed the living room door. Charles’ indulgent smile was warm.

“Sorry,” Erik said, turning his focus back to Charles. “He has a tendency to forget about little things like walls when he’s running that fast.”

“Don’t apologise, Erik, not for your son being spectacular,” Charles shook his head. “Now – where were we?”

“You’re inviting me to your office,” Erik said, swirling his scotch. “I can’t say it’s the most appealing second date.”

“I wasn’t aware we’d had a first,” Charles said, looking at Erik over his own glass, humour in his eyes.

“You asked me out for drinks,” Erik pointed out, raising a hand when Charles opened his mouth to interrupt, “and practically climbed into my lap.”

“There is that,” Charles allowed, ears reddening. “Allow me to put it another way, then – I wasn’t aware we were dating.”

“Aren’t we?” Erik asked, holding Charles’ gaze. Charles swallowed visibly and shifted in his seat.

If you’re asking if I’m exclusively not sleeping with you, Charles spread his hands wide and shrugged, smiling.

“I said I would give you time,” Charles added. “I meant that. This offer is a simple opportunity to meet someone you may find interesting.”

“Another mutant,” Erik said, raising an eyebrow. Charles nodded.

“There are lot more of us than people realise,” Charles said. “We’re only a poorly kept secret because Project Sinister snaps us up when they can.”

Erik felt as thought a bucket of ice had been poured over his head, his heart pounding in his ears, and the fire grate bent sharply in on itself.

A place in which to understand your powers. Service to your country not so much to ask in return. If it had just been that – but then there was Shaw, who was not who he said he was, and Magda crying out and Essex doing nothing when he could have done everything -

Charles flinched before reaching a hand out to take one of Erik’s, slipping into his mind as simply as he touched him.

I’m sorry, he said, soothing Erik’s rising, unbidden, panic.

“I should think more carefully before I –” Charles said but Erik stopped him by squeezing his fingers.

“Not your fault,” Erik shook his head, drawing a breath. “You weren’t to know.”

“I should have guessed,” Charles shook his head. He stood, still gripping Erik’s hand, and moved onto the sofa beside him, pressing their sides together. The contact grounded Erik.

I should have put two and two together – your military background and your nightmares, Charles threaded their fingers together properly and raised Erik’s hand to his mouth, pressing soft kisses to his knuckles.

“You were asked?” Erik said, too detached to worry about Charles’ assumption of his personal space.

“Raven and I both,” Charles said, nodding. “We had the luxury of declining. We had already taught each other so much about our powers – it seemed pointless.”

“You would have been one of the lucky ones, I think,” Erik said, leaning into Charles' side and drawing comfort from him. “Essex would’ve been fascinated. I, on the other hand, had the misfortune of falling under Shaw’s command.”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you say his name out loud,” Charles said, all softness. “He’s the man from your nightmares.”

“Yes,” Erik said, letting out a shaky breath. “Essex was always too much of a scientist to see that Shaw needed to be more controlled. Those bastards at the MoD were just happy to have successes.”

“You fear him still,” Charles said, quietly. “And you think that weakens you.”

“How can I be strong enough to protect my children from him if I can’t stop myself from jumping at shadows?” Erik asked, forcing himself to keep his voice low.

Oh, Erik, Charles pulled his head down a pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Fear is the true sign of strength,” Charles said, earnest. “It shows you have to intelligence the understand your mortality – and that makes you powerful. Do you think Shaw fears anyone?”

“He doesn’t need to,” Erik met Charles’ eyes. “He’s almost invulnerable.”

“Ah – ‘almost’,” Charles said, saying the word as if it represented every stroke of genius the world had ever seen. “We can work with almost.”

“We?” Erik asked, his heart trembling a little from the hope he could hear in his own voice.

“If you think for a moment that I, or Raven for that matter, would allow anything to happen to your children, to you,” Charles made a great dismissive sniffing noise. “You are very much mistaken. I told you that your burden was no longer yours alone – I meant that.”

Charles’ assurance wasn’t simply in his words; it was in his hand gripped tight in Erik’s, in the depth of his eyes, in the almost indignant vibrating of his body. Erik nodded.

“It seems to becoming rather repetitive,” Erik said, releasing Charles’ had at last. “Thanking you all the time.”

“It’s I who should be thanking you,” Charles said with an aborted shake of his head. “For allowing Raven and I the privilege of your family.”

“We’ve been alone for a long time,” Erik said, adding necessity for Charles’ hearing alone. “It’s new, but good, having you two around. Good for the kids.”

“You’ll never need to be alone again,” Charles said, shifting away on the sofa, that familiar smile coming back to his features. “Come meet Hank and find out just how not alone you are.”

--

Charles’ office at the Wellcome was cluttered with so many books and papers that Erik wondered how he managed to get any work done. There didn’t seem to be a spare space.

“The Professor’s filing method is – eccentric,” the young man who’d shown him to Charles’ office said, smiling awkwardly. “Uh, you must be Erik? I’m Hank. Hank McCoy.”

“Doctor McCoy,” Charles stressed, entering the office behind them. “Good afternoon, Erik, I’m glad you could come.”

“You seem young for a Doctor,” Erik observed, looking over Hank’s gawky frame and boyish features. Hank flushed.

“Hank is a genius,” Charles said, hanging his lab coat on the coat stand by the door. He retrieved one of his habitual tweed jackets (leather patched at the elbows, of course) and shrugged it on. “Graduated Harvard at age fifteen, no less.”

“My first doctorate was through Johns Hopkins,” Hank said, shifting awkwardly. The curse of being a humble man – an inability to receive praise.

“First?” Erik asked, raising an eyebrow. “Is being a genius your mutation?”

“Ah, not quite,” Hank rubbed a hand through his hair.

“Hank and I shared several classes as I was pursuing my own academic career,” Charles said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I didn’t realise he was one of us until the first time I saw him run.”

“Like P-” Erik stopped himself, still wary. Charles shook his head anyway, picking up the end of the thought Erik hadn’t voiced.

“You’ll have a chance to see,” Charles said, tapping a finger to his nose. “Come along, Hank, it’s time for our weekly meeting.”

“About that,” Hank said, carefully hanging up his own lab coat. “Alex may be late – he’s had to cover George’s shift. Again.”

“Again?” Charles shook his head as he led them from the room. “When will that boy learn that he can’t hold his alcohol?”

“Meeting?” Erik asked as he fell into step with Charles, Hank following along behind them.

“A club of sorts,” Charles said with an elegant shrug. “Very Oxfordian of us, I’m sure, but I think you’ll agree that it’s not your average club.”

“I can hardly wait,” Erik said, smiling when Charles bumped his shoulder with his own.

--

Hank’s rooms were surprisingly large – but less surprisingly so when Erik found out he shared them with three other young men, two of which were also American. The tall, blond one was dragging chairs out of the kitchen when Hank let them in. He stopped when he saw Erik, eyebrows lifting.

“Who’s the new guy?” a violently ginger boy asked without looking away from the intense round of Halo he was engaged in. The Irish accent was something unexpected and yet painfully familiar. Erik clenched his fists and only unclenched them when one of Charles’ hands brushed briefly against his knuckles.

Another memory you may share with me when you feel able to, Charles said, meeting his eyes briefly.

“His name is Erik,” Charles said, shucking his jacket and hanging it on the back of the door. “I’ll thank you all to be kind with him.”

“‘Sup, Erik,” the ginger boy said, waving a hand in his general direction. “Sean.”

“Alex,” the blond man extended a hand and Erik shook it.

“Where’re Armando and Angel?” Charles asked, looking around.

“I’ll see your question and raise you one of my own – where’s Raven?” Alex asked, fetching another chair from the kitchen.

“Minding Erik’s children for him,” Charles said, fixing his eyes on Alex. “Hank said you’d be late.”

“And that’s where Armando is,” Alex said, setting the chair down. “You know he’s always chasing after shifts.”

“Of course, but that leaves –”

“Angel!” Sean paused his game and was over the back of the sofa before the door had time to fall shut. He took Angel’s coat from her and Erik caught her barely suppressing an eye-roll. He had a feeling he’d like her.

“Angel – Erik,” Charles waved between them. Angel smiled at him, a low seductive sort of smile, and Erik found himself returning it. Charles made a noise and Angel laughed, giving him the kind of look Erik had begun to associate with telepathic communication.

“Well then,” Charles said, turning and clapping his hands together. “If we’re only waiting on Armando I say we call this meeting of the X-Club to order.”

Erik couldn’t stop his snort of laughter as the other members of the ‘club’ groaned.

“Seriously, man, we’re not calling it that,” Sean said, dropping back onto the sofa and hopefully clearing a space beside him. Angel expertly avoided meeting his eyes and settled herself on the opposite side of the circle.

Alex sat on the other side of her and Hank settled into the lone armchair. He fit into it so well that Erik hazarded a guess that no-one else ever sat in it. Charles and Erik took seats beside each other, leaving the space beside Sean on the sofa for the errant Armando.

“It’s not even a proper club,” Alex said, directing his words towards Erik. “Just a bunch of mutants sitting around and shooting the shit.”

“Yes, well, before the shit is shot,” Charles said, waving a hand for silence. “How about you all – Sean, please turn that off, I don’t care how many people you’ve fragged and, no, I don’t care if it’s not fragged – tell Erik about yourselves. Just while we wait for Armando.”

The assembled mutants were as eclectic a bunch as Erik had ever seen, the odd mix of abilities reminding Erik almost forcibly of his first days in Project Sinister. He hated himself for instinctively classifying them by offensive capability but knew it was a battle with himself that he’d never be able to win.

Alex was clearly the most dangerous, self-admittance of an inability to control his immense power not-withstanding, but his fear of hurting someone would hold him back. Angel’s combination of several insect-like abilities was fascinating, Shaw would’ve liked her. Sean swore that his sonic voice had more to it than shattering glass, he just wasn’t sure what. And Hank –

“Hank’s a beast, man, it’s amazing,” Alex said, slapping Hank on the back.

“Admittedly, yes, my strength is far above average for a person of my body type and height,” Hank said quietly. “And my senses appear to becoming more acute as I age. Then there’s –”

Feet with prehensile toes. Hank seemed embarrassed of them and Erik caught a strange look on Charles’ face when Hank brushed aside Alex’s gently mocking jokes about big feet.

“Armando’s the real impressive one,” Angel said, folding her legs up underneath her.

“Oh, God, yes,” Sean said. “The one man proof of Darwin’s theory of evolution.”

“We call him Darwin almost as much as we call him Armando,” Alex added.

“Someone say my name?” the front door shut with a click behind Erik and everyone turned to hail the newcomer.

“Armando, just in time,” Charles said. “This is Erik.”

“Hey, man, Darwin,” Armando gripped Erik’s hand briefly before sitting down.

“Do the thing,” Sean said, nudging him heavily.

“Come on, Sean,” Armando said tiredly. “I’ve just done a whole day more than I normally do.”

“Yeah – but no-one can explain what you do,” Sean said, gesturing wildly. “They’ve got to see it.”

“Alright then,” Armando sighed. “Alex – you do the honours.”

Alex crossed the circle and threw a punch, Armando’s head snapping to one side. Erik was on his feet before he was even aware of what was happening. Armando turned his head back round, a hardened exo-skeleton fading back into his cheek.

“The Prof calls it ‘reactive evolution’,” Armando shrugged as Charles tugged Erik’s hand until he sat down again.

My theory is that nothing could ever kill him, Charles added. He can’t control it, though. It’s literally the greatest survival mechanism known to man.

Erik looked around the room and began to believe that, yes, when Shaw came for him – he’d get far more of a fight that he ever expected.

--

“Well,” Charles said, as they left Hank’s rooms. “That went rather well, I think. How about a little celebratory drink?”

“I’m beginning to worry about your drinking, Charles,” Erik said, humour in his tone to soften the words.

“Nonsense, I’m English, I’m bred for this,” Charles said, puffing his chest out. “As are you, my friend.”

“I should get back –” Erik started but Charles stopped him with a hand to his arm, two fingers raised to his temple.

“Raven says the children are fine,” Charles said, eyes distant. “In fact, hah, they say you deserve to have some fun.” He lowered his fingers. “Erik – I do believe your children are trying to set us up.”

“They approve of you,” Erik admitted and Charles’ grin flashed bright across his face. “I can’t see why.”

“They clearly have impeccable taste,” Charles said, steering Erik with the hand still on his arm. “Come, now, one or two drinks won’t do you any harm.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” Erik muttered as Charles led the way.

--

“You’re a very, very special man, Erik, did’ja know that?” Charles asked, leaning heavily against Erik’s side.

“You may have mentioned it once or twice,” Erik said, gritting his teeth against the warm temptation that was Charles pressed against him.

“S’true!” Charles said earnestly. “Special. To me. And other people. But mostly me. And your children, I guess.”

“Thank you, Charles,” Erik said, steering Charles up his own path. “You’re very drunk, but thank you anyway.”

“This is my house!” Charles said, drunk mind already moving onto the next thing. Erik didn’t mind the statement of the obvious because it meant Charles stopped trying, and failing, to slip a surreptitious hand down the back of Erik’s trousers.

“That’s right,” Erik said, propping Charles against the wall beside the door and patting him down in search of his keys.

“Tch,” Charles said, batting playfully at his shoulders. “Not on the second date, you cad.”

“I’m a third date man, myself,” Erik said, locating the familiar shape of a keyring in Charles left trouser pocket.

“A man of honour,” Charles said approvingly. Erik made a noise of assent.
He wiggled his fingers and concentrated for a moment, drawing the keys out without having to risk putting his hand in Charles’ pocket. Charles clapped.

“You really do have astonishing control,” Charles said, slinging an arm around Erik’s waist as Erik unlocked the door.

“Only on the little things,” Erik said, pushing the door open with his hip and dragging Charles in with him. “Anything larger than, say, a car and I’m useless.”

“Not so,” Charles shook his head so hard he stumbled. Erik caught him under the arms as he kicked the door shut behind them and pulled him close again, walking him towards the stairs. “Your potential is unlimited. You manipila- manipulo- control the magnetic field. With the right focus you could do anything.”

“I’ve tried,” Erik admitted, managing to get Charles up several steps. Charles made a scoffing noise.

“As a very wise and very small man once said – do, or do not, there is no try,” Charles stopped to pontificate and Erik had to dodge flailing hand. “You must unlearn what you have learnt, my friend.”

“One,” Erik said, pushing Charles on. “That wise man was Yoda. Two – that was in a movie. Things work differently in the real world.”

“Magnetism is a force, is it not?” Charles asked, smiling. “Maybe not the Force.”

“It figures that you’d be an enormous geek,” Erik muttered under his breath as he manoeuvred Charles around the landing. The bedroom was in sight and Erik was resolutely thinking of nothing but getting Charles settled and going home to his kids and his own bed. His lonely, lonely bed.

Erik was a little more drunk than he currently wished to admit.

“That sounds nice,” Charles said, hanging loosely from one of Erik’s arms. “Bet your bed is nice.”

“It is nice,” Erik said. “But you shouldn’t be reading my mind right now.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Charles nodded as Erik pushed him through the door of his bedroom. “Don’t drink and use telepathy!”

“Yes, that,” Erik said, shoving Charles in the direction of the bed. Charles flopped down face first and Erik knelt by the bed to untie his shoes and pull them off.

Charles rolled over and reached out to Erik as he stood. The air snapped electric as they touched, despite the fact that Charles had been touching him all evening, because Charles fixed an almost sober look on him.

“Stay the night,” Charles said, softly, timidly. Timid didn’t seem right on Charles.

“The kids –” Erik said, jerking his head towards his own house.

“Raven’ll take care of them,” Charles said, pushing himself up on one elbow. “She already offered.”

Being set up, Erik thought once again.

“Charles – I can’t –” Erik thought it rather than said it and Charles muffled a laugh against his chest.

“Neither can I,” Charles said, shaking his head. “It may have escaped your knowledge but I am really too drunk for that. Your virtue is safe. I just want to sleep with you.”

“Charles –”

“Let yourself not be alone, just for one night,” Charles’ eyes were so dark in the half-hearted moonlight pushing through the curtains. Erik knew he was drunk because he was considering it.

“I’d have to leave early,” he said. “To get the kids off to school.”

“Of course,” Charles said, tugging on their still connected hands.

“Alright,” Erik said, releasing Charles’ hand and toeing his shoes off. “I’ll stay.”

“Thank you,” the words echoed in Erik’s mind as well as his ears and he knew, in that moment, how much it meant to Charles that he was staying.

“I’m going to take my trousers off,” Erik said, undoing his belt. “This is not a statement of intent.”

“No, of course not,” Charles said, wriggling out of his own trousers. It was a little obscene and probably not a sight Erik would lose in a hurry.

Erik climbed into the bed on the opposite side of Charles, squirming his way under the covers, and didn’t even fight Charles when Charles pulled him up behind him, twining their fingers together.

“‘Night, Erik,” Charles said, around a yawn.

“Goodnight, Charles,” Erik said, letting his head fall against the back of Charles’.

When he was certain Charles was asleep Erik pressed a barely there kiss against the crown of Charles’ head, his heart pounding afresh when he did so.

Erik did not have a nightmare that night.

--

The doorbell rang at 9:30 on a Saturday morning while Erik was in the kitchen staring at the children’s cereals and wondering if he could get away with eating one of them without being mocked for it for years. He couldn’t face cooking breakfast and there was no grown-up cereal in the cupboard.

“I’llgetit!” Pietro was a lot freer with his speed of late, something Erik blamed Charles for.

“Pietro!” Erik shouted, coming out of the kitchen. “What have I told you about answering the door to strangers?”

“It’s not a stranger,” Wanda shouted back from the living room. “It’s Charles.”

Erik’s heart flipped in his chest and he frowned at himself. He wasn’t a teenager, there was no call for that sort of reaction. He came into the hall as Pietro whipped the door open.

“Hi, Charles!” he said, employing his favourite trick of swinging back and forth from the open door.

“Hello, Pietro,” Charles said, smiling down at Pietro. “I think that was the quickest yet.”

“I’ve been practicing,” Pietro said, proud of himself. “In the park, when no-one’s there.”

“That poor swan,” Erik said absently, distracted by the sweep of Charles’ eyelashes against his cheek.

“The RSPCA just said it was shocked,” Pietro told Charles. “They released it later that day.”

Charles looked up at Erik and smiled, eyes sparkling, and Erik felt his heart flip again. They’d said little about the night he spent in Charles’ bed but it seemed to have eased the expectant weight hanging over their heads for a few weeks at least.

“Good morning, Erik,” Charles said, his voice warm. “How are you?”

“Well,” Erik said, lips twitching up at the corners. “To what do we owe this early morning pleasure?”

“Ah, yes,” Charles said, waving when Wanda appeared in the living room doorway, hanging off the doorjamb. “Raven and I are thinking of a picnic lunch today, popping over to the Brecons, and were wondering if you three would like to come along?”

“Popping over to the Brecons,” Erik repeated, raising an eyebrow. “A two and a half hour drive for a picnic?”

“Well – not just a picnic,” Charles said. “The Brecons are lovely this time of year.”

“Can we go, Dad?” Wanda asked at the same time as Pietro asked: “Dad, can we go?”

“Ooh,” Charles said, grinning at Erik and wiggling his hands by his ears. “Stereo.”

Erik knew that laughing would only encourage Charles but he couldn’t quite stifle it in time. Charles looked delighted.

“Well,” he said, looking down at the twins. “I suppose we haven’t anything else to do today.”

“Is that a yes?” Wanda asked, frowning.

“Yes, Erik,” Charles said and Erik could hear the laughter in his voice. “Is that a yes?”

“That’s a yes,” Erik said, wincing when Wanda and Pietro cheered. “If! you let me have some breakfast first.”

“Of course,” Charles said. “How about we meet outside around 10?”

“Sounds good,” Erik said, looking up at Charles and nodding.

“Superb,” Charles said, stepping back from the door. “Oh, and Erik?”

“Yes, Charles?” Erik asked.

“You may want to put some trousers on,” Charles said, waving at Erik’s bare legs. “I know the Irish have different morals to we Englishmen – but I’m fairly certain the Welsh don’t share them.”

Erik felt his cheeks burn red within milliseconds of Charles’ statement. The children’s laughter certainly didn’t help. Charles smiled, something slightly wicked and filthy around the edges of it, and Erik’s blush deepened.

“See you soon,” Charles said, turning away down the path, hands in his pockets and a jaunty whistle on his lips.

Pietro managed to close the door despite laughing so hard tears were seeping from the corners of his eyes and Erik covered his face with both of his hands.

“You could have said something,” Erik said through his fingers.

“It was a lot funnier because we didn’t,” Wanda said between hiccupping laughs.

“Oh my God, Dad,” Pietro said, inconsolable on the floor by that point. “Your face!”

“You are so very lucky that society frowns upon abandoning 10 year-old children parks,” Erik said, the strangled tone of the words taking the sting out of them. Wanda and Pietro laughed harder as he retreated into the kitchen.

Maybe he could face cooking breakfast after all.

--

“I’m not entirely Irish, you know,” Erik said, wearing trousers and settling into the passenger seat of Charles’ Focus.

(“A Focus, Charles, really?”

“You were expecting something else? A Bentley? A Rolls?”

“Not quite. I just didn’t imagine you as the ‘affordable’ type.”

“You’re lucky it’s a Focus. I used to drive a Fiat.”)

“No?” Charles said, watching in the rear view mirror as Raven settled the children. There’d been the usual fight over who got to sit in the middle but Pietro had won when Erik pointed out that he was the most likely to get carsick. “Your accent suggests different.”

“My parents were immigrants,” Erik admitted. “But I was born in Düsseldorf before they moved.”

“German?”

“Quite,” Erik nodded. “I speak it too.”

“My mother wanted me to learn German,” Charles said, pulling his seatbelt on. “But I was always terrible at it. No good at the harder sounds. My French is better.”

“I speak French too,” Erik said, knowing he was showing off (and knowing that if he was a telepath he’d be able to hear Wanda thinking about it). “A little Spanish.”

“My, my,” Charles said, his eyes lighting up again. “Aren’t we the Renaissance man.”

“All set,” Raven said and Erik was spared the awkward embarrassment of having to find a response to such a statement.

“Excellent,” Charles said, starting the car. “Away we go then.”

--

Erik learnt several things on that journey – some surprising and others endearing and others rather impressive.

Charles hated the A40, for example, for no coherent reason. Raven’s patience for I Spy was greater than anything Erik had ever seen. Wanda and Pietro would behave on a car journey if they were invested in their father’s relationship with one of the members of the company.

Charles’ taste in music was by turns hilarious and exquisite (“I’m afraid Raven’s adolescent fondness of the Spice Girls may have irreparably harmed my tastes.” And: “Glenn Miller, of course, but also Benny Goodman.” And, memorably: “The Arcade Fire –” “Sorry, Charles, The Arcade Fire?” “It’s not a ‘the’ is it?” “No. No it’s not.”) and all the more endearing for being so.

When traffic turned a two and a half hour journey into a three hour journey Charles turned the CD player off and switched on Radio 4 – leading to a lengthy attempt to explain the difference between the Miliband brothers to Wanda and Pietro after a Now Show sketch.

“I always liked the elder Miliband best,” Charles said reflectively. “He was never afraid to talk about us on the few occasions the ‘mutant question’ was raised in the House of Commons.”

“Cameron and Clegg don’t seem to even want to admit our existence,” Erik observed, nodding along with Charles’ thoughts.

“Which makes me angrier,” Raven said. “I voted for Clegg because he actually put mutant rights in the manifesto.”

“You voted?” Erik asked, turning in his seat to look at her over his shoulder. “But you aren’t –”

“No, she isn’t yet,” Charles said darkly. “She exercised several other people’s right to vote.”

“They were going to spoil their ballots,” Raven said with a shrug. “I saved them the trouble.”

“It’s not quite in the spirit of democracy,” Charles said, shooting her a look in the rear view mirror. Raven stuck her tongue out and the children giggled.

Erik was surprised when they arrived. The three hours had passed much more pleasantly than any car journey he’d had since the birth of the twins.

A credit to Raven’s ability to entertain, Charles suggested when they climbed out of the car. He stretched, arching his back, and Erik was momentarily distracted by the hollow of his throat exposed by the movement.

From the way Charles looked at him when he finished stretching Charles didn’t miss the distraction.

“Yeah,” Erik said out loud, still not quite used to the telepathic communication. He turned away and focused on Wanda and Pietro. “Now, remember, when we are out we?”

“Don’t use our abilities unless we need to,” the twins chorused.

“And what constitutes need?” Erik pressed. They sighed in unison.

“If we’re attacked,” Wanda said and Pietro added: “If we’re in genuine danger.”

“Not?”

“Because Pietro pushed me over and stole my ice cream,” Wanda said, folding her arms.

“Or because Wanda called me a name and threatened to turn me into a tree,” Pietro said, glaring at his sister.

“I did that once!” Wanda said, stamping her foot. “And we were seven! I’m too mature to do that now.”

“Yeah, now you threaten to turn me into human,” Pietro said, jutting his chin out.

“Now, now, children,” Charles said, patting them both briefly on the head. “There’s no need for that – we’re going to have a good day where no-one threatens anyone with anything. Could you give me a hand, Erik?”

“Yes, of course,” Erik said, leaving Raven to oversee the squabbling children. He followed Charles to the rear of the car and took one of two picnic baskets from him.

“Could she do it, do you think?” Charles asked in a low murmur, eyes fixed on his task. Erik sucked in a breath.

“I’ve seen her do some strange things,” Erik admitted, thinking of inexplicably manifested toys and bullies that always got their just desserts. “But never intentionally.”

“I’d love to figure out exactly what it is she’s capable of,” Charles said thoughtfully. Erik froze, hearing a ghostly familiar version of that sentence run through his head.

We only do it to find out what you’re capable of, Erik. Essex knows what we’re doing (he hadn’t) he gave his okay (he didn’t). It’s just some tests, Erik, to see what the pain really makes you do. (Essex would’ve known better than to call it a test.)

“Oh no, no,” Charles turned to him quickly and put a hand on his arm, rubbing circles with his thumb. “I would never – not in a million years. It was nothing more than idle speculation.”

“I – I know,” Erik said, willing himself to relax. “It’s just – that’s what we’ve been running from, for so long. I couldn’t bear it –”

“When you ran,” Charles said slowly, turning back to the boot of the car and levering one last chair out of it. “It wasn’t simply because of –”

He stopped there and Erik knew it was because they were approaching territory Charles had only seen in dreams – things he had only witnessed through the prism of Erik’s own fear. Erik swallowed.

“No – that night,” if he didn’t close his eyes he wouldn’t see it again. “Wanda and Pietro manifested as well. It was a surprise because they were so young – I didn’t think it was possible.”

“I have some theories about second generation mutants,” Charles said, shutting the Focus’ hatch. “But they’re only theories. Wanda and Pietro are the only second gen mutants I’ve ever heard of.”

“I was terrified,” Erik said, surprising himself with the admittance. “And then Shaw – I knew I couldn’t ever let Essex get his hands on them, let alone Shaw.”

“And you ran,” Charles said, offering a few of the chairs to Erik. Erik tucked them under his arm and supported them via the metal to make things easier.

“I ran,” Erik nodded. Charles reached a hand out again, this time reaching up to touch Erik’s neck, swiping a thumb over his cheek before pulling away.

“I am so sorry that happened to you,” Charles said, his eyes wet around the edges with empathy. “I will make certain that it never happens again.”

Erik believed him.

--

There seemed to be no end to Raven’s energy and thus no end to her ability to play with Wanda and Pietro. Her creativity was endless too – now they were playing a game where Raven would slip out of sight and become someone else and the twins would have to figure out who she was.

Admittedly, it had already led to several apologies from Erik to startled and bewildered humans who were accused of being Raven.

(“Sorry, it’s a game they play. I think they miss Raven too much.” Which unfortunately led to them calling people Nevar as well.

“You may want to choose your words more carefully next time,” Charles said with a flawless Scottish accent. When Erik looked at him with surprise Charles laughed.

“I was a student before I was a Professor,” Charles said, grinning. “CBBC programming was amongst the highlights of my day.”

“Didn’t it clash with Countdown?” Erik asked, laughing when Charles affected a look of outrage.

“Oh snap,” a portly gentleman said, eyes flashing momentarily yellow. Raven revealing herself in her amusement.)

“It’s good for her,” Charles said, sitting maybe a little closer to Erik than was strictly necessary, their knees pressed together. “I was a very dull child, I’m afraid, terrible at playing. I think she may be living a second childhood.”

“She’s welcome to as long as she has the energy,” Erik said, drinking from his bottle of water. “They’re exhausting.”

“She’ll have them thoroughly exhausted by the time we head back,” Charles said, unconsciously brushing a hand against Erik’s. “They’ll sleep all the way home.”

“Excellent,” Erik said, resting his head back against the chair and closing his eyes. He could feel the weight of Charles’ eyes on him.

“I love them,” he said quietly. Charles made a quite noise.

“I had no doubt that you do,” Charles said, that hand now purposely grazing Erik’s.

“Sometimes I worry that I’m not enough for them,” Erik said, turning his hand over and letting Charles trace ticklish patterns on his palm. “If their mother –”

“Stop right there,” Charles laced his fingers with Erik’s and squeezed his hand until Erik opened his eyes to look at him. “Your children couldn’t ask for a better father – the things you’ve done for them. They go so far above and beyond things another fathers do. You’re remarkable.”

Erik had a brief flash, a memory that wasn’t his own: an unkind and uncaring step-father and an indifference that was so much more painful than anything physical could have been. He sat up straight and turned to focus on Charles properly. Charles bit his lip nervously.

“That was an accident, wasn’t it?” Erik asked, squeezing their joined hands.

“I have to admit,” Charles said slowly, eyes holding onto Erik’s. “I’m finding it harder and harder to control myself around you, Erik.”

A silence stretched between them, loaded and powerful, and Erik thought he could maybe lean across the distance between them and – he watched as Charles’ eyes widened slightly, obviously picking up the image that had just flickered between them.

“Charles, I –” Erik began, ready to say something he hoped he wouldn’t regret.

“Daaaaaaaaaaad,” Pietro crashed into him with slightly more speed than the average human child should possess. “Ravensaidthere’sanawesomewalkthatweshouldallgoon!”

Erik blinked as Charles disentangled their hands, the tension between them easing, and tried to parse Pietro’s sentence.

“Perhaps you could repeat that at a rate those of us that move at normal speed can understand?” he suggested. Pietro opened his mouth but Wanda provided the translation before he could speak.

“He said ‘Raven said there’s an awesome walk that we should all go on’,” Wanda said, standing decorously by Erik’s chair, her head held high.

“Charles?” Erik asked, looking over Pietro at Charles. Charles hid away the fondness in his eyes just a hairsbreadth to late. Erik felt warmth cascade inside his heart.

“I think I could manage a walk,” Charles said, nodding slowly. “But I shall need help taking the things back to the car first.”

“I’ll help!” Pietro shouted, almost deafening Erik as he leapt from Erik’s lap.

“Me too,” Wanda said determinedly.

“Well, thank you very much,” Charles said, winking at Erik. Erik smiled reflexively.

Erik stood and moved over to where Raven had perched on a picnic table, swinging her legs and watching her brother command the children.

“You did that on purpose, I think,” Erik said, leaning a hip against the table.

“Maybe,” Raven said with half a smile.

“I don’t know why, though,” Erik admitted. “I was under the impression you were conspiring with Wanda and Pietro.”

“I am,” Raven said, her smile unfurling fully across her face. “I’m afraid you were collateral damage in a war of attrition.” When Erik raised an eyebrow she added: “He walks in on Hank and me deliberately all the time. I haven’t had an opportunity to get my own back in a long time.”

“Well – glad to be of service,” Erik said, hating himself for sounding a little brittle. Raven’s smile softened and she put an arm out to hug him briefly about the shoulders.

“Sorry,” she said. “But, hey, you had the courage to nearly kiss him once – you’ll find it again.”

Erik looked at Charles, clutching his sides with laughter as Pietro tried to carry all five chairs at once whilst balancing a basket on his head, bright blue eyes and pink cheeks from the cool autumn air.

He’d be lucky if he managed to stop himself from kissing the man as soon as he was within a foot of him.

--

The autumn sun was lowering over the west as they walked along, firing the Brecons with gold and making everything around them too beautiful for words.

“Do you find this inspirational?” Charles asked, gesturing around them.

“It’s something I don’t think I could truly capture in metal,” Erik said honestly. “Not unless I wanted to face awkward questions about how I made the piece. It does create a certain mood, though.”

“I should like to watch you work, one day,” Charles said quietly, almost as if he hoped Erik wouldn’t hear it.

“It’s not particularly exciting,” Erik said, hoping the golden sunlight would distort the flush creeping up his cheeks.

“On the contrary,” Charles said, looking up at him with a smile. “Wanda tells me it’s fascinating.”

“Yes, but Wanda does have a very distinct ‘trying to set her Dad up’ bias in this situation,” Erik said good-naturedly.

“True,” Charles let out a soft laugh. His eyes changed slightly and Erik knew that the next thing that came out of his mouth was going to be yet another thing that tested his resolve. “I have to admit, however, that I’ve wanted to watch you work since I felt you – that first day.”

“I –” Erik scrubbed a hand through his for something to do with his hands. “Thank you. I’m, well, trying to work on something at the moment. It’s not going quite right.”

“Maybe I could help you,” Charles said, stepping closer as he moved around a rock in the path. “I don’t pretend to be an expert on sculpture but I may be able to –” he wiggled his fingers by his temple “- ease the space between your ability and your creativity.”

“I would – that would – I –” Erik made a frustrated noise at himself and Charles stopped two steps ahead of him, turning to look at him quizzically.

Oh, to hell with it, Erik thought, not minding if Charles picked up on it. Charles probably deserved some sort of warning for what was about to happen. Sure enough Charles' eyes widened as Erik closed the distance between them, his hands going up at the same time as Erik reached out for him.

Erik pulled him in with a hand around the back of his neck, twisting his fingers up into the thick hair at the back of Charles’ head, and ducked his head down. Charles’ hands linked behind his neck and for the briefest of moments they breathed each other’s breath before Charles cut off the last space of air between them and pressed his lips to Erik’s.

Erik made a soft, involuntary noise at the back of his throat and Charles’ hands tightened. Erik’s off hand landed on Charles’ waist and pulled Charles flush against him. He tilted his head slightly and licked out along the seam of Charles’ lips. Charles mouth parted against his and allowed Erik to slide his tongue shyly into his mouth.

Charles kissed like he did everything – outwardly subtle but a study in devoted concentration and intensity underneath. Erik allowed Charles to guide the kiss, content to tangle himself up in Charles for as long as Charles wished it. Charles’ hands slipped apart and one cupped Erik’s cheek, fingers stroking the soft spot behind his ear, and Erik made a noise he’d forgotten he was capable of.

A puff of amused breath came from Charles’ nose and Erik couldn’t help smiling into the kiss. In a moment the kiss was broken, the laughter bubbling up inside of him too much to control, and Charles pressed his forehead against Erik’s shoulder as he started chuckling.

That was an interesting noise, Charles thought through his laughter.

I have it on good authority that I make a variety of interesting noises, Erik thought back. Charles raised his head and gave Erik a look that was thick with normally hidden lust.

I shall look forwards to finding out for myself, Charles said, his thoughts a gentle caress against Erik’s mind. When you are ready.

Erik nodded and kissed Charles again, this time a brief press of lips to Charles’ forehead. Charles closed his eyes for a moment and Erik studied the golden shadows painted across Charles’ face and knew that this was a moment he would be able to capture as easy as breathing.

“We should be heading back,” Charles said after a moment, opening his eyes and stepping back enough to look at Erik without going cross-eyed. “Raven tells me the children are ‘drooping’.”

“Oh dear,” Erik said, stepping back himself and perhaps even more reluctant to break contact than Charles. “We may have to carry them.”

“My friend,” Charles said, moving to link an arm through Erik’s as they turned to catch up with Raven and the twins. “I feel as though I could carry the world about now.”

Erik knew the feeling.