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Charles was sleeping peacefully when his dream began to shift into something unrecognizable. Softly shaded trees outlining a flowing river shifted into something nightmarish, trees twisting until they were laughing faces, the stream swirling around and around until it was all consuming. Charles shook himself awake through force of will, groaning as he erected his mental shields to keep away the nasty thoughts slipping through his defences and colouring his thoughts with darkness.
When he was awake enough to understand what was happening, Charles recognized the thought pattern of young Bobby immediately, standing outside his bedroom door and filled with a terrified trepidation. The boy had only recently come to the mansion, after a session in Cerebro where Charles had heard his little mind calling for help. Bobby’s mutation developed very young and the boy had been having a terrible time with it, all alone and very scared.
Charles had shown up, as he had so many times before over the numerous years he’d been running his school, and presented the boy’s parents with a number of reasons why a private education at the Xavier’s Institute for Gifted Youngsters would be beneficial for their son, even if he was still young. Thankfully, he’d been able to whisk young Bobby away from a set of parents who, Charles learned after meeting them, believed that mutants didn’t deserve the same rights as baseline humans.
The poor boy. He was endlessly glad that he’d gotten to him before his parents had noticed the emergence of his powers and that they’d been able to get him to the school safely, but as Charles cast out his mind and slipped through the boy’s thoughts, he noticed that he was still having a hard time with being away from home.
With his chest constricting tightly, he projected the image of his bedroom door opening. Bobby got the message and opened the door slowly, first opening it only enough to slip his head through and look around the room, and then enough for his little body to fit through the crack before gently closing it behind him. He shuffled into his bedroom in socked feet and a sweet pair of pyjamas that had snowflakes on them. He had picked them out himself during a shopping trip with Ororo, and Charles had been ecstatic to see the boy embracing his powers.
Coming to a stop at the side of Charles’ bed, Bobby looked up at him with wide, tearful eyes and a quivering bottom lip. Charles propped himself up onto his elbows, wishing that, for convenience-sake, he still had the use of his legs. It wasn’t a thought that he wished to dwell on for long, not when he had a little boy close to tears standing beside his bed.
“Good evening, Bobby,” Charles greeted in a whisper, aware that Erik was still sleeping soundly beside him. “What can I do for you this evening?”
“I had a bad dream,” the boy said, clutching in one hand the stuffed bear he’d brought with him from home and his blanket in the other.
Charles’ heart ached, and he patted the edge of his bed while reaching out an arm to help Bobby climb up. Adorably, the boy scrambled onto the bed nearly as high as him, pulling himself up with a bit of limited help from Charles. He smiled at him softly, very glad that he and Erik had taken to wearing pyjama sets to bed many years ago.
The boy sat on his bottom and faced Charles and told him, “I don’t think my mom and dad love me very much.”
Which—goodness, was that ever heartbreaking. Charles did his best not to burst into tears when faced with the young boy’s wide, tearful eyes, especially when he knew the horrible truth that if the boy’s parents were to learn of his extraordinary abilities, they wouldn’t love him. Instead of thinking on that heartbreaking bit of knowledge, he reached forward, and Bobby’s little fingers let go of his blanket to grab hold of as many of Charles’ fingers as he could. He smiled softly, schooling his features into a kind smile.
“I’m very sorry to hear that and I’m very sorry that you had a bad dream, Bobby.” Charles kept his voice steady to ensure he didn’t burst into tears or upset the boy any further. “Was that what your bad dream was about?”
Bobby nodded, and he sniffled as he tightened his hold around Charles’ fingers. Poor, poor boy.
“Do you know what the cure for a bad dream is?” Charles kept his voice light and teasing, and it earned him the beginnings of a smile as Bobby shook his head. “Cuddles,” Charles whispered conspiratorially, adding, “cuddles can cure all bad dreams!”
Bobby gasped, and his excitement was palpable in the air between them. Charles grinned back at him, using the hand that wasn’t taken by Bobby’s little grip to lift the blankets to expose the gap between himself and Erik, who was currently lying on his back with an arm thrown over his own chest. Bobby giggled, no doubt joyous at seeing his teacher in such a state, and quickly and carefully climbed over Charles.
It was a small space but Bobby was a small boy, and he fit between them perfectly. Charles smiled at the boy’s continued giggled, no doubt having a blast being cuddled up between them. He smiled fondly at his husband when, still asleep, he rolled onto his side and threw an arm around the young boy before cuddling into him. Bobby giggled but settled down quickly, holding his bear tightly as Charles fluffed the blanket and then laid it down over the three of them. He pressed a soft warmth along the edges of Bobby’s mind to ensure he would sleep well before wishing him goodnight.
A little voice echoed the sentiment, and Charles smiled fondly as he closed his eyes, doing one last scan though the sleeping minds housed in the mansion to ensure all his children were well.