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Like any good story, it starts over spilt milk.
...
It's almost eight am and Erik unashamedly trips over the threshold, is pretty sure he's got piece of a pine cone from the wreath stuck in his hair. He welcomes it though because he hasn't seen the inside of his house for nearly fifteen hours. Erik is never letting an intern near his main server again seeing as how they seem to be moronic based on their pure existence alone. His ass is killing him from sitting in front of his computer restoring file after file, rescheduling the deadlines that he could and rushing the projects for the ones that he couldn't. It's going to take at least three days to get back on track but there's been enough progress that he can hand the rest of the work over to someone else.
Erik should be terrified of how Azazeal will repay him but he can't find the energy to really care.
He can't remember the last time he was this exhausted, tired to the marrow. Erik can't exactly swear to having been awake the entire drive home.
All he wants to do is fall into his bed, cocoon himself in his comforter and never resurface. Erik's just past the sofa when he hears Lorna's bright giggle, Wanda and Pietro quarreling about what could be anything. The twins could disagree over what day of the week it is, honestly. Actually he's sure that they have.
Erik's missed them all badly, so much that he forgoes self-preservation and heads into the kitchen.
"Daddy!" Lorna cries happily.
"Morning, Dad." Wanda's and Pietro's greetings are more subdued but they've got grins on their faces.
"You look like a zombie from Night of the Living Dead," Wanda remarks. In his fuzzy state Erik can't tell if she's just making commentary or actually expects him to do something about it. At ten, Wanda is hitting her teenaged and 'embarrassed by all things parental' phase early.
"I vividly remember telling you not to watch that before I left."
"You don't look like you remember. Plus it's almost Halloween; have a heart."
Laughing Erik says, "Don't come crying to me when you're being chased by brain-eaters in your dreams."
Pietro shrugs, the headphones resting on his shoulders going up and down. "It's not only your room anymore and Charles will always love us," he says, matter of fact.
Miracle of miracles, Wanda nods in agreement.
And while that's entirely heartwarming and he's grateful that everyone is adjusting well after Charles' move-in two weeks ago, Erik decides that's where his bizarre day should end.
He tells them to be good at school and almost succeeds at leaving until he nearly breaks his neck because apparently there's a flood on the floor.
Erik's not sure how he missed the puddle of milk upon entering the kitchen because it stretches from the table to the doorway.
When he turns backs to face the children after toeing out of his shoes, he finds them with their heads bowed over bowls of colorful cereal.
"Pietro..." He starts.
"Wasn't me," his son replies quickly.
"Wanda?"
"I don't know how that got there."
The usual suspects giving their usual answers.
Erik knows who he can truly count on.
He'll get an answer out of Lorna, his baby, his angel who has yet to learn sass will him the truth.
"Lorna, baby, can you tell Daddy how all of this milk ended up on the floor?"
She just blinks up at him innocently and says, "Nope." and dives back into her own Frankenberry cereal. Her crunching sounds suspiciously dismissive.
Erik is shocked silent.
"Well, just," Erik sputters after a few seconds, "make sure it's cleaned up before you three head for the bus or else —"
Erik will think of an 'or else' as soon as he has enough neurons firing. Although it will be hard to come up with a punishment befitting his twins turning his precious seven year old to the dark side and said child willfully choosing to become a hellion.
"Just trust me, you won't like it," Erik finishes lamely.
"We'll clean it," Wanda says.
Erik thinks he stalks out of the kitchen with an ounce of his authority in tact.
But Pietro's always had a killer instinct.
"You have a pine cone in your hair," the boy calls out.
"I knew that. Thank you," Erik calls back.
When Erik finally gets to his bedroom he faceplants into his pillows, registers the running shower only after he's horizontal.
Face still partially mushed, he yells to the open bathroom door, "We should cancel the costume shopping for this Friday! My children are already monsters!"
Erik falls asleep to the rich sound of Charles' laughter although he's not sure what part of what he said was funny.
...
"What are you doing?"
"Um."
Erik's eyebrow lifts and he waits patiently for whatever excuse his son will come up with this time. The stories are always the most creative when Pietro is caught red-handed. Erik's uni shirt hanging from Pietro's hand might as well be a white flag.
"I wanted to be close to you," Pietro says sweet as saccharine.
Erik has a flashback to the year Pietro had given him a Father's Day gift made from Erik's favorite—and very expensive—coffee beans because their cupboard was running low on macaroni.
"Try again," Erik replies.
"We're having a theme week at school. Monday's retro day," Pietro insists.
"That's interesting," Erik indulges. "What's Tuesday then?"
"Carnival. I'm thinking cotton candy." A stretch of silence and Pietro sighs dramatically. "Fine. I was making a fort."
Erik really doesn't have any reason not to believe that. It seems like a Pietro Activity but it doesn't deter his line of questioning.
"Out of clothes?"
"Sheets aren't very original."
"And you chose to use my clothes?"
"Why would I use mine?"
"Why the laundry room?"
"It smells nice."
"It's awfully small."
"Cozy."
It's like looking into a mirror, the challenge in Pietro's expression and Erik knows this could go on forever. However, it's his mother's weekend with the kids and he'll be getting enthusiastically laid tonight so he lets Pietro off the hook.
"Alright. You win this round but I am watching you."
Pietro smiles at him, relieved.
With a smile that genuine, Pietro can't be up to anything that reckless but all the same he takes his soft and worn shirt, the screen print fading, out of Pietro's possession. "Destroy things that can be replaced."
Erik doesn't think about it again until much later. When he's out of breath and definitely stuck in the wet spot.
He's kissing down Charles' chest, right over his heart when he asks, "You did laundry today, right?"
"Laundry, love? Really. I hardly have a proud ego," Erik rolls his eyes at that, "But why in the world are you thinking about laundry when you should be suffering a brain shortage because of the spectacular orgasm I've just given you?"
The twinkling in Charles' impossible blue eyes belie his attempt at being upset.
"Pietro was building a fort with the washing machine as part of the construction this afternoon. Wondering if you ran into him."
A wrinkle furrows above Charles' freckled nose. "I didn't see him. Is anything wrong?"
Erik kisses the worry off of Charles' mouth. "No. No. Everything's fine. It was a little strange is all and I prefer to have a heads up on whatever plans he has unfolding. Makes life easier."
"You should let him have his fun, darling." He's rubbing his fingertips on Erik's scalp and god that feels so nice he could purr. He's very close to it but Charles' mouth meets his once again and the sound is lost. Charles pulls back and says fondly, "Surely it hasn't been so long that you've forgotten your mischievous days. I can only imagine a ten year old you."
"Might've given my mother and father early grays. I can't tell you how many times I came home with a notice for parent-teacher conference."
"I bet that you're very sympathetic toward their plight now."
Erik nods and then delights when a memory returns to him, can't help the wide grin that comes to his face. He starts snickering.
Nudging him, Charles says, "What? Tell me."
"I'm remembering when my father gave me the talk," Erik explains. "I was fourteen and there was a girl. Emma Frost. I'll never forget her name. Her. She was gorgeous, the definition of a bombshell. She was terribly intimidating so of course I had to do something cool to get her attention. One day I skipped gym class and used my pocketknife—I was a total stereotype, so embarrassing— but anyway I took the knife and used it to etch a dirty message on her desk. My father was pissed. I couldn't look my mother in the eye for days."
"What did it say?" Charles asks curiously.
Here Erik hides. Well tries to, Charles has a grip on him that doesn't really allow it. "I wrote 'whenever you're feeling down, I can definitely feel you up.'"
Charles nearly laughs him out of the bed. "Oh you really were a bad boy."
Erik takes back the advantage and flips them over so he's on top and they're both out of the wet spot. He's always thankful for his indulgence in a California king.
"A very bad boy," Erik says lowly, nipping on Charles' ear, licking at that highly sensitive spot just below it.
"Good thing I've always had a weakness for those," Charles murmurs back, arching.
"Lucky me." Charles hums positively in response. Erik continues, speaks thoughtfully. "It's going to be awful isn't it? I can't imagine talking to the kids about sex. Jesus Christ."
Charles looks down at him, strokes his jaw and simply states, "I'll be right by your side."
...
When Charles and the kids burst through the door, Erik already has the movie on queue. It's actually been on queue for nearly forty-five minutes. How it took them forty-five minutes to shop for popcorn, Erik has no clue. They've got a ridiculous number of full bags.
Erik gets up to relieve them of a few. "Did you rob the cineplex of their supply?"
"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Charles starts. "Do you have any idea how many different brands of popcorn the grocer has? And we can't have a proper movie night without ice cream so we picked up a couple quarts of that. Then once we were in the freezer aisle, the children wanted fishsticks for tomorrow's dinner and —" he trails off. Erik can sense that that little spiel was just the tip of the iceberg.
"And you are a pushover," Erik offers while moving into kitchen.
"A pathetic pushover," Charles concedes, laughing.
"It's fine," Erik says, kisses him soft and quick. Whispering the first part, "Makes two of us. Kids, put away the groceries."
He's rewarded with moans and groans.
"Turnabout is fair play. It's what you get for making Charles support your sugar addiction." Erik says, shrugs, uncaring. He digs out the bag of kernels. "It'll give you guys something to do while I make popcorn."
"Oh I can make a bowl, Erik." Charles says. He pulls a pot off of it's mount on the wall. "You've been waiting. Go relax. It'll be ready in no time."
"I'll make one, too!" Wanda chimes, which is strange because Wanda does not volunteer. Erik would sooner expect a damn unicorn to leap out of his microwave. He also doesn't see why it's particularly necessary.
"Why do we need two bowls? I've got chips and pretzels out in the living room. That's plenty of food."
"Dad, are you questioning my eating habits? Grandma Edie says that curves are perfectly healthy."
Again, Erik is not looking forward to her hormonal stage.
"I'll leave you to it."
He doesn't miss Charles' snort.
When it's all set Erik has Wanda on one side of him and Charles on the other holding Lorna. Pietro's currently seated on the floor leaning back against Erik's shins but Erik knows he'll end up lounging with the rest of them soon enough. His son is like a Tootsie pop.
They're as far in as the opening credits when Erik reaches into Wanda bowl of popcorn. He chews for a bit, swears and then promptly grabs a napkin, spits the masticated popcorn into it.
His family gawks at him.
"Ew," The children say in unison. "Erik," Charles admonishes—for the swear Erik is certain but trust him, it's absolutely justified.
"Ew!?" Erik echoes back at Wanda, staring at her in disbelief. "You made it! I think that I'll be tasting salt for weeks."
"I like it."
"It's burnt, Wanda."
"I prefer well done."
Concerned, Erik holds her gaze and gently asks, "Seriously, do you no longer have taste buds?"
"Maybe Charles' is better," Wanda says. She keeps eating her popcorn, makes a big show of munching on a hefty handful. Erik grabs the bowl and sets it far out of her reach before her blood pressure spikes.
She is right though. Charles' batch is better. Significantly so.
...
Erik recognizes that something is severely wrong the night he overhears hushed tones in the study. It's not unusual for the kids to be in there; it's where they choose to spend their time immediately after school to get their homework out of the way. However, it's nearly one and there's no reason they should even be up, much less conspiring over his engineering drafts.
Erik goes to check on them but stops short when the conversation becomes clear.
"What are we going to do?" Lorna asks, sounding very worried.
"I can't fix that," Wanda is saying.
"Just google it," Pietro tells her. "Google solves everything."
"There's not enough time," Wanda says sharply. "Dad's in here every day. We can't keep him out. He'd see it before it could be fixed or switched."
"I can sit on it," Lorna suggests.
"Yeah, that's a great idea," Pietro says.
Erik can practically hear his eyeroll.
"Shut up, Pietro!" Wanda snaps.
"We have to do something," Lorna cries.
Her tone sounds dreadful and Erik lets the tug on his heart draw him into the room. The first thing that Lorna does when she sees him is scramble onto the coffee table. Pietro and Wanda shuffle to move in front of her. They look so frightened and Erik hasn't seen that ashen look on their faces in almost five years, not since the day he had to tell them that their mother had passed away.
Erik softens at the sight on them, his insides gripped in a vice. He approaches them carefully. "Whatever it is, it's okay."
Wanda and Pietro exchange glances and make some sort of decision. They separate and give Erik space to lift Lorna off of the table and hold her in his arms. Where she'd been sitting, he sees discoloration in the cherry wood. Someone had obviously scrubbed it with a strong chemical, Erik gets a soft whiff of bleach.
Erik sighs. There's no way that their upset over something as simple as this. Not his children.
"I did it," Lorna admits sadly.
Pietro shakes his head. "She's lying. It was me, Dad."
Erik turns to Wanda. "You too, I'm guessing."
"Yes," Wanda says, eyes downcast.
Erik sighs again because he's obviously lost control on this entire situation. That's if he ever had it.
Tomorrow he'll ask Charles if he has any idea what's going on.
Right now Erik will do what he can and put his children to bed.
...
The next morning, Erik walks bleary-eyed into the bathroom. He relieves himself and washes his hands, then his face and that's when he sees it. A sparkling blue streak of minty tooth paste on the porcelain sink. The cap is perilously close to the drain.
Armed with pure indignation, Erik is ready to scream for his kids because this scene is just disgusting. But then he remembers that the kids aren't even in the house, that the kids have their own bathroom in the hallway. He remembers that last night he'd found his kids close to tears over a ruined coffee table.
Erik remembers cool breath lingering on his lips this morning, a soft I love you following it.
"Well damn," he says to his reflection.
...
When Erik first met Charles, he had no intention of the relationship being long-term. Charles had been a beautiful man Erik had seen in a bar on one of his rare night outs and, as unimaginable as it is now, he was only meant to be a one night stand. However, Charles left an impression on Erik that was deeper than alcohol and skin. He was too brilliant to cast aside, too kind to not bask in, too wonderful to not keep, and too loving to not accept.
The physics of Erik's soul will never allow for Magda to be displaced in Erik's heart. But a space next to it, next to his and Magda's amazing children, did give the moment Charles Xavier happened into his life. Erik has no doubt that Charles will occupy that space until the end of his days.
Erik has no plans to let him go and maybe he should've considered the same is true for Wanda, Pietro, and Lorna.
He sends a text to Wanda informing her that she and her siblings should come straight to his study when they get home. He sends a similar message to Charles as well.
As an afterthought he emails Azazeal, informing him that Erik will be working from home today.
...
Erik is just finishing his last conference call when the kids file through the door of his study.
"Have a seat," Erik says.
"Are we in trouble?" Pietro asks, as he plops down into the small couch. Wanda chooses the arm of it and Lorna chooses Erik's lap.
"Have you down anything since this morning to warrant being in trouble, Pietro?" Erik asks, regarding his son speculatively.
"Not exactly."
Erik will definitely follow up on that answer later but one issue at a time. "Then you're fine. For the moment. I want to talk to the three of you about what you've been doing to protect Charles for the past few weeks."
All three of their jaws drop and Erik informs them that they look like fish.
"How'd you find out?" Pietro asks incredulous, voice pitching high.
"Your jurisdiction doesn't reach my bathroom sink," Erik says.
"I knew we were forgetting some place," Wanda grumps. A little defensively, "We weren't doing anything wrong."
"Not intentionally, no. But ultimately yes. It's a nice sentiment, libeling," Erik starts kindly, "but you guys cannot keep cleaning up after Charles, fixing his food or dear god, doing his laundry, Pietro. You're not his servants. No more."
"Dad, you hate messy people." Wanda stresses it as if he's slow.
"I do not." That's incredibly hyperbolic.
"Yes you do," Lorna interjects, gazing up him seriously. Erik is still not used to her turning on him. "You said that pigs belong on farms, not in houses."
"Okay, when did I say that?" Erik questions.
"When you broke up with that architect," Pietro tells him.
"That swimmer. You only went on one date with that librarian because she hoarded old VHS tapes," Wanda recalls within an echo. "Whatever those are."
"The mailm—" Lorna begins chirping and Erik covers her mouth with his hand.
"That's plenty. Thank you, you've proved your point." Erik says. He removes his hand. "Okay yes, I have a record and I do not like messy people but I do like Charles. I love Charles, you know that. Charles is different from those people. Charles is staying."
"Do you promise?" Pietro ask softly. He's feigning interest in his fingernails but Erik knows full well what this means to him.
This part is difficult. Erik does not make promises often. He'd only need half of one hand to count the number of promises he's made them. Yes, Erik doesn't want his children to grow up too fast but he also hasn't ever felt comfortable feeding his children unrealistic expectations. A promise can too easily turn into a lie. Erik doesn't want to be the sort of parent who lies and disappoints, not after everything they've already been through in such a short time. The pain Erik once didn't know if they'd see the other side of. Erik has always tried to provide stability.
His kids have suffered a significant loss before and if he can help it, they won't experience a fraction of that ever again. He badly wants to make this okay for them but he can't swear it. It's not his place.
"Would a promise from me suffice?"
The man has always had perfect timing.
"Charles. How much did you hear?" Erik wonders quietly.
Charles gives him a sheepish smile. "Basically everything, I believe."
He crosses over to them, sits on the couch and welcomes Pietro under his arm. Wanda moves to his other side and he deposits kisses on the crowns of their heads. "I cancelled my last class when I got your message. I'm guessing they didn't do you the courtesy of telling you I picked them up from school."
"Of course not," Erik bristles, tongue in cheek. He tickles Lorna's side, takes joy in her peal of laughter. "I keep telling you they're monsters."
Charles nods solemnly. "Lovely scrubbing monsters. Like woodland creatures out of a Disney film."
"Hellions more like."
"Our hellions."
"That's a yes?" Wanda asks tentatively.
"Indeed, darling. Where would I be without you, hmm? Cholesterol shot through the roof. Your father is right though. As much as I appreciate the gesture, this privileged chap does need to learn to pick up after himself." Winking at her, he adds, "And we both know it'll probably take years and years to teach me everything properly."
"Dad's birthday is next month," Pietro says helpfully. His grin is lit with mischief. "Chocolate cake is his favorite."
"You know when my birthday is?" Erik asks half-teasing.
Pietro shrugs. "Maybe."
"It can be a family project. All of us can make it. Grandma Edie has the best recipe," Wanda says smiling and excited, a tad shy. It's a rare tone she uses, reserved for only what's especially sacred to her.
"That sounds like a marvelous idea, Wanda and Pietro," Charles agrees warmly. "What do you think, Lorna?"
"Marvelous," she says, drawing out the word. Then she's on about balloons and ice-skating in the city and Daddy needs a clown.
Pietro wants a snowman building contest and Wanda suggests putting up Hanukkah decorations. A Christmas tree too, for Charles.
And Charles isn't missing a detail, Erik is sure, and that's why Erik couldn't leave him behind. Why Erik couldn't let that one night be it. He's selfish about Charles. Truly he is. Deep down though, Erik couldn't deprive his children of this. Charles can't cook and he can't clean but he's Erik's complement. Someone who can make promises and not feel jaded about it. Someone who makes his kids laugh and smile like the children they are, gives them hope for a bright future without making them feel different for their darker days. Erik knows that he does a good job as well, that his children adore him, would be lost without him but they'd be lost without Charles as well, struggling to get their foot in the doorway to normal. Charles constantly tells Erik that he's wrong about this, that Erik is more than enough but Charles didn't know the kids before. He hasn't seen the change in them.
Erik can be selfish about Charles but it's best for his kids that he isn't and he's more than happy to share.
fin