Chapter Text
“For God’s sake, Erik, that is enough blankets.”
“You’re still shaking like a leaf, Charles,” countered his husband as he tucked yet another fluffy throw around Charles’ legs. “I’m not going to have you catching hypothermia due to an idiotic suggestion I made.”
“And if I’d done the same thing without your suggestion?”
“Oh, well, I’d let you freeze to death, of course.”
“Of course,” Charles agreed as he cradled his mug of tea between frozen hands, willing his icy fingers to warm at the contact. “You’d be rid of me at last.”
“Finally.” Erik frowned as he placed a hand over Charles’ own, clear displeased with the chill he could still feel. “Why are you still so cold?”
It had been a good idea, really. The first two months of the year had brought only challenges upon the school—miserable weather, a terrible flu, and a hideous bout of pneumonia that had Charles out of commission for a good month.
A nasty virus for most, pneumonia was one of those things that wreaked utter havoc on Charles especially. One of the more brutal complications of paraplegia was a weakened immune system and decreased lung capacity, so when his body fell victim to a virus like pneumonia, the path back to health was a long, arduous one.
Only in the last week or so had Charles felt good enough to reintegrate himself with the school’s daily goings-on, and in celebration, Erik had surprised him with a delightfully traditional garden tea.
All had gone wonderfully, until the blizzard started.
Like the flip of a switch, their pleasant, picturesque snowfall spun into the fiercest blizzard of the year so far. Visibility had dropped to near zero—Charles was very glad that he had Erik to guide his chair, else he would have gotten lost on the trek back to the mansion. And by the time they finally pushed their way into the mudroom, both were snow-caked and soaking wet.
An hour later, Charles still could not shake the chill in his bones.
Erik had quickly helped him into warm clothes and settled them by a fireplace, hot tea in hand and a swath of blankets cocooning his body, but there was still a ferocious cold pooled in his chest that radiated in shivers through his. extremities. The chatter in his jaw had thankfully stopped, but the involuntary trembling would not stop.
“An evident imbalance of homeostasis,” Charles replied, and when a roll of Erik’s eyes confirmed that the man was in no mood for silliness, he sighed. “Stop fretting, darling. Please. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
The projection from Erik’s mind was quiet and incoherent, but Charles thought me might be able to pluck pneumonia and my fault in the murmur.
“I’ve told you already,” Charles continued, watching as Erik began to aimlessly toy with his ball bearings, a nervous habit he’d practiced in all the years Charles had known him. “You can’t get pneumonia from merely being in the cold. The virus has to be present already. I’ve shaken it completely.”
“What do you know?” Erik snapped back, turning too busy himself with the fire.
“I’m a scientist.”
“You’re a schoolteacher.” When Charles didn’t reply, Erik’s shoulders softened, and he turned around to face the man. In the warm glow of the roaring embers, Charles couldn’t help but notice how bloody well Erik looked. The taper of his waist, the breadth of his shoulders, the angular jaunt of his jaw. If he didn’t know that Erik would firmly rebuff an offer, Charles would assuredly be petitioning for a quickie. “Pardon me if I’m cautious, Charles,” said Erik, light eyes piercing. “But if I can take measures to keep you from falling ill again, I’d like to.”
The telepath understood, of course. How could he not.
“What would make you feel better?” Charles asked then.
Charles thought that he was likely the only person alive who would detect the minuscule flicker of relief cross Erik’s features. In a few long strides, Erik crossed the space between them and outstretched his arms in question. “May I?”
Charles nodded.
There was always respect, when Erik performed tasks like lifting Charles from his wheelchair. So many well-intentioned others could be quite cavalier in their insistence upon assisting Charles. One might push his chair without prompting, thrust their hands over to brace him, even speak for him as if he wasn’t capable of doing so himself. It was something he’d grown to watch for among companions, something he was quick to stamp out where it arose.
With Erik, there had never been an ounce of that. Fretful as he was, Erik never imposed anything upon Charles. In spite of an open invitation to push Charles’ chair whenever it became necessary or convenient, Erik always waited for a nod of approval to do so. A silent, telepathic ask before stepping in to assist, regular glances to ensure he wasn’t overstepping. Erik liked to act like he cared little for empathy, but he could be the most intuitive, emotionally-intelligent man Charles had ever met.
“Now what?” Charles murmured once safe in Erik’s arms.
“Now, you thaw.” Gracefully, Erik strode toward the overstuffed armchair nearest the fire and sat, arranging them both so that Charles was comfortably nestled in his lap. Strong arms twined around Charles’ torso, enveloping him in a warmth that made fire pale in comparison. This warmth trickled through his blood, toward his chest, and deftly began to chip away at the icy freeze that had locked in his chest.
“Mm, that’s not bad,” Charles admitted, his eyes butterflying shut as Erik’s lips began to dot along the slope of his neck. “I wouldn’t absolutely hate it if you kept doing that.”
“No?” Erik murmured. Evidently, he was lost in his task, too focused on ensuring that every inch of Charles within reach would be met with a warm caress of his lips.
“No,” he agreed, suddenly sleepy in the cozy swaddle of his husband. “I truly don’t understand how you’re so warm all the time.”
Gently, Erik turned Charles’ face toward his own, those impenetrable eyes focused on Charles’ mouth. “An evident failing of homeostasis,” he said, and then closed the space between their lips.