Work Text:
Wanda groaned loudly and dramatically, throwing her head back and hitting Pietro in the face with her curls.
“Daaaaaaads stooooooop” She whined, and gave them a piercing look. Pietro laughed and pushed her hair out of his face.
“Yeah, can’t you guys not be gross for one day?”
Erik was glaring at them, cheeks rosy in the cold and ears most likely on the verge of frostbite due to his stubborn refusal to wear a hat. His gray hair was combed back in the same style he’d been using since they were kids, the only change in his face the addition of wrinkles and a slight flattening of his nose.
“I don’t know why you’re lumping me in with him,” Charles said primly, bald head covered in the thick knit hat that Erik had refused to wear. “He’s the one who can’t turn on the TV without threatening world domination.”
“And how is wanting to stand up for our rights as mutants ‘gross?’” Erik asked, completely missing the point that Charles was trying to make.
Pietro gave Wanda a look that seemed to say ‘this is pointless’, and she rolled her eyes in response.
“It’s gross because you never shut up about it,” Charles supplied, and Pietro burst into unabashed laughter. Wanda, ever a daddy’s girl, at least covered her giggles with a gloved hand, sharing another look with her brother.
Erik seemed to only get angrier at that, and Wanda bit her lip and moved closer to the edge of the sidewalk, surreptitiously putting Pietro between herself and her father’s wrath. Charles gave her a wink at the thought, a playful gesture that hadn’t ceased his many years of marriage to her father, and interrupted his current tangent on ‘oppression’ and ‘educational superiority’ by saying “Your age is showing, dear.”
“Oh, that’s our cue!” Wanda sang, and grabbed Pietro’s arm to lead him away.
“Yeah, we’ll meet you guys at the diner. Don’t kill each other, you said you guys were paying so I didn’t bring my wallet!” Pietro called behind him, clearly enjoying the fact that his sister was struggling to drag him for a few moments before he gave in and followed her speedily down the sidewalk.
Erik huffed and unfolded the collar of his coat in an attempt to keep out the chill, the rough wool rubbing at his slightly stubbly cheeks. “This is a serious topic. I don’t understand why our children refuse to acknowledge it.”
“It’s because you always use politics to flirt with me, dear. You have them conditioned with twenty years of trauma.” Charles patted where Erik’s hands had settled back onto his handlebars comfortingly. “Times have changed, anyhow. If they’re going to do any social protesting they’re probably going to do it while wearing ridiculous spandex and going by insane alter-ego names.”
Erik began pushing Charles back down the sidewalk, making sure to avoid any serious patches of ice. “Their apathy is astounding, Charles. It took our ancestors a long time to-“
“For the love of- honestly Erik, just push me into a ditch already and get it over with, if I hear you say one more thing regarding mutants or politics-”
Erik’s spike of irritation was the only warning that Charles had before his wheelchair took a sharp turn to the left and he found himself knees deep in a snowbank. He blinked, and felt Erik’s amusement as he began to walk away.
“Wh…Erik, what are you doing?”
“Erik,” Charles laughed weakly, “You can’t just leave me here…”
Erik showed no sign that he’d heard, other than a spark of determination followed by further amusement.
Charles tried rolling out of the snowbank, but just as expected his wheels spun in place with no traction to catch on.
“Erik, this isn’t funny.”
Erik was radiating smugness now, and suddenly Charles couldn’t move his wheels at all.
Oh, so that’s how it was?
Charles glared at the back of Erik’s head, ignoring the thoughts of a couple walking in the other direction across the street as they wondered if they should see if Charles needed help.
Erik froze unnaturally before turning on his heel and awkwardly walking back over to Charles.
“Charles, whatever you’re doing, don’t.”
Erik was probably the most adept person at combating Charles’ telepathy after how many years he’d been subject to it, so Charles had a bit of trouble getting him to walk smoothly. Erik ended up looking like a puppet with his strings cut, and Charles couldn’t help the smirk that curled at the sight.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish, my dear Erik.” Charles hummed, enunciating the k of his name sharply.
“ChaaarrlllesssssSSS!” Erik called as Charles made him run towards him, arms outstretched, and then throw himself face first into the snowbank.
Charles was laughing so hard he almost didn’t notice that the couple had stopped to watch from across the street, alarm palpable as they called, “Are you two all right over there?”
Charles swallowed his laughter as best he could, waving a hand at them and shouting, “We’re quite alright! My husband is just very fond of snow!”
Their alarm turned to amusement, and they waved and continued walking away as Erik pushed himself up from the snow bank, an intense glower trained on Charles.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. You started it.”
Erik had bits of snow in his hair, now in a disarray. Charles leaned down to swipe it out, thumb brushing over where some had caught in Erik’s lashes.
“You should probably get up, though, or you’ll catch your death. You’re too old to be playing in the snow.” Charles couldn’t help the giggle at his own joke, too distracted with himself to notice at Erik rose quickly, scooped up a handful of snow, and dropped it onto Charles’ head.
“Oh my—Erik!” Charles cried, doing his best to shake it off and shuddering as a glob of snow fell behind the collar if his coat and quickly melted, sliding down his back and making him shriek.
Erik was laughing now, and he settled a hand on Charles’ shoulder, leaning down to kiss him briefly. Charles returned it grudgingly before shoving him away.
“Now I’ll be damp and uncomfortable at breakfast.” Charles complained, gripping the hand rests of his wheelchair as Erik used his power to pull him out of the snowbank so that he wouldn’t fall out.
“Whose fault is that?” Erik stroked his cheek fondly with the back of his knuckles before moving to take his handles again, pushing him down the sidewalk slowly. “Do me a favor and ask Pietro to run home and grab you a new blanket, please.”
Charles glanced down and saw that the blanket he used to keep his legs warm was wet from the snow, and he couldn’t help the pulse of affection he felt at Erik’s concern. He sent the request to Pietro along with an apology for their tardiness, and reached back to grasp Erik’s cold fingers in his gloved ones.
“I’m sorry for throwing you into the snowbank. It was childish of me.”
Erik huffed, and kissed the top of his hat. “I deserved it.”
Charles laughed, followed by Erik’s soft chuckles, and mentally replayed the scene for Wanda as she waited for them.
They psychically vowed to initiate a snowball fight with Pietro and Erik as soon as they finished with breakfast, and plans set, he settled down for the rest of their walk, enjoying the calm before the storm.