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"Erik just blew up a government facility," Alex informs him one morning, and Charles really had been looking forward to a nice, uneventful day.
"He needs to be stopped," Hank cuts in. "Possibly permanently," he adds darkly. Everyone is looking expectantly at Charles. Who says:
"Oh dear."
-
"I will have a chat with him," he tells them, patiently waiting for everyone to leave.
Nobody moves, and finally Hank says, "I feel you need to do more than chat with him."
"Let's not over-react, shall we," Charles replies, and they all stare at him until he says, "Don't you all have work to do." They file out of his study slowly, disappointment and confusion hanging around them like a dark cloud.
Charles waits until the door clicks shut before he mentally calls out to Emma.
I keep telling you, Xavier, stop using me as your fucking intercontinental booty call transmitter.
This is business, love, Charles protests mildly. Be a dear and fetch Erik for me. He knows that Erik has left standing instructions for Emma to relay all messages that Charles sends to her. Well, almost all. Apparently she's supposed to ignore the ones where he's "bitching and moaning like a girl."
Which in Charles' mind is patently unfair: he never bitches and he certainly does not moan. Most of the time.
Bitching and moaning like a girl. I cry less than you two. Still, she sends Erik, who shows up in a cloud of red and magenta and a vaguely threatening swirl of his cape.
"Ah, Erik," Charles says. "Tea?"
Erik growls. "You wanted me. I'm busy, Charles."
"Yes, of course," Charles says, as Erik slumps into the chair across from him, throwing one leg over the arm. It's very distracting. "I've heard some disturbing things about the Brotherhood's recent plans."
Erik's scowl deepens. "What of them."
Charles takes a delicate sip of his tea. "You can't just overthrow an entire government."
"I can't?"
"Well of course you can." He pats Erik reassuringly on the arm. "It just seems like a lot of work afterwards. You'd have to establish your own cabinet, appoint people." He pauses. "Conduct interviews with the press. School visitations might be necessary."
"School visitations?"
"Well, you don't want everyone to completely hate and fear you. Interacting with children is publicity, I'm told."
"I could be a dictator. They don't have to kiss babies."
Charles sighs and puts down his teacup to mime removing a helmet with his hands.
"Ah," Erik says, and deposits it unceremoniously onto the table.
Charles licks his thumb and reaches forward -
"Really," Erik stares at him. But he's already halfway there. Defiantly, he smooths down the cowlick. Erik's expression remains frozen.
Charles widens his eyes.
"Won't work," Erik says, grabbing his wrist gently and twisting so it rests on the table, palm up and Erik's fingers pressed against the pulse.
Charles widens his eyes even further.
"I told you."
"Past experience has proven -"
"Not with me." A beat. "Your pulse is elevated," he notes idly.
"You're touching me."
A glimmer of amusement, finally. "That works." His thumb traces the skin across Charles' wrist. "So you were advising me on how I could just lecture everyone into submission," Erik says. "Over cups of tea."
Charles is stunned into silence for the briefest of moments, not least of which because - "Erik, you do realize I can't actually feel your leg playing footsie with mine under the table, don't you?"
"Yes," Erik says airily. "But surely you can feel mine."
Charles clears his throat. "Yes. Well, carry on then."
"You were saying, Charles. About my plans."
"Oh yes. I will have to oppose you, of course. And I'll be so busy doing that -"
Erik's hand stops creeping up his thigh. "How busy."
"Very."
"On a scale of one to ten."
"Horribly busy."
"A ten?" Erik starts to look faintly concerned.
"Well, perhaps a nine."
"No time for tea, then."
Charles puts his cup down with finality. "None."
Erik narrows his eyes, and for a brief moment it seems as if he will just get up and swish off. Finally though he only says, "Entertaining children, huh?"
"It's fine, they love you."
Erik's hand resumes its path up. "You can stop talking now, Charles."
-
Afterwards, Charles lifts himself back into his chair and watches as Erik puts his boots back on. Erik's hair is a mess, and Charles' fingers twitch, but Erik shoots a glare at him as if he's the telepath, and Charles manages to restrain himself.
Erik says, softly, "This won't always work, you know."
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, I suppose," Charles replies. "You should invite your ah, associates over sometime."
"Why would I possibly want to do that?"
"I make a fantastic herb pasta." This is true. Even Erik can't deny that.
"Would the women be safe," Erik asks, the side of his mouth quirking up.
"We are working on recruiting women," Charles replies, only a little defensively. "You're very judgemental."
"Oh, am I." Erik picks up his helmet and places it back on his head, whistles low. "Next time, Charles."
-
Everyone stumbles back into the room once Erik is gone. Almost as if they'd been waiting outside. Charles frowns.
"Well?" Hank demands.
Charles waves his hands around. "We had a nice conversation. Magneto is capable of seeing reason if it's pointed out to him."
Alex throws his hands up. "Of course he is. Right up until he chooses to commit another act of violent terrorism."
"Mhm," Charles replies, taking another sip of his tea and beatifically ignoring Hank's glare. He grimaces. The tea's gone cold.
As they all troop out, Sean leans in and whispers, "Professor, I think your shirt's buttoned up wrongly."
Charles glances down at himself. "So it is. Thank you, Sean."
Emma pokes at him as he's rolling into the kitchen to make himself another cup of tea. Nicely played.
I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. He shuts out her irritated reply and hums quietly to himself as he steeps his tea.