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Charles had always hated his mother's Winter Galas, and he remembered that same hate — or something more akin to annoyance than hatred at first, if he was honest — ever since he had been a wee boy, forced into a three piece suit while his nanny tried to tame his hair and he frowned the whole time, the corners of his lips downwards the whole time to show his distaste for the whole thing, until, of course, he had been obligated to play nice with the guests in the ballroom his mother had rented for the event to happen.
Such a polite child, they'd say about him, although, at the age of nine when his telepathy developed, he could hear them calling him names in their minds. He would've hated those years even more for the way he could feel people's hate and jealousy over him and his family, if it wasn't for the fact that, at the age of nine, the galas started becoming acceptable. Now, as he stood there with a glass of wine in hands, he looked around for the reason those galas had become something tolerable in the first place.
The moment Charles felt the nudge of someone trying to enter his mind he smiled, turning around to see Emma approaching him with a smile on her own lips as everyone stared at her. As always, she drew a lot of attention to herself; she looked as stunning as she always did, her off shoulder high slit white dress flowing around her as she walked, blonde hair falling over her bare shoulders. The necklace on her neck shone as the light hit the diamonds in it, and Charles knew well that whoever tried to even think those were fake would suffer her wrath. The attention was well warned, Charles thought to himself, and he could see Emma smiling just a little more when she caught that.
And, as always, she reveled a little on the attention while also ignoring it, never really showing how much it affected her. It made her seem cold at times, how she would ignore everyone's attention, but Charles knew better than to think that was the truth — or, at the very least, Emma was never cold towards him.
"Well, look who's here," Emma said once she was close enough, giving Charles an once over with her eyes. She seemed pleased that he wasn't wearing cardigans or tweed jackets for once. Lord knew how much she hated the professor look. "The man who doesn't call anymore."
"Please, I called you last not even a week ago."
"Two weeks," Emma corrected, putting her fingers in the air to make her correction even more clear. There was a quiet feeling of delight in seeing Charles again in her mind. "And you hung up too quickly because your husband needed you. Where's that rascal, by the way? I thought he would be glued to you the whole time."
"Well, Mother seemed to finally get over her mixed feelings about gay marriage when she realized she could parade Erik around the gala and tell everyone he's my husband," Charles explained, seeing Emma's eyes shining with amusement. "In her words, he's very attractive in the suit he's wearing and it'll make the single ladies and men in here jealous that a Xavier managed to get that."
"Did she say this in front of Erik?"
"She did," Charles sighed as Emma laughed. That brought another smile to his lips. "We stood there open-mouthed as she seemed to not care at all and stole Erik away right after."
"And how's he handling being your mother's arm candy?"
"He already asked for help twice, but Mother seemed adamant that I don't interrupt it and that she was bonding with my husband, so I asked Erik to hold on a little longer."
"Hopefully they'll pass us. I'd love to see Erik struggling with your mother," she laughed again, getting closer to Charles and grabbing his arm for a moment. "Would you be my arm candy for a moment and walk with me? Or do you want to break our tradition of parading around these people like we do every year and making them jealous? Choose wisely, I'll not forgive betrayal."
"Surely you won't," Charles smiled, taking Emma's arm back and letting himself get pulled with her to walk through the crowded ballroom. "But I wouldn't break that tradition for nothing. I was waiting for you so we could start."
They walked in silence at first, minds simmering around each other like they used to do when they were children. It was comfortable and familiar, and Charles' lips kept a constant smile as he walked around with Emma, looking around the room for familiar faces and stopping only when Charles needed to greet his mother's guests.
After a few minutes, however, he felt Emma's mind pulling his attention to look at something, the telepaths turning their heads to stare at Erik and Sharon Xavier talking with a couple of people in the distance. Emma looked incredibly amused as she watched the scene.
"Oh, he looks very uncomfortable," Emma snorted as Charles pitied Erik for a moment, even if he was amused himself. "But look into the people's minds… Your mother's a genius, let me tell you. They're all jealous of you or of Erik."
"She's manipulative and too proud for her own good," Charles countered, although his tone was light.
"Same thing," Emma shrugged. "You think that's why we're telepaths? Because of our parents' manipulative genes?"
"That's not how it works."
"It certainly must've helped. Even without this thing," Emma tapped on her forehead gently with a manicured nail, "I'd still know how to make people bend to my will. Dad taught me a lot, you know?"
"I know a few good therapists."
Emma slapped his arm, making Charles laugh out loud, a few heads turning to them at the interaction. Charles' smile stayed wide on his lips.
"Is Moira here with you?" Charles finally asked, realizing Emma's girlfriend was nowhere to be seen. At the sad feeling in his friend's mind he already knew the answer.
"She had work, so she couldn't come," she sighed, waving her hand in the air dismissively and pulling Charles away, Erik now going with Sharon towards another group of people and leaving their field of view. "Her research called and she had to answer, I guess. And either way, Father's here."
"You haven't told him, have you?" Emma shook her head, eyes away from Charles'. With a quiet sigh, he said, "I'm sure she wanted to be here with you."
Emma shrugged again, although her mind made it clear that she wished the woman had been there, and that her father wasn't. Even so, Emma pushed that away, stealing Charles' wine from his hand and taking a sip. He couldn't help but snort at the face she made.
"Christ, Charles, this is warm already- why do you even have red wine? I thought they were only serving champagne."
"Snuck in a bottle," he said with a grin, seeing the woman raise her eyebrows at him as they stopped at a more secluded spot. "You know I hate champagne."
"And yet you drink this thing," Emma faked a shudder, giving Charles his glass back. "How much did this bottle even cost? This tastes like cheap wine."
Charles paused, Emma's eyes narrowing.
"Four dollars."
"Erik is changing you, sugar… This is unacceptable."
"It tastes good."
"Does not."
Someone tried to invade their space in the hopes of talking with the two of them, and it was amusing to realize after how they reached out immediately to the person's mind and made them turn around together.
"Talking about Erik, did he agree on going to my yacht on New Year's Eve?"
"I'll have to miss that, darling," Charles said, seeing a frown on her face. "We'll spend the New Years with his mother in New York. Erik told me she'll be alone on the date so I offered for us to go there and keep her company this time."
"But we always spend New Year's Eve together."
Charles pressed his lips into a tight line, seeing and feeling the disappointment in Emma's face.
"You could spend the New Year with Moira and her son."
The moment he said those words, Charles saw the woman's face go pale, hand reaching for his glass and taking a sip of the wine again, regretting the decision the moment she felt the taste on her tongue — and, really, it wasn't bad wine. Charles raised his eyebrows at her.
"Have you met Kevin already?" Charles questioned.
Emma didn't speak, and Charles spoke a little louder than he should've as he uttered a "Emma!", making people look at them. Charles pushed those eyes away again.
"Listen, I'm scared the boy won't like me, don't judge me."
"I'm not, but I thought you had met Kevin already at this point… It's been months. I can't believe Moira of all people has not invited you to meet him."
Emma stayed quiet again.
"You have been finding excuses not to go," Charles said, not even trying to reach for her mind to know it was true. "Emma-"
"I'm not good with this family thing, Charles." Her voice was a little more serious now, lower. "Mine is a mess, you'd know. The idea of being part of a family… It makes me nervous- stop, don't say I'm-"
"You're part of my family," Charles said either way, making the woman groan. "And you're not your father."
She closed her face for a second, eyes looking away from Charles as her mind swirled around until her thoughts became the usually calm and collected ones that she had — cold, even, for some, although Charles could feel the emotions behind them. Charles' voice was softer when he spoke again.
"Since you haven't met Kevin yet, maybe the new year will be your chance to remedy that."
"I get drunk on New Year's Eve."
"Then don't," he suggested, seeing her scoff, although he could feel the idea forming in her mind, a little more a possibility now. "Please, talk to her and go. I'd hate to know you spent your new near alone, and I'm sure Moira and Kevin will be great company."
"Oh, so this is so you don't feel guilty that you're breaking our tradition," she pointed out, but there was no bite in her words. Emma placed a finger on his chest then, poking him there, eyes boring on him as she said, "Manipulative, see? The genes don't lie."
"That's not how genes work."
"I hope you know you'll have to make up to me for not being with me when the new year comes," she mumbled, making Charles smile a little. "And the stakes are high. You break my heart, Charles."
"How rude of me," he chuckled out, seeing her smile. "January drinking night then? For old times' sake? Just me and you, no family- that includes no Erik."
"I don't know, can you stand being separated from him for a second now?" She asked, the mocking clear in her voice. "I'm impressed you're not fighting your mother for the right of keeping your husband by your side all night."
"Sometimes I have to please her," Charles hummed, hearing Emma snort. "And Erik is annoying the guests as well by being himself, which is a plus. But yes, I'll get a day to be with you, just the two of us."
She smiled then, and Charles smiled back at the satisfaction in her mind at knowing Charles was being honest. He sometimes forgot how much he missed Emma, and how he missed having time to be around her more.
Without saying anything, he moved forward to pull her into a hug. She groaned immediately, but hugged him back, making Charles chuckle. She hated how affectionate Charles would be sometimes, but she welcomed it either way; he was the only person, other than Moira now, allowed to do it — it was an honor he never took for granted.
"Will you dance with me when the dancing starts?" Emma asked, voice muffled against Charles' shoulder.
"Of course," Charles nodded. "Erik can dance with you as well so your father doesn't have the chance of making you dance with him."
The quiet thankfulness in her mind made Charles hold her closer.
"Now, what does a girl have to do around him to get a drink?"
"All she has to do is use her telepathy to bring a waiter here."
"Can't her best friend do that for her?"
Charles faked a tired sigh, fingers going to his temple as he reached for the nearest waitress so she'd come towards them.
"You use me for my powers."
Before she could say "Manipulative genes," Charles took a drink of his warm wine, wincing himself at the taste and seeing the victorious smile on Emma's lips at the reaction.
"This means nothing."
She clearly thought differently.