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Erik loved watching Charles sleep. His boyfriend was beautiful — yes, Erik was biased — and it was only when Charles was asleep that Erik could truly look his fill. Awake, Charles would snort and roll his eyes and tell Erik to stop looking at him like he was a side of prime beef. Which Erik didn't. He liked steak, he liked steak a lot, but he flat-out loved Charles. Big difference.
Most of his friends and family didn't get it, just how much he loved Charles. Pretty much everyone had tried to dissuade him since the early days of their relationship. He was still young, did he really want to tie himself down to someone so profoundly disabled?
They just didn't get it. So fucking what that Charles was a tetraplegic. That didn't define him, or at least it shouldn't. He was funny and fiery and passionate and the smartest person Erik had ever met. That he was paralyzed was just one of the many aspects of who he was, like his dark curls or his blue eyes.
For Erik, waking up next to Charles was a privilege, and tending to his boyfriend's physical needs was simply a necessary part of having Charles in his life, no matter what the rest of the world thought.
The rest of the universe outside of his ma, that was. She'd met Charles, taken one look at the way Erik looked at him, and gotten it. He was the man her prickly, hotheaded, loner son loved, and that was all she'd needed to know.
Erik gave himself a few more minutes to watch Charles sleep, then he leaned over and kissed him awake.
Sleep-hazed cornflower-blue eyes blinked open, and his voice was raspy as he spoke. "Morning."
"Morning." Erik kissed him again, soft and gentle. "Ready to get started on the day?"
Charles pouted a little — he was never a morning person. "Kiss me again first."
So Erik did, this time gathering Charles against him, one hand cradling the back of Charles' neck, one of the few places Charles would feel his touch.
Charles' eyes glowed as the kiss came to an end and he smiled contentedly. "Love you."
"Love you, too." Erik got up and lifted Charles to a sitting position, propped against the headboard. "What do you want to wear today?"
"Jeans and the red sweater."
Erik suppressed a smile. "That's my sweater."
Charles tried — and failed — to look repentant. "I know. But it's so soft. I love the way it feels against my throat."
A pleasure Erik would never deny him, even if it was his favorite sweater. Charles could feel so little, nothing below his collarbones, so if Erik's sweater made him happy, that was all Erik needed to know.
Besides, Charles looked so good in that sweater. Erik's ma had knitted it a couple of years ago out of a super-soft wool blend in shades that ranged from a pale vermillion to brilliant scarlet to deep crimson and burgundy, and Erik loved how it played up Charles' full red lips and made his alabaster skin positively glow.
The body of the sweater was an intricate cable knit; the sleeves, a simpler diamond pattern. The bottom band and cuffs were a simple ribbed pattern, as was the cowl neck, loose and full and soft around the throat, the reason Charles loved it so much. Erik thought it was the best thing his ma had ever made.
Erik retrieved Charles' clothes, including the sweater, then his own jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt, then began the rather complicated process of getting Charles ready for the day, even as a plan formed in his head.
It wasn't until after breakfast that Erik was able to step away for a few minutes and place a call.
"Süßer? Is everything all right?"
"Everything's good, ma."
"Charles?"
"Is good. But he's also the reason I'm calling."
He could sense his ma's budding worry, and he hurried to cut it off. "Nothing bad — I just want your help with a surprise for him."
"What do you need?"
"You know that sweater you made me, the red one?"
"Yes."
"Charles loves borrowing it, says he loves the feel of it against his throat."
"And you want to give him one of his own," his mother concluded.
"Yes. In blue, to match his eyes."
"You're a good boy, Süßer." Erik could hear the maternal pride in her voice. "Give me a month, maybe six weeks, and your Charles will have his sweater."
"You're the best, ma."
"Now go kiss that boy and tell him you love him."
"Yes, ma."
Erik disconnected the call and went to do precisely what his ma had told him to do.