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Erik Lehnsherr was a grumpy bastard. He knew it, and he embraced it. It let him keep the world at arm's length, which was how he liked it.
He was a writer, a notorious recluse, who dealt only with his agent and his editor, both of whom were wise enough to not try to get close to him.
He did everything online. If something required talking to another human being, he simply didn't do it or found another way that didn't require human interaction.
Thus it was with utter astonishment that he heard his front doorbell ring, then after a minute, ring again.
He stalked toward the door, putting on what his agent, Emma, maintained was his most intimidating expression, a smile she referred to as his "sharkface."
He yanked the door open to reveal a startlingly good-looking man in a wheelchair with a plate piled high with brownies balanced in his lap.
"Hello," the man said, and damn but his voice was as attractive as his face, a rich baritone with a plummy British accent. "I'm your new neighbor, Charles Xavier." He held up the plate, and the scent was nearly enough to make Erik swoon.
"I'm your neighbor, Grumpy Bastard," Erik announced. "It is not a pleasure to meet you." With that, he took the brownies and swiftly shut the door.
The brownies were delicious.
Over the course of the next week, Erik worked his way through the brownies and otherwise managed to forget about his gorgeous neighbor.
Until his bell rang again.
Rolling his eyes, he went to the door and jerked it open. "What?"
It was his new neighbor again, and impossibly, he seemed even more attractive than before. His shaggy chestnut curls were tousled and windblown; his cornflower-blue eyes, wide and bright; and his crimson lips, curved into a soft smile.
"I'm terribly sorry to bother you, but it seems my cat jumped through your open window, and I'd like to get her back."
"You can't just wait for her to come back out?" Erik growled.
"I'm afraid I don't trust her to find her way out on her own. She's not terribly bright." Those blue eyes shone earnestly.
Erik sighed. "I'll look for her." Then, grudgingly, "You might as well come in."
His neighbor — Charles? — pushed himself inside, and Erik used his powers to shut the door behind him. If the guy was a mutantphobe, it would serve him right for bothering Erik.
But Charles seemed downright excited. "Telekinesis?"
Erik shook his head. "Magnetic fields." Then before Charles could engage in further conversation, he set off in search of the cat.
Finding her was actually ridiculously easy. She had a metal i.d. tag and a small bell on her collar, and Erik found her in his entertainment room, sprawled bonelessly on his favorite recliner. She was an untidy mound of white-with-black fluff who had left an annoying amount of that fluff on the recliner's fabric.
She blinked owlishly at him as he stalked over and scooped her up. Then he swept back out and deposited her on Charles' lap. "I think this is yours."
Charles' hands closed around her then skritched her ears. "You've been a bad girl, Marshmallow," he chided.
"Marshmallow?" What a ridiculous name for a cat.
"Yes. She's fluffy and sweet and white and doesn't have much substance."
Okay, that actually made sense.
"I really do apologize. I don't suppose you'd let me make it up to you with dinner?"
Erik was actually tempted. If Charles' cooking was as good as those brownies—
"It is," Charles assured him.
"You're a telepath."
"I am." His blue eyes had gone cool, wary.
Erik knew the prejudices telepaths faced, the fear, and Charles wouldn't get that from him. "Cool."
Charles gave him a relieved smile. "Then can I expect you for dinner?"
What the hell. "Okay."
"And would you prefer I call you Grumpy or Bastard?"
Erik chuckled. "Call me Erik."
"Come over at seven. Steaks okay?"
"Yes."
Charles turned and headed toward the door. "See you tonight then."
"How did you do it?" Erik asked?
Charles paused, turned back around. "Do what?"
"Get me to agree. I hate people."
Charles smiled. "I'm an optimist. I believe in looking for the good in people."
"Most people think I'm a lost cause."
Charles' gaze grew piercing. "You're not, Erik. You're not."
Erik allowed himself a small smile. "I guess we'll see."
"Yes. We will."