Archive of Our Own

“Dad,” Pietro starts in that tone of voice. 

Erik loves his children. He does. He has grown to love them more than anything in this life. Unfortunately, this means he knows them better than he knows himself. One could never finish knowing their children, but he’d wager he has such an understanding of his twins that he can categorize every single tone of voice they have. 

This one—the little emphasis on the only vocal, the way he can tell Pietro already knows what he wants from this conversation before he even begins to breach the topic… yes, well, certainly not his favorite one from him. 

“Son,” Erik answers. Hopefully Pietro doesn't beat around the bush. 

“Do you, perhaps, by any chance… happen to know Charles Xavier?” 

Erik is a fool for thinking this would not come up at all. That he simply wasn’t involved with this place. His children wanted to sign up to help one of the biggest mutant centers around, and the place screamed 'Charles Xavier' all over it. He's taken back to simpler times—running around a hospital, going to bars, walking that line between friendship and romance as one does. Falling into bed together, tangled up on each other, sharing pasts and secrets Erik never had the heart to tell anyone else but Charles. 

“A bit,” he lies, even though there is no reason to. Wanda and Pietro are nineteen. Certainly the age where they can know, in fact, that their father had loved other people after losing their mother's love. “Did you meet him?” 

“Are you sure about knowing him a bit?” Wanda asks. From the rear-view mirror, he catches that eyebrow of hers perfectly arched—a trait that might as well have been copied and pasted from Erik onto her. “He seemed quite shocked.”

Damn it, Charles. 

“Did he now?” 

“He said he thought you disappeared altogether,” Pietro continues, “and that he was pleased to know you were doing well. And with children.”

“I see,” Erik says noncommittally. His heart is pounding faster than it should. “Well, I haven't seen him in a few decades.”

“How many?” 

“Around two,” he lies again. The thing about Charles Xavier is that one is never truly free from him—and, much to Erik's delight and chagrin, he's quite difficult to quit. Erik always found himself in odd places, yearning for a meeting. Stolen time. A chess game. Even if it all led to Erik cutting their connection, focusing full time on the twins and remaining low. “It's honestly not as intriguing as it sounds.”

“I dunno,” Pietro continues. "You should've seen him. He looked like he saw a ghost when he read our application.”

Damn it, Charles. 

“Did you know he was running this mutant center?” Wanda asks. “Is this a ploy to reconnect with your… friend?” 

No, it wasn't. Erik had done a bit of background digging, and had asked Emma Frost about just how genuine Jean Grey's center was in regards to mutants—is it actually a mutant center? Or is it just an actual ring for trafficking mutants? And after being assured that no, it was a normal center, yes you could help if you wanted, it had been fine. Charles Xavier's name wasn't even plastered on it, which is weird, because he's always been a bit of an attention seeker. 

So no. He wasn't trying to reconnect with him. Erik had thought their relationship had been a thing of the past now. Memories he'd always look back on fondly, and fallouts that would make him wonder if anything could have been altered. 

“It isn't,” Erik says honestly for once. “I thought whoever Jean Grey is was meant to run the place.”

“She does. We met her. Charles Xavier does the second wave of interviews, like some sort of psychic screening. Felt like a job interview,” Wanda sighs. “But we passed, obviously, and I guess he read your name on our emergency contact and freaked out.”

Pietro snorts. “Yeah. He said, 'Terribly sorry, but do you mind if I ask you how you know Erik Lehnsherr?'” he mimics in a scarily good impression of how Charles typically sounds. “I said, 'He's our dad,' and he went, 'Dear Lord, I thought I was simply seeing the family resemblance. Goodness.'”

That did sound like him. 

Erik wants to put his head against the wheel. He's a little too old for this sort of thing. How would he even begin to reconnect with Charles— if he did? His heart is about to beat so fast it stops. He is really not the age to be doing this anymore. And yet, his own brain betrays him as images of Charles' smile flash; the sound of his laughter, the feel of his skin against Erik's all hit him all at once. 

Perhaps he should do an U-turn, walk in, give no explanations, kiss him to get it out of his system, and go away again. 

“We were friends,” Erik explains. Friends is a bit too short, but he can't deny that for the longest time, Charles Xavier was his one and only friend in the world. “We had some disagreements that led us to stop being friends. But I have always thought highly of him. I remember him rather fondly.”

A bit too fondly, in fact. 

Wanda speaks up again. “What disagreements?” 

“We saw mutants and how to fight oppression towards us in rather different ways,” Erik explains. That's the tip of the iceberg. “At that time, I was—how should I put it? A lot more hot-headed than I am now.”

“You mean like Pietro?” 

“Wow.”

“I suppose Pietro got it from me,” Erik allows a laugh. “I wasn't willing to concede a point. Eventually, despair found us, and you could say I left him.”

After all, the image of Charles' heartbroken expression holding Gabrielle Haller as Erik floated away from him is something he couldn't forget, no matter how hard he tried. And he has most definitely tried.

“So much for knowing him a bit,” Pietro says mockingly. “This is like an entire book of background history.”

“Yes, perhaps I miscalculated how much I know him.”

A beat passes between them before Wanda asks, “Is this tied to your time leading the Brotherhood?” 

The Brotherhood, in fact, had been formed after he left Charles. And then it lasted a little bit longer after he found out about Wanda and Pietro—two young teenagers who he could've lost to bigotry had he not acted fast enough. He couldn't—he couldn't lead and take care of them at the same time. He couldn't save the world and save his relationship with his family. He couldn't exert endless violence and practice love at home. He couldn't continue putting Wanda and Pietro through everything—they had been so young, and Erik had been all they had, and really—

He probably gave up the helmet too soon. He doesn't regret it. 

“No,” he answers truthfully. “I'm afraid that came after I left him.”

“You left him?” asks Pietro, curious. 

Oh, that was not meant to slip out as a fact. 

“Anyhow, I am… glad you met him,” he says. He's starting to get memories he'd rather not relive; hushed encounters with Charles, looking down at him as he expresses his disappointment at Erik's methods. He would never understand. Probably would judge the fact that Erik still sleeps with the Magneto helmet underneath his bed, never free of that urge, of insecurity. “Despite our disagreements, he is a very good man.”

He doesn't need the mirror to know Pietro is also arching an eyebrow. He raised his children to be too perceptive, willing to poke holes in arguments. Conversely, he also raised them to have more compassion than Erik ever had, so Pietro lets the topic go. 

“He seemed fine,” Pietro says casually. “If you cared, I mean. He's doing good.”

“Good,” Erik says. “I'm glad.”

“You can visit him, I guess,” Wanda adds. 

“I could.”

“...You're not doing it, are you?” Wanda asks again. 

“Not if I can help it,” Erik answers, and then changes the topic to ask what they want for dinner. 

But like most things in life, this is not going to be something that lets go of Erik. 

At home, while Pietro decides he’s the one making dinner for them, Erik goes upstairs.

For the first time in a while, he takes out the suitcase under his bed—the one that contains the Magneto helmet. Next to it, however, is a framed picture that he can’t forget even if he puts it away from his sight.

A picture of him with his arm around Charles Xavier, decades younger, and impossibly happier.

Erik sighs.

He takes out the framed picture and sets it on his night stand once more.

There’s a nagging feeling that he might come back to this again.

“Dad,” David says, in what Charles has learned to identify as a ‘You-are-not-shielding-as-well-as-you-thought’ tone of voice. “Who’s Erik Lehnsherr?”

“Oh! I’m glad you asked first,” Xandra claps happily next to him. “I was going to ask, but I thought it was—uh—impolite. But you’re just,” she waves her hand in front of her, “like waving his name at us very intensely.”

Charles stops on his track. Neither of his kids point out that he stopped wheeling, but he resumes smoothly, like nothing had ever happened. Who is Erik Lehnsherr, anyway? Reading his name earlier… it's as if somebody gripped Charles' heart and started squeezing it. 

God, and his children! That boy was the spitting image of Erik. When did that happen? After they fell out? Had they existed already, in those spontaneous encounters they had every now and then? Are they the reason the Brotherhood's leader suddenly vanished, even though Charles had been fearing the day he would come face-to-face with Magneto? 

Still, he should start with the truth, at least. David and Xandra deserve an honest father. 

“He's a friend of mine,” Charles says, which is not the whole truth—but might as well be a place to start. 

“I didn't know you had more friends!” Xandra pipes up curiously. “I thought we knew all of them.”

“None of them have recollections of an Erik Lehnsherr, either,” David adds. Charles turns to look at him. “Don't look at me like that. I only scratched their surface thoughts!” 

“It's alright. So long as you don't go digging deeper than you should,” he says, promptly deciding to not listen to David say I fucking know already, geez, “Erik Lehnsherr is an old friend, I should say. I met him around twenty years ago. He was the first mutant I've ever met, and perhaps the only best friend I've ever had.”

Keeping his shields in check, he allows the memories to wash over him. Sometimes he could still feel the burning sun against his skin, the way Erik would stop and adjust Charles' hat every time they went out, the way no amount of high temperatures ever seemed to make Charles want to put distance between them. Oh, and when there was no distance between them—Erik had always been a dedicated, passionate, and at times delicate lover. It was unfair to everyone else who came after him, really, because although Charles tried—and by God he tried—it would always lead back to comparing how it used to be with Erik.

Even with all the disagreements. And arguing. And, it never got to it—but Charles assumed at one point he would have inevitably had to fight the Brotherhood. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done, had he been face-to-face with his X-Men and the Brotherhood, but he knows… his feelings wouldn’t have changed, probably. Not even on the other side of the battlefield.

Erik Lehnsherr was dangerous if he wanted to be, but perhaps more dangerous was the hold he had on Charles without even so much as doing anything. All it took was to read his name and it’s like he’s twenty years younger, running after him from place to place, seeking any excuse to be with him, to be close to him. Well. It wouldn’t be like this now—after all, he’s got David and Xandra. Erik’s got Wanda and Pietro. Whatever they were to each other, it would not come in the way of raising their kids.

“So what happened?” asks David again, bringing him back to the conversation at hand. “If he was such a good friend to you, why have we never heard of him?”

“Ah, well, you see. Sometimes people get into disagreements,” Charles says. “In our case, it was a pretty fundamental disagreement. He believed in ensuring mutantkind would remain superior to humans, and if he had to do so by violent ways, then it shall be it. I believed in a more, ah, pacifist approach. We could thrive as a species if we integrated. A lot of hope into the future, believing if we kept trying, perhaps we could have lived to see the results of it.”

He doesn’t need to see David to know he’s cocked his head. “You don’t really believe that anymore.”

“Well. Erik was right, on some points,” Charles agrees. It’s one of those things he’s never voiced, as no one has ever known about their previous friendship. They both have managed to carve out a life without the other. It’s such a quintessential part of who he is that never gets aired out again. “I was a little too idealistic.”

“A little?”

“I was very idealistic,” he concedes. David suppresses a snort. “Some friendships don’t survive a rift in ideologies.”

Xandra hums, taking the information in. “That doesn’t sound like the whole truth, dad.”

“Well,” he adds. “There was David’s mom. Nazis. A lot of gold. It was a whole thing.”

“What?” David asks him. “Ma?”

“Oh, yes, well, we were all friends,” Charles explains hurriedly. “Erik and I volunteered at a hospital, and she was—” Oh, no, this is going horribly wrong. “It’s a story for another day. The point is, I believed that was it for our friendship, until right now—we got some applications today. Jean sent them, a pair of twins, for me to do my screening. The son is the spitting image of Erik. Of course, it could be a coincidence, but it was a little obvious when I read the emergency contacts and saw his name then. I suppose it’s bringing back memories, that’s all. Sorry for the poor shielding on my part.”

“That’s fine! It’s nice to hear from you,” Xandra smiles, always resembling the sun. “Are you planning on meeting Erik again?”

And that’s just the thing, isn’t it? There is nothing stopping him now. For so long, it's been like this: attending rallies, hoping for the brush of a familiar mind against his own. Checking newspapers, trying to find any movements of his. Any hint. There had been a part of him trying to convince himself that if Erik had wanted him in his life, he would have let him know. But he's always been stubborn to let go, and he's loved Erik too long. It was a habit hard to quit. 

And then David had walked in his life, prompting Charles to try harder. There was a part of him that broke when David came along; a culture shock. He had been happy about training the X-Men, to continue training the next generation—

But then he had seen his son, who must have been twelve, and tried to picture him on the battlefield. Tried to picture him going through the hell the X-Men constantly went through. And something simply snapped—this wasn't… it wasn't the future he had wanted for mutants. Those nights dreaming with Erik, talking about the future… it wasn't meant to be like this. Is this all there was to it? Fighting for a world that hated them? 

David had broken him as much as he had healed him. 

And then Xandra came out of nowhere, with not much explanation other than I can't let her experience all this war and violence with the Shi'ar up here. Her time will come. In the meantime, she is going to be safe with you. Charles didn't have the heart to tell Lilandra there was not that much difference between space and Earth. 

Besides—David had loved her as soon as he met her. As did Charles. How was he ever going to give up on these kids who meant the world to him? 

Charles shakes his head. He's going to have a long night. Erik Lehnsherr—Charles hasn't even seen him. He's only seen his name. And all these thoughts simply popped up. 

“I should, shouldn't I?” Charles muses to himself, even though he's answering Xandra. “I wonder if he'd want to see me.”

“I mean, you won't lose anything by trying,” David reasons. “Plus, you can—ah… you can tell him you've changed and all that. Who knows? Maybe two decades later you guys are more similar now.”

“Wouldn't that be ideal?” Charles smiles, trying to picture it. What does Erik look like now? He'd love to find out. “All right, children. What are we having for dinner?” 

“Anything that doesn't have eggs in it,” David says. 

“Oddly specific. Why?” 

“I turned into a ball of light the other day,” Xandra explains. “I played a prank on David by pretending to be an egg before he did his breakfast and I horrified him.”

“Now I'm always going to associate eggs with my sister!” he throws his hands up. “It's wrong and gross!” 

Right on cue, Xandra turns into a ball of light again. 

David exclaims, horrified. 

Charles laughs along, enjoying their good-hearted bickering. It successfully pushes Erik out of his thoughts as he begins to tell Xandra that no, playing pranks on your older brother isn't a good idea. He's not going to think about Erik anymore. 

Charles stares at his ceiling later, wide awake. 

“I need to see Erik.”

So much for a peaceful night. 

Now that they were done with high school, the mutant center was meant to be a ‘gap year’ of sorts for the twins.

Erik couldn’t blame them. They didn’t have the most conventional childhood, and Erik had been aghast when his teenage children had told him they were not particularly looking forward to following their father’s cause blindly. They wanted to experience some normalcy, go to school, not… bring down facilities and dismantle systems that hated them and—

“Can we go back to smashing some labs? Kidnapping a senator?” Pietro asks, looking over at the sheets that were assigned to him from the mutant center. 

Erik still smashes labs and kidnaps senators here and there. It’s not knowledge the twins—or anyone else—should ever know, though. 

“Look who’s crawling back to the cause,” he says, although the twins have always wanted what Erik wants. They simply had a point, though: no one should be a child soldier. Nobody’s youth should be stolen from them like Erik’s was. “Rough time at the center?”

“It’s really not a rough time,” Wanda says as she’s making herself a smoothie. She expertly cuts everything without even paying attention to it, letting her powers do it for her, focused on her own sheets. “Pietro chose the activities to read to children and realized he goes way too fast for them. He’s looking for books that he won’t read in five minutes.”

“It’s hard! Do you see this schedule? Reading time should be at least an hour. I finish this in five minutes!”

Erik raises one eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you try to read slower instead of finding longer books?”

“No. I swear the problem is them, not me,” he huffs. Erik watches him speed through another book in a second. “I could stretch this one out.”

“Suit yourself,” Erik tells him. He’ll notice his errors eventually. “What are you doing at the center, Wanda?”

“Oh,” she plugs in the blender and moves closer to Erik to talk. “Tutoring. To teenagers. I know I don’t have the best track record with grades—”

She and Pietro, in fact, consistently brought home C and C+, which obviously made Erik really proud and hung it on his fridge.

“—but it turns out it’s easier to understand it when you’re not the one having to study it to save your life. So yes. I’m a biology tutor now.”

“Biology? You?”

“It’s like basic biology,” Wanda finishes making her smoothie. She serves it for the three of them, and Pietro finishes it in a blink of an eye. Erik, however, grabs the straw and decides to savor it. Wanda continues, “Everything is easier to teach in the first module. After that, I don’t know. There’s lots to do, though. It’s a pretty big building.”

“All of it is for the center? Is it not a shared building?”

“Nope! Crazy, right?” Pietro looks equally bewildered. “Whoever Jean Grey is, she must be extremely rich to have an entire building dedicated to it. But what’s crazier is the amount of volunteers. I can’t even keep count. How does everyone fit in there?”

“It’s a huge building,” Wanda replies. She’s beginning to sound like an automated response machine, something she usually falls into with Pietro. “Clearly they’re going to fit there. It’s like twelve stores.”

“It’s not twelve stores. Get real. No building is that big.”

“I’m exaggerating, genius. Do you want more smoothies?”

“Yes. That was not filling,” Pietro grins at her, “It tasted great, by the way, I love you sis.”

“Yes, yes,” Wanda waves him off and starts up blending again. “We’re leaving for the bus in a second, dad.”

“Have fun,” Erik says. “I will pick you up at eight. Good?”

“Yup,” Pietro answers. “Can we have McDonald’s for dinner?”

He relives every day of the week to see if they’ve already indulged in McDonald’s for dinner. They haven’t. He nods, so he’s hit with a whole Pietro giving him a fast hug, and then Wanda giving him another as they say their goodbyes.

Erik grabs the blender and starts washing it.

She must be extremely rich to have an entire building dedicated to it.

Oh, it’s so undoubtedly Charles’ doing.

Would he be there tonight? Erik’s got to admit he’s started to… picture, maybe, what it would be like to talk to him again. What would he even look like? It’s been so long. Perhaps he even…

He begins drying the blender. Perhaps he’s married and moved on from Erik, as he should. It’s not like he’s meant to wait for Erik forever. In fact, Erik was sure they would never see each other again—not for lack of wanting to, but simply—ah… they were too different. Relationships never survived ideological differences, but the few months they had for each other and then the sporadic meetings—even then, even when they weren’t on the same page, Erik wouldn’t have changed them for the world.

It’s been a while, though. 

Erik finds that his anger has receded as the years come. He can call up to it, and sometimes it’s like even if the world stripped him from everything his passion would be the last thing they’d take. But what used to be an urge to impose himself, to show who’s better than humans, to make them quiver and to fear him, it’s grown to be… tiring. Nowadays, he wants peace—if he has to force his way through it, so be it, but not even a fight calls him anymore. It’s a last resort. 

And Charles had always, always been such a hopeful idealist. Perhaps this would be a middle ground for him—Erik not willing to exercise his strength over others; this quiet embrace of life, and wanting to be there for his family. They’re always going to clash, fundamentally, because the undeniable truth is that this war will wage on for as long as they exist. It just didn’t have to suck the life out of Erik.

He checks his watch. It was barely four. Eight was so far away.

“How’s the situation over at Indiana?” Ororo asks.

So yes, technically, he did give up the Brotherhood. He had given the reins to Ororo, who, he had to admit—was doing a better job at leading it than he ever had. It was no surprise, either—Ororo was simply one of a kind. A goddess. Erik sometimes found himself grateful that she was on his good side, because he wouldn’t know what to do as her opponent.

“I took care of the lab,” Erik explains, adjusting his clothes. He’s got to pick up Wanda and Pietro in two hours. Was he preparing to look good in case he ran into Charles Xavier? Yes. Was he hinging a lot on a possible if? Also yes. “I took the kids to Emma. There were no teenagers, no adults. Only children. I am assuming they match with the missing person posters we have. They seemed conscious when I left, and Emma promised me her students had it handled. Is it true?”

“I haven’t checked in with her yet, but if she told you her students had it, it’s most likely true,” she answers. She’s pointedly avoiding to say how Erik keeps tugging at his sleeves and rolling them up, only to put them down again. “We are running out of space in some of our bases. Emma says she’s got it covered, but I am not—I don’t wish to burden her even more. She’s already running a school and pulling the strings whenever she can. Any ideas?”

“Wanda and Pietro have begun to volunteer at a mutant center. It’s one of the biggest ones in town, and it’s a forty-five minute drive from here to there. Apparently in the name of Jean Grey, but—” he trails off a little. If he says the next thing, it’s going to be more incriminating than anything he’s ever said.

Ororo presses on. “But what, Erik? Is it not safe?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s run by Jean Grey, but it seems to be owned by Charles Xavier.”

Well, now it was out. If there was something Ororo and Erik shared, it was a connection to Charles Xavier. She had briefly taken shelter at his school, when Xavier’s School for Gifted Kids still existed, but ultimately left a bit too soon—not really interested in anything he had to offer, but overall thankful for the man himself. The topic had come up a few times between them, especially when Ororo started to show more interest in joining the Brotherhood. 

…But it also meant she knew, somehow, about Erik’s not-so-platonic interest in Charles Xavier.

She points at his outfit. “Is that why you look so fancy? Are you going to meet him?”

“I—” Erik huffs. “No, I’m not. I simply dress like this.”

Ororo gives him a knowing look.

“My point is,” Erik carries on, “if—if I meet Charles again, I could—I mean, he is rich. And he loves helping mutants. Surely he must have so much property he’s not using. Like his mansion.”

“That would be very good,” Ororo agrees. “If you manage to talk to him, of course. Which is why you are dressing up.”

“I’m not,” he insists. He rolls up his sleeves again.

“Leave the sleeves up.”

“I trust you,” he says, leaving them up. Isn’t that too much skin showing? Erik’s being indecent. And he might not even see Charles! It’s not like he’s always at the center. “I should, I need to—”

“Pick up Wanda and Pietro,” Ororo supplies like he’s humoring a child, and not someone who’s at least twenty-something years older. 

“Yes. And—I’ll be—” Erik vaguely gestures at the door. “On my way, then.”

Ororo snorts. “Don’t let me keep you from your ex. Thank you for your help, Erik. Your support, even behind the scenes, does a lot for the Brotherhood.”

“Oh, nonsense, child. You basically carry it. I am simply doing what I can to contribute,” he grins at her. “I am at your orders. Thank you for dropping by.”

Ororo gives him a hug, and before long, she’s flying off again.

He does miss it, going and doing everything himself. But he doesn’t have the heart to do it again.

He does, however, have the heart to go pick up his children.

And possibly see Charles.

“Hey dad,” Wanda says, stepping outside the building as Erik steps out of the car. With a wave of his hand, the doors open for his children and…

Erik stops on his tracks. There’s a kid between them—he had to be around the twins’ age, if not a little younger. 

“Can we give David a ride to his house?” Wanda continues, unaware of how Erik’s fixated on him. “Pietro and I wanted him to come with us because he’s cool, and—”

Erik wishes he could pay attention. The kid’s got different colored eyes, but the cheekbones and the expression are so, so oddly similar to Charles, he doesn’t know what to do with this. Is that his child? When did Charles get children? Well, it’s not as if Erik told him about Wanda and Pietro. They didn’t owe each other anything. It might not even be Charles’ kid, and simply a kid that happens to look—

“I need you to stop thinking about my father,” David speaks up, addressing Erik directly. “Yes, my dad is Charles Xavier. You can, um, take it up with him if you want to know why he never mentioned me to you, but please, you’re like—flashing his name at me. You’re just like him.”

“Did you read his mind?” Pietro asks, buzzing. “Badass.”

“Apologies, David, it’s nice to meet you. Usually, telepaths can’t read my mind so very easily. I’m impressed.”

David shrugs. “Most telepaths aren’t as powerful as me.”

Oh, he likes the attitude. Although he speaks it as a fact, and it most likely is one—Emma had taught Erik how to shield, and long before her, Charles spent nights awake with him, playing chess, having a go at keeping each other out of their thoughts. It had worked miles better than Emma’s lessons. Not that she’d ever find out.

“It is a fact,” David says. “Sorry, I—I’ll start blocking it out now. But. Yes. Charles Xavier, that’s my dad.”

“Hey, that’s the guy you mentioned,” Wanda pipes up, grinning at Erik. “We’re all connected! How fun. So, dad, are we driving David with us?”

“Yes, of course. Sorry about that minor hiccup,” Charles Xavier has a son, “please, David, come in. If you’d be so kind as to guide us to your home.”

They all go inside the car, with Erik trying his best to remain calm.

“Dad, guess what. David is an Omega level mutant,” Pietro babbles excitedly, “and he’s only seventeen! How cool is that?”

Oh, Charles has had a son for seventeen years? With who? He looks vaguely like Gabrielle, but it couldn’t be, could it? Oh, Erik left both of them behind back in the sixties, there was plenty of time—but no, it made no sense because he had broken off things with Gabrielle, it—

“Can I insert the directions inside your head, Mr. Lehnsherr?” David asks. “It’s easier than talking.”

“Go ahead,” Erik says. David’s going to enter his mind again. Fuck. 

Puppies. Ducks. Zoos. Seinfeld re-runs. Star Trek. Pietro putting on Star Wars. No mention of Charles—

“You need help,” David says after downloading the address into him. “My father reacted like that when he saw your name.”

“Oh. He—” Erik takes a short breath. “He talked about me?”

“He said you were friends,” he continues. “I don’t know. Maybe you guys should talk.”

“Is he home?”

“Probably.”

Erik’s too old for this.

“So, Omega-level mutant,” he continues. “You’re helping Pietro?”

“David is his new reading assistant,” Wanda explains. “Now, I don’t know how much assisting you need with reading, but…”

Pietro scoffs. “You guys don’t know how cool David is. He can create illusions! So whenever we read he’s making things as we go. Isn’t that cool?”

“Oh, is that a telepathy trick?” Erik asks. 

“Sort of,” David answers. “It’s not as ‘cool’—”

“No, it’s cool,” Wanda adds. “I really felt like I was in a fairytale! And all the kids loved it!”

“I thought you were tutoring,” Erik says.

“I—got bored,” Wanda says hurriedly.

“Of tutoring?”

“The point is it looked cool!”

“You sound like a rather gifted young man, David,” he smiles.

“...Thanks,” David says. He looks a little funny, sandwiched between the twins, but not necessarily touching them. “I’m glad I can be of help.”

“Totally. Now I have friends at the center!” Pietro grins. “Everyone is sooooo old there. Scott is like forty.”

“Scott is not forty,” Wanda immediately says.

“He acts like it. He’s always monitoring everything.”

“Dad always commends him for that,” David sighs. “I’m afraid Scott is just like that.”

“How long have you been at the center, David?” Erik asks.

“Oh, that? Well, my dad founded it ten years ago. He gave it to Jean, though. Sorry, aunt Jean. I really don’t like calling them my relatives, though, they’re not. But I guess it’s cool. I started—I came around here when I was twelve or so. So since then. My sister and I stop by often.”

Sister?

Charles has two kids?

“Cool, you have a sister!” Pietro exclaims. “You’re like me and Wanda.”

“Uh, she’s not my twin. She’s my half-sister. She’s also an alien.”

What?

Charles had an alien daughter with who? 

“Bad ass,” Pietro says. “Alien sister.”

“She’s pretty cool,” he says, fondly.

“Is she also a mutant?” asks Wanda.

“Yes, she is. She’s also a telepath. I guess that X-gene is too strong.”

Erik is arriving at their address. What if Charles was there? What if Charles was there with his new spouse? What if Charles is there with his two different spouses? What if Charles is there? What if Charles is there? What if—

Erik parks in front of the house. It’s a huge house.

Charles is at the main gate, wheeling out, with another young teen girl next to him.

Erik is going to throw up.

“We’re here,” Erik says. He steps out of the car, waves his hand to open the rest of the doors, and Pietro steps out. Then David, then Wanda.

“Thank you, Mr. Lehnsherr,” David says, but his eyes are fixed on his father, who is coming out—slightly faster than before.

Everyone might be holding their breath. Maybe that’s just Erik.

Finally, Charles arrives.

His gaze weighs just as heavy as always.

Those eyes of his—

Erik’s unable to look away.

“Erik,” he breathes out. 

There was always a way for him to make Erik’s name sound so special.

“Charles,” he says back. His heart is beating on his throat. “It’s good to see you.”

Without having time to feel self-conscious about it, he traces every bit of metal that he can feel. There’s no ring on his hand. He wants to sag with relief, as stupid as it sounds. Not on his hand, not hidden behind a necklace, not anywhere on him. 

“Yes, yes, likewise. It’s been so long,” he says, and that’s an understatement. Finally, like he believes it’s happening, a smile spreads across Charles’ face. So beautiful, so lovely, just as warm as he remembers. “My friend, we—”

This is horrible. He’s still so horribly in love with him.

“Hi dad,” David interjects.

Charles blinks, as though coming out of a daze, and his attention diverts to his son. “David! My boy,” he greets warmly, a twinkle to his eyes Erik had never seen before. “I see you’ve made some friends!”

“Hi!” Pietro waves. “I’m Pietro.”

“I’m Wanda,” she says. “David’s our new cool friend.”

David looks… uncomfortable? He looks at his feet, then at his sister like she could take them away. 

“He’s helping me with reading to the kids at the center. He’s so cool. We just wanted to drop him off!”

“And thank you very kindly,” Charles tells them with that warmth only he can have. “I appreciate you getting my son safely home. You didn’t have to.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Erik waves it off.

“But thank you again,” David speaks up again. “I had fun.”

“Are you coming tomorrow? You should come tomorrow. Remember I told you to watch Star Wars. Please?”

David nods at Pietro. “I’ll do my best.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Wanda says. “Bring your sister! Hi! I’m Wanda.”

“Xandra,” she replies brightly.

“Xandra! Stop by and hang out with us!”

Erik can’t stop looking at Charles. The children are chatting, but he’s still staring at him. He looks good. Oh, he looks so good. His chest is aching with something he can’t quite name—longing, yearning. He’s twenty years younger, he’s ten years younger, he’s five years younger—and he is so, so, so deeply in love.

Charles’ smile is still as charming as the first time.

He doesn’t quite know what to say. All words begin and end inside his throat.

“Children, we have a McDonald’s to go to,” he ends up saying. That’s not what he wanted to say. Oh, but if he stands any second longer in front of Charles he’ll explode. “We ought to leave David and his family for now.”

“Erik,” Charles says. Oh, his voice. Erik’s never going to be immune to it. “We must catch up at some point.”

Erik’s quite helpless not to smile. “I’d love to.”

Their gazes linger on each other again.

“McDonald’s,” Wanda reminds.

“Right, right. I, my number, you can call—or you can see me at the center, or…”

“Your number would be lovely,” Charles says.

Erik rushes to the car. He opens the glove compartment and takes out the notebook and pen he always carries and hurries to scribble his number. He passes it to Charles, hoping his hand isn’t shaking, and Charles takes it gratefully.

“I’ll be calling,” Charles tells him. Erik nods. “It’s so lovely to see you.”

“Likewise. I will be—” he jerks his thumb back at the car. “McDonald’s.”

“Of course. Most important.”

“Yes.” He really doesn’t want to say goodbye. “See you.”

“See you. And thank you for bringing David, again.”

“Anytime.”

Finally, he musters the courage to tear his eyes away from Charles, turn around, and march back to the car with his kids.

Erik gets in, rolls up the windows, and begins driving away.

Five minutes later, Wanda says, “Dad, that was very embarrassing.”

“I know. Let’s all be quiet until we get to McDonald’s.”

It was the longest, quietest drive to McDonald’s ever.

“Dad, that was very fucking embarrassing,” David says.

“I know,” Charles rubs his eyes as they all go back inside their house. “I don’t know what happened to me. I need to call him and apologize.”

“I thought it was funny,” Xandra said. “Dad, your emotions were like—” she does a little wave with her hands, like she’s illustrating the arch of a rainbow. “All over the place!”

Why did both of his kids have to be very powerful telepaths? It was so hard to keep a secret around this house. Charles needs to find an isolated room and let all his emotions go out, because this was way too much. Good God, how does Erik manage to stay so gorgeous no matter how much time passes?

Infuriating, is what it is. His hands tremble with the need to reach out and re-discover him all over again, to trace his fingertips across those lines on his face, to feel up his arms, to—Charles reels it all in. If his children could pick this up, he would have to drive off the city and never be able to face them again.

“Yes, well,” Charles rubs the back of his neck. “I just haven’t seen him in a while. Nothing else. It happens, you know, if you had someone you haven’t seen in a while that you l—appreciated very much, you’d get it.”

“We’re not criticizing you,” David points out.

“You’re getting defensive, dad. Relax,” Xandra nudges him with her elbow on his shoulder. Charles inhales. Yes, he’s getting prickly, isn’t he?

“I’m very sorry. I suppose I’m more shaken up by this than I thought I’d be.”

David shrugs. “If it matters, he’s fucking insane. He’s under the impression you’re dating two people at once and he is very, very desperate to see you.”

Charles stops wheeling. “Were you reading his mind? You’ll have to know Erik is a very guarded person. He—”

“His shields are like child’s play to me, dad,” David says. “Most of them are. You know this. He didn’t mind, though, but I stopped snooping after I realized he didn’t mean to project anything. It was just that first impression.”

“I understand. I’m not accusing you of anything,” he says gently. But also… “He thinks I have two partners?”

David snorts, “Yeah, it’s bad. I didn’t correct him, though. You can tell him yourself,” and then he adds, “You know? You’re both so similar.”

“How so?”

“You just think of each other a lot,” Xandra says. She points at her temple. “I had to work extra hard to block everything out. He’s basically chanting your name.”

“Oh, he was chanting it in the car, alright,” David rolls his eyes. “This is a very ridiculous situation.”

Finally, they finish going through the yard and enter the house. David shrugs off his jacket, suddenly looking so much more tired than before. Charles tentatively reaches out to put his hand on his shoulder, but ultimately decides against it. He sends a little comforting wave of affection his way, and David smiles back a little.

“Tired?” he asks, even though he knows the answer.

“It was a long day,” David admits. Xandra does come up to him, putting an arm around his shoulders with a gentleness Charles doesn’t possess. “I’m not good with new people. It was so stressful.”

He reaches out again, emboldened a little by Xandra’s display of affection. He grabs David’s hand, who takes it gratefully. “You don’t need to hang out with them. It’s all right.”

“I like them,” David says truthfully. “I do. It’s—a lot of effort. That’s all. New people I have to get used to. It’s a whole thing. Sorry, I promise it’s nothing personal.”

“Aw, don’t apologize,” Xandra tells him, squeezing him a little. “Wanda and Pietro really liked you! And I bet so did Mr. Lehnsherr.”

“He thinks I’m funny,” he shares. He looks so very sleepy. 

“Do you think you can stay awake until after dinner? I still need you to eat,” Charles tells David, still holding his hand. 

David nods. “I’ll just…” He points at his temple and closes his eyes. After a second, they open again.

“Oh, hi, Nurse!” Xandra greets. “Are you letting David take a nap?”

“I am,” she says. She removes her hand from Charles. “He’s really tired, but he really had fun.”

“I’m glad to hear, Nurse,” he tells her. He’s familiar with the frequent alters that front every now and then. It warms his heart that David is recovering, and that he’s in safe hands. “What do you reckon we should do for dinner, girls?”

“I kind of want McDonald’s,” Xandra suggests.

“No,” Charles says. “I know you’re parroting Wanda and Pietro.”

“If I may,” Nurse interjects. Charles turns his attention to her. “I would appreciate it if you could make something with carbs in it. David’s wiped out, and he’s going to need energy to keep up his activities tomorrow.”

“I can’t argue against an expert,” Charles throws his hands up. “I’ll make something with rice. Xandra, you can choose what goes with the rice this time.”

“Fridge time!” Xandra cheers. “Maybe we can make them with eggs?”

“No eggs,” Nurse adds. Oh, David’s not over that prank yet. Charles chuckles to himself as the three of them head to the kitchen. Nurse dutifully helps him to cut up salmon, later, and he loses himself to the cooking.

He’s never been particularly good at it, always really used to someone else doing it for him—but he wants his children to feel loved, to look at something he made and know he was thinking of them, wanting to make it as lovely as possible for them. Charles was a lot of things, some of them bad, but at least he wanted to be a decent parent.

Erik seemed like a good father.

Oh my God, Erik.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

It’s been so long. And yet? Traitorous heart of his, racing up like it had never done before. One look they share and suddenly he’s head over heels, ready to be swept up by him again even though he should know better by now. He looks the same, and yet so different. There’s an ease to Erik that’s pulling him in like never before. He remembers how he was—so loving, such a big heart, so many big emotions: anger, joy, pain, love, all felt at once and strongly. Always at war with himself, with particularly hard edges and yet the center was so soft, so loving. Charles had been in love with all of it, but now he’s got softened edges—the hardness is never truly gone— and Charles wants to discover him all over again.

He’s so, so entrancing.

He’s memorized his number already. He should call him after dinner. No, he has to—because being treated to Erik’s voice after so long is a drug in itself.

His children—well, from what David has said, it’s clear he’s not married anymore. But who could the children belong to? Their ages… there’s a chance they could be Magda’s children, couldn’t they? He never met her, but she’s the only answer that makes sense. He relives those moments in the sixties, hushed whispers in bed of Erik talking about a fire, about a wife that ran off. Charles holds the moments close to his heart, the way the words had shaped against his collarbone, and how he had never felt that again: that utmost need to remake the world into a kinder place for a soul like Erik’s.

Charles inhales.

Nurse finally catches wind of him. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” he answers. “I’m just thinking.”

“David thinks you should talk to that man,” she tells him, probably plucking the information out of David. “He thinks this situation is a little funny.”

“Do you think he’s… I mean, is he truly okay with how things are playing out? I don’t want him to be uncomfortable through all these changes.”

“He’d tell you if he was,” Nurse promises. “Just talk to him whenever you feel something might be off. He’ll appreciate it.”

“Noted. Thank you, Nurse. You’re really good at cutting up that salmon, by the way.”

She grins. “Thank you. I’m a natural,” she laughs. Charles laughs along, too. “If David wakes up to eat, I am just going to wish you good luck with that man. David is really happy with his children. Hopefully it works out for you.”

Charles nods. That does give him reassurance. He’ll have to talk to Xandra about it, too. Perhaps during dinner.

At dinner, it turns out to be a little easier than anticipated.

“Xandra,” he begins. “If I were to, perhaps, seek out Erik to begin a relationship with him—would that bother you?”

“No,” she says.

“I don’t want you to think I didn’t love your mother, or that I would love you any less for pursuing this. I need to make that clear—oh, did you say no?”

She smiles. “I would only be sad if you did stop paying attention to us, but you just said you wouldn’t,” she points out. “If you started slacking, I’d yell at you.”

“Always keeping me on my toes,” he smiles. “All right. Good. Are you sure?”

“Yes. I promise I’d tell you, dad. Besides,” she waves dismissively at him. “I was genetically engineered, dad. And I’m from space. I can experience relationships a little differently.”

That was a very good point.

“I love you,” he reminds her. Xandra grins brightly. “Nurse, if you could be so kind as to tell David I love him, too. I’ll tell him this, as well, when he comes back. But I trust you can relay the message to him?”

“Of course, Charles. He’ll be happy to know.”

“I appreciate you, too, by the way,” he tells her. Sometimes it was as if Nurse did a better job at parenting than him. “I hope you know.”

She smiles brightly at him.

Oh, his family is so lovely.

-

Charles stares at his phone for the longest time.

It’s just pressing the numbers.

It’s barely ten. Erik would not be asleep.

Surely that intense yearning could possess him and get him to call his number? 

He basically punches the numbers in as he calls. Heart in throat, he leans back on his headboard and waits for it to be picked up.

“Hello?” the other end of the line says. Although not the best quality, it is undeniably Erik.

It’s like a weight gets lifted from his shoulders. He sinks a little lower into the mattress, and the smile that takes over his face is as natural as ever.

“Erik,” he greets. “It’s Charles. Hello again. I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“No, no,” he says. It sounds like he’s trying to sit down. “Nothing at all. I was hoping you'd call, if I'm being honest.”

Charles smiles. If this was still a phone with a cord, he'd be twirling it—he's dying to do anything with his hands. “Ah, you know me. I am always after honesty,” he says, and tries to not cringe. Was that a pick-up line? He can almost hear David inside his head— Dad, that was fucking embarrassing.

Erik laughs. Suddenly, this call was a mistake—nothing beats like the feeling of hearing it in person, of matching the sound to his joyous features. Still, it’s way better than nothing.

“Then I suppose some things never change,” he says, and he can picture his smile as he says it. After all, Charles has always been good at remembering things. “It was nice to see you today, after so long. You’ve been well, it seems.”

“Oh, likewise. You look great, Erik,” Charles answers. He imagines Wanda and Pietro again. He wants to go over all of this in person, but he’d rather prepare the ground for it already. “And your children! They seem lovely. They must be around David’s age? Time flies by.”

“They’re nineteen. Aren’t they a wonder?” he chuckles. “Your kids seem fantastic. David is amazing, and he mentioned his sister was an alien?”

“Well, about that,” he begins. How does he even reply to that? I had an affair with a space queen. We almost got married. Of course, it didn’t work out, and I had believed she couldn’t get pregnant. She couldn’t. Apparently Xandra is genetically engineered, but still very much my child. “It’s sort of a long story. My friend, there is so much I have to tell you.”

“Sounds like you’ve been busy.”

“Not in the way you think,” he promises. What was it David said? Erik’s convinced he’s got like two secret partners. “It’s just my children and I in this house, these days. They’re all I need.”

There’s a bit of a quiet moment, in which Erik seems to be processing the fact that Charles is, in fact, very much single. 

“We’re not so different, then,” he says. “It’s just the twins and I at home.”

Oh, so he’s also single. 

Charles can’t help but smile.

“What are the odds of that, hm?” Charles says. Erik laughs again. “Every time we find each other, I truly believe fate is always doing its thing for us.”

“I think it’s far beyond fate,” Erik says. “Some things are simply just meant to be.”

That, they were. It’s a little exciting, that they can go back to talking like there was no time passing between them. Every time they spent years apart, Charles or Erik would walk into each other’s lives briefly, and it’d be like unpausing a video. Simply flowing easily, like nothing else mattered.

“Perhaps so,” he agrees. “I was wondering—I didn’t have time to ask you, of course, given how many children we have between us—but would you like to go to a café with me? I just feel like everything I want to say to you works out better in person. I’m not really fond of phone calls.”

“And yet you are calling me.”

“Well, some people are worth putting aside my conflicting feelings towards phone calls,” he says. Oh my God, was that a pick-up line? This is embarrassing. “Plus, if you’ll forgive my forwardness—I do like being able to stare at you.”

“Charles, Charles. Always so forward,” he laughs, but he doesn’t complain. “I’d love coffee. Perhaps tomorrow, after I drop the twins by the center? I can drive us to wherever you have in mind.”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, then.”

“I can’t wait. Until tomorrow, then.”

Oh, he doesn’t want to hang up. It was a wonder how Erik always made him act like such a fool when it came to him. He reluctantly says his goodbyes and hangs up, once again unable to simply pull away from Erik.

He blinks at the ceiling.

How’s he meant to sleep now?

“You’re dressing up,” David points out, inquisition written all over his face. “Where are you going? You don’t have a class to teach today.”

“No, in fact, I am tagging along with you both to the center,” he says. “Erik and I agreed to meet after dropping our children off.”

Xandra claps. “You’re going on a date! That’s great.”

Was it a date? He never knew with Erik. In fact, Charles would never say they ever started dating—sometimes it’s unspoken between them. They’re always in tune, always acquitted with the other—clarifying if something is a date is something that’s beyond them. So perhaps they are, or perhaps they are truly catching up like two old friends. Again, he never knows for sure with him—with Erik, things just happen. They always feel natural. It always seems like it was meant to be.

Not voicing these thoughts, Charles simply nods. David finds it amusing, though.

“‘Dropping our children off,’ that sounds like you’re leaving us in a playground so you can talk about adult stuff,” he snorts. “We’re teenagers, not incapable of taking care of ourselves.”

“Oh, I trust you’re responsible, David. Your sister is a whole different story.”

“What did I do!”

“You remember when you pretended to blend in with the lights and then scared the hell out of Jean,” David reminds her.

“Oh, that. Yes, okay. I see.”

Charles smiles. “See? That’s why David is the responsible one.”

“My feelings, dad. They’re hurt.”

“I’m sure they’ll heal.”

David laughs again. 

It’s a nice way to kick off the day.

-

“Why are you here so early?” Jean asks as soon as he wheels in. “Is there something wrong?”

“Hello to you too, Jean. How are you? It’s a lovely day, isn’t it? I’m doing fine, thank you.”

“Oh, shush. You know what I mean,” Jean says, leaning down and hugging him. Charles pats her back. “Seriously, is everything okay? You—”

“I assure you, if there was a problem, I’d let you know. I am simply—”

“He has a date later,” David announces without preamble. “He’s going to meet him here, so he’s just killing time.”

Scott perks up at that. “A date, Professor?”

“With who?” Jean’s eyes are wide. “When were you going to tell us?”

“Maybe if you didn’t assume something was wrong, I would have explained,” Charles smiles at her. “But yes, thank you, David.”

“Anytime. It’s the dad of those new volunteers, Jean.”

“Thank you, David.”

“Oh, I’m oversharing. Got it,” David catches on, nodding. “My bad, dad.”

“It’s okay,” Charles smiles, trying to reassure him. Truly, without him, Charles would have probably avoided the topic further. David nods again, then scurries along to another room. Charles watches him go before turning back his attention to Scott and Jean. “Yes, it’s with him. I wouldn’t call it a date, per se—neither of us are the age to be dating like a little foolish thing.”

Jean squints a little. “I’m trying to remember who their father was. Erik…?”

“Erik Lehnsherr,” he supplies. The name doesn’t ring any bells for them—and how could it? The Brotherhood disbanded before they even got the chance to meet him. “He’s an old friend of mine. We used to, ah…”

“Date?” Scott cocks his head. “You used to date this guy?”

He’s a little defensive over it. He wants to say, oh, what we have is way deeper than simply ‘dates’. Meetings of souls, understanding of each other that no other relationship could even come close to. He’s my only equal in this world, and it’s been so long, and I’ve wandered for many years trying to fill the void this relationship left me when he disappeared, and could never find anything like it. It’s simply not someone I ‘used’ to date.

“Yes, you could say that,” he concedes. “Anyway, he’ll be dropping his children here, and then we’ll be off. I also simply thought to check on everyone, see how they are doing. I’m assuming Dani and her friends are back today from their little exchange?”

“We’re not a daycare for you, Charles,” Jean teases. Then she nods. “Yeah, they’re back today. Hopefully they get along with Wanda and Pietro, although I don’t see why not. Like we always say: the more hands, the better.”

“Of course. Do you mind if I cut our conversation short? I’ll just do a general sweep of the place, see how everyone is doing.”

“Please, by all means,” Scott gestures at the building. “All yours.”

Charles goes on ahead. By all means, although it costs him to admit it, he is rather more fond of this place than he was of the school. Perhaps it’s the lack of fighting. For all of Charles’ dislike of violence, the school simply seemed to brew more and more of it. There had been a fine line between teaching kids to control their mutation and training them for war, and Charles had danced one too many times over it.

This, though.

This was nice.

He likes seeing them exist unconditionally. A center had a wider scope than a school, and everyone he’s met who’s come and gone through here—Charles is thankful for them.

Certainly, it was something he always thought Erik would like, had he ever been aware of it. Isn’t it funny, how fate works?

Erik arrives later, with Wanda and Pietro bouncing excitedly. They greet Charles faster than lightning and they’re off to find David and Xandra, which leaves him and Erik alone sooner than anticipated.

“They waste no time,” Erik comments, amused. Charles looks over to David, who considerably perks up when the twins arrive to greet him. He does like them, doesn’t he? Pride and warmth swells in his chest. “I’m glad they seem to get along.”

“Thank God they do,” he replies cheerily. “It’s funny how priorities change once you become a father. Speaking of—we have ought to catch up. Are you ready?”

“Always,” he answers. “Let’s get going.”

He asks Charles for permission to help him get in the car, which is appreciated. He takes a second to marvel at how easy it is with Erik and his mutation, the way the wheelchair folds in itself without a single bit of effort. Charles is used to driving, to have control, but it’s amusing to be back at being Erik’s passenger. Like things haven’t changed at all.

“May I…?” he points at his temple. “You know, it’s far easier to give directions like that.”

“Oh, by all means,” Erik allows. Charles effortlessly downloads the information, and takes a second to appreciate Erik’s mind again. It’s comforting, like coming home. It’s his favorite mind to be in. “David did this same trick yesterday. I was utterly impressed by his control of his telepathy. You have an Omega-level mutant in your family!”

Charles grins. “Ah, yes. David is beyond powerful. I can only teach him how to control his powers, but truth be told, he is a better telepath than I’d ever hope to be. You see, it’s not just his telepathy. There are… countless personalities living inside my son, each one of them with a different power. I wish I could word it better, but frankly, I believe that gives a better idea of how powerful he is.”

“Impressive,” Erik agrees. “Such magnificent power, and such a kind child.”

“Yes. He is kind, isn’t he?” Charles allows the fondness to envelop him. “He’s an extraordinary kid. I truly love him. He and his sister, simply lovely. But that’s enough of my kids for now. Yours aren’t behind, my friend. I can tell Pietro has superspeed. What of Wanda?”

That smile graces Erik’s features—one that he recognizes by now as the ‘very proud father’ smile, one that Charles must have undoubtedly been sporting in this conversation. 

“At first, I wasn’t quite sure,” he explains. “I had to call Emma to help her figure out her powers. Hex magic, she calls it. Manipulating realities as she pleases. An Omega-level mutant of her own right, I believe.”

Such tremendous power. Then again, not that different from David’s own manipulation of reality, is it? “Then I believe she and David will get along just fine.”

“Exactly,” he smiles. “This is what I always wanted, you know. For the next generation to be better than us. So comfortable with their powers. I look at Wanda and Pietro, so comfortable with who they are, and it—among all my mistakes, I am glad to get one thing right. I’m glad it’s them.”

They’re arriving at the café soon, but Charles doesn’t want this conversation to be interrupted at any costs. It’s already one of the things he wants to talk about, and it’s the tip of the iceberg of the entire list he wants to tell Erik. 

“I hope this doesn’t sound rude, my friend. But I must say, I never took you to be one for this type of lifestyle.”

“Oh, a family man?” Erik grins ruefully. “I used to be one, as you know. Before it got taken away from me. I didn’t have… I didn’t think I had it in me, to do it again. Especially not at the time I found them. But, ah, perhaps life was on the lookout for me—they’re Magda’s, did you know? It sometimes feels like life gave me another chance with them.”

Magda’s… ah, that explained a lot. Charles puts a hand on his shoulder, knowing first-hand what her loss means to Erik. Erik gives him a look, grateful, and he parks the car for their café. 

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Charles says. It turns out he didn’t have to worry about the conversation being interrupted—Erik’s powers make everything easier. The door opens by itself, the wheelchair places itself where Charles needs it. “Oh, thank you very much. As I was saying—” smoothly, he transfers as Erik gets out of the car himself. He comes next to him, and he resumes, “You’re truly a good father. I can see your kids love you very much. Magda would be proud, if she could see you.”

Erik chuckles, touched, but still a little skeptical. “I guess that will remain a doubt forever, won’t it?” 

He opens the door of the café for them.

“There’s a little quiet place in the back,” Charles tells Erik. “We wouldn’t be interrupted like that. Or—” struck by a sudden idea, Charles lights up, “There’s a park nearby with chess tables. Surely you would enjoy a game with food?”

Erik lights up as well. “That sounds wonderful. Let’s go ahead and order.”

As they order, there’s a lighthearted tease from Erik about his order—he had chosen the sweetest things from the menú, and Erik was well-acquainted with his preference for sweets. It’s fun to be around someone who knows that about him. As he’s beginning to note, every interaction he’s had since Erik left, they’ve all known a part of Charles that he had carefully crafted—father, mentor, teacher, activist. But to Erik, he’s Charles, and there is no one else alive who could simply know him for that alone.

When they step out, they begin their little journey towards the park. 

“In my case,” he continues, trying to pick up from where they left off as they wait for the stop light. “I had David from Gabrielle, as you might have been able to piece out. He does look a lot like her, doesn’t he?”

“He’s like a perfect mix of you and her,” Erik agrees. They cross the street, and Erik cocks his head, “I don’t understand how, though. I believed—when, back then—I believed you cut things off with Gabby.”

“I did, yes. We realized we weren’t quite a match, what, with me being—how shall I say it? Fixated on other matters.”

“Other men,” Erik snorts.

“Well, it’s rather preposterous to say men,” Charles says. “Just the one.”

“I’m flattered,” he says. “So, you’re saying it was an accident?”

“I hate calling it that, but if we need to get technical, then yes,” he admits. It’s so disrespectful to call one of the most important people of his life a result of an accident. David is so much more than that. “But he means the world to me. It’s not something I regret.”

“He’s lovely,” Erik says again, echoing his sentiments from earlier. “I can’t quite place who the alien child is meant to be from, though. Is it someone I know?”

There’s no normal way to put it. He could spare the background of the X-Men and their involvement in Shi’ar matters to Erik, perhaps one day open up about the entire insane story. As they arrive at the park, they instinctively go to the table closest to a tree, shielded by the shade and comfortable to be under. Erik places their orders next to the board, and gently urges him to go on.

“To spare you the frankly insane details,” he continues, “let’s say we had a brief stint in space. Are you familiar with the Shi’ar?”

Erik nods. “Storm handles them most of the time, but I know of them, yes. Wonderful technology, isn’t it?”

“Oh, Erik, the technology is unbelievable. For lack of a better word, otherworldly. And to think I was so close to it! Which leads me to my next point—I became involved with Majestrix Lilandra.”

Erik’s eyebrows shoot up so high, they could have run away from his face. “Charles.”

“I don’t know what to say, my friend. I’m simply charming like that,” he smiles, and Erik laughs before sipping his drink. It’s up to Charles to start the game, so he moves his pawn and continues. “It—as you can see, it didn’t go anywhere. I loved her, I did. The circumstances weren’t meant to be for us. We weren’t the right people, perhaps. And besides… I was—how should I say it?”

Erik doesn’t press.

“Preoccupied by thoughts of other men, perhaps.”

That makes him laugh. “I thought it was just the one.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to inflate his ego too much, two conversations in a row.”

“Oh, not at all. I could hear it fifty times over and I’d be fine,” Erik grins with such a boyish expression. It’s so very charming. Sometimes it’s like he has Charles on the palm of his hand. “Was it really that, though?”

“Of course. I did love her, just—” Charles omits like not the way I love you. “I didn’t love her less than you. Nor did I love her more than you. A different kind altogether, but I suppose it—it simply wasn’t the way I wanted to love. The way I wanted to be loved.”

Erik analyzes his board, doubting his next move. He settles on moving his knight, which, damn him, ends up being a rather good play. At his silence, Charles presses on, “Either way, it didn’t matter. Xandra is our biological child by all means, but emphasis on the biological—genetically engineered, hatched from an egg and everything.”

“Impressive,” Erik says. “A telepath, too, if I recall correctly.”

“Yes. She’s so much more like her mother, though. At some point, I would have to send her back to space for her to take her rightful throne. But I try to not think of it. I try to focus on the present now, and what I can give my children now—I have sort of given up dreaming about the future.”

“This, I did not expect,” he sits up straighter. “I have never pictured Charles Xavier without his ideals.”

Charles smiles. He unwraps his food—just a small muffin. He takes out the little wooden knife that comes with it and slices it. “I suppose life has honed me into a realist.”

Erik takes a look at him as he eats. The urge to read his mind is strong. Being under Erik’s scrutiny has always evoked that in him, and no matter how much time passes, he has to fight that primal urge to reach out with his powers and see what he sees. Perhaps, with time given, he’d have unlimited access. For now, he waits for Erik to finish whatever he’s evaluating.

“It’s strange,” Erik finally says, crossing one leg over the other. He never breaks eye contact with him. As much as the scrutiny is intense, Charles has always loved being the center of his attention. “To picture you without your ideals always led me to think you’d look… broken, for lack of better terms. Devoid of hope. And yet, I find it suits you. You don't look hopeless, no. Neither do you look broken. If anything, you look confident. Isn’t that odd?”

“I agree,” Charles says. It’s his turn to do a move. “Actually, you might be right. It started when I found out about David. His arrival to my life was serendipitous, but it also put everything under a different perspective. He was just a child, Erik. Every time he laughed, I felt as though an angel was born. How could I take him and tell him I needed to train him to defend a world that would hate him? What kind of father would I be, to put my child through a simulation in the Danger Room, just so he’d experience what it was like to fear for their life? Even worse, to eventually send him out there, when he could be growing up healthy and happily? I couldn’t. 

“And to my horror, I had done the same to my other children—created an army of child soldiers. They didn’t know any better. It broke me, for a while. I dissolved the school, but kept the students who had nowhere to go. Kept trying to be better. Tried to—I don’t know. Tried to give them normalcy, as much as I could.”

Erik nods. “Did you realize there was no normalcy to be found?”

“Not unless I pulled strings,” Charles sighs. “And did I pull strings? I’m not proud of it, but yes. There must be countless humans walking around with a psychic block I placed for my students to be able to exist. Humans whose memories I messed with. Humans who I had to forcibly change their mind just for my students’ survival. God, Erik. There must be so many people walking around this very street with opinions about mutants they don’t remember forming—all courtesy of me.”

But as he speaks it, there’s dread—called back from those times, the genuine stress, the panic that had taken over him. But there’s no… Charles stops.

He’s not regretful.

Huh.

Erik licks his lips, deep in thought. Charles doesn’t know if he wants his approval or not. “I never thought you had it in you.”

“Neither did I, my friend. I guess that old image of me fit what you had in mind when picturing me, didn’t it?”

“It’s about what I expected to see when you said you became a realist,” he smiles a little. “Did you know? I never meant for you to end up like that.”

That’s.. a surprise. He remembers those arguments with Erik, about how Charles’ ideology would never work out. The insistence that it was foolish, and then the arguments that hurt him more—the hushed ones whispered against his skin, begging him to leave behind this hope that could only ruin him. Truly, he had expected Erik to… he’s not sure. Celebrate, perhaps. For them to bond over their newfound similar ideas that humanity simply didn’t offer the same energy that Charles gave to them.

“How so?”

“I never wanted humans to break your heart, Charles. I wish they could have realized how lucky they were, to be given such love. I knew it would never work out. But I—I suppose… if there was one person in this world who believed in the good, who hadn’t seen the horrors I did, then perhaps life would work out your way. Since life so often doesn’t agree with me, I thought perhaps it’d listen to you. You’re a person hard to ignore.”

For one, long moment, all the air leaves his lungs. He’s always thought—and in a way, he knows—these ideologies would forever be the rift between him and Erik. That one bridge they could simply not cross. He had thought Erik to resent him for it, not… hope it’d work out.

Even worse, because he never expected Erik’s to work out. He’s known him to be right, but he’s never wanted him to be.

Oh, it seems they were not differing in opinions as much as he thought.

“Thank you. It actually means a lot to hear that from you,” he says honestly. “I have to ask, though—I have been talking about myself so much. But you—you didn’t last as Magneto long, did you?”

Another smile, albeit a humorlessly one, takes over Erik’s features. “No, I did not. I was amazed when you were talking—I so wish I hadn’t cut our connection. Perhaps we would have helped each other. Perhaps we would have destroyed each other, when we were at that low point. Either way, I was going through the same thing.”

“I’m shocked, but knowing you stopped leading the Brotherhood—I suppose I saw this revelation coming.”

“It also came in the form of my children,” Erik says. After his next move, he leans back and stares at the board—but his gaze is clearly not focused on it. “I didn’t know they were my children at first, is the thing. And once I found out, I just—I couldn’t. I couldn’t let them believe this was all there was to the world. I couldn’t let them grow up in a reign of terror. Not—not like me.” He pauses. There’s a storm written on his face. “I wanted them to be alive and for that to mean something. Not just violence. Not just terror. I could never—I could never truly leave the cause, you know. Much like you. I kept working, just on the down low. Coming home to my children after I brought down an entire facility a few minutes earlier. Enrolling them in school with Emma tinkering telepathically with their documents. It was killing me, Charles. Allied myself with the Hellfire Club to keep everything up, to still access networks of mutants and help, but be there for my family, too. I felt so caged in this crossroad inside myself: this overwhelming need to let them live unapologetically using their gifts, and listen to what they wanted, how they wanted their youth to be spent.

“They’re happier now, out of school and doing this with the center. Trying to find their footing. I can't protect them forever. And they know, they're smart children—they know the cause. But at this point, I believe all of us at home know this one truth: we have to look after each other. I don't have it in me to antagonize all of humanity. I just want to keep my own safe. No more senseless wars. Just… peace, if it's ever possible to acquire it. I look at my children smiling, and I know I will do whatever it takes to continue that. It just means that perhaps, sometimes, whatever it takes doesn't end in bloodshed.” Erik pauses a bit. “Of course, like I said, I still get my hands dirty here and there. If Storm asks you to do something, you do it. And I love mutantkind, same way as you do. Same way you continue to be here, even though all your students could take over. I suppose I just… have a different set of priorities, nowadays.”

“It sounds as though you became a bit of an idealist yourself,” Charles smiles at him. His chest is heavy with something warm he can't quite name yet. “I agree with you. I so wish you had reached out—I would have helped out with your children. I would have helped with schooling. We—we wouldn't have had to do it all by ourselves.” 

Erik smiles at him a little. It's fond. “Could've, would've, should've. I am glad we are here today, by all means.”

“As am I,” Charles says. “Erik, I…” 

It's too soon to hit him with the 'I am always going to be in love with you' spiel. Charles changes the approach. 

“Erik, I have always believed we were better together,” he says instead. It still is a heavy admission, by all means, but less intense. “I can't begin to even explain what this means to me, to… to talk about these things, to have someone who understands. And of course, I am glad that someone is you.” He has no right to ask him to stay, to come off like this so fast. “I hope this time you can stick around. I hope this—this isn't a single hang out.”

Erik looks shocked. He waits for a second before nodding, letting another smile spread. 

“Oh, Charles. As if I could ever only see you once,” he responds with such warmth. “I will be here until you grow sick of me.”

Erik, Erik, Erik. Charles could never grow sick of him. 

He hasn't been this content in a while. 

Now, do not misinterpret it—as much as he can, he has been pretty content. But this, driving back to the center with Charles next to him… Erik had forgotten joy could also feel like this. Joy could also come in this form: Charles, on the passenger seat, singing along to a song on the radio. For the first time in forever, Erik is content. 

Of course, before he gets too caught up in it,, the insecurity crawls back up on him like a spider. Could this last? He has gotten so used to the lack of Charles, and if not the lack of him, then the fragments and pieces he could pick up through the years. Could he actually go through with this? 

Charles notices him thinking, as always. “Penny for your thoughts?” 

No matter how much time passes, he’s amused when Charles asks it like that. “Nothing. I suppose it's a bit depressing, is all. I was wondering if this could really be it. If, after all this time, I didn't need to give you up in order to be happy.”

“If you ask me,” Charles begins slowly, “I will be here, as long as you want me.”

“I know. But does life agree with that?” 

“We'll make it agree,” Charles says with conviction. 

Such an empowering thing, having Charles by his side rather than opposite him. When he spares a glance at him, he quickly focuses back on the road. 

After all, he has never been particularly good at fighting back the desperate need to pull over and kiss him. 

Their children are already sitting outside, almost like little ducklings all in a row. Charles laughs when Erik voices this, but ultimately agrees with the comparison. 

“Charles,” he says again, grabbing him by his arm. Charles stops entirely. “I want to see you again. When could we… meet up?” 

I want to see you every day, he doesn't voice. It's not like he's a teenager in love. 

“I suppose I am often around other centers,” Charles answers. He looks deep in thought. “I teach Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, but afternoon shifts—so mornings and nights should be free. The rest of the days I monitor other businesses—again, mostly centers. If you don't mind tagging along to those…? Oh, I am being inconsiderate. When are you free?” 

“I’m booked Monday to Friday, all morning. I could make excuses, I suppose, but—” Erik remembers last time he lied to Emma. “You don’t want to make an enemy out of Emma Frost. She’s one of the few friends I have, you know. I’d rather not.”

Charles laughs. “I’ve heard of her. Quite a character, it seems.”

“You’ve no idea,” he says. He should introduce them. It’d be the best idea ever or the worst. “I suppose night dates are what we are going to be doing.”

Someone less familiar with Charles would have probably not noticed the brief hope flashing in his eyes. Fortunately for him, he’s familiar with Charles as if he’s his own mirror.

“Is that what we are doing?” a small smile slips in. “Dating?”

“Such a juvenile term, isn’t it?” Erik says. “But sure. Back in the sixties, I think we didn’t really do the whole ‘dating’ scheme. I love what we had. I would love for it to still be there. However, I see nothing wrong with doing it… ‘the proper way’, so to speak. I suppose this is me asking for a date.”

“Will wonders ever cease?” Charles asks. “You’ve become quite a gentleman.”

Unexpectedly and making Erik thankful that his windows on his car are polarized, Charles leans in and kisses his cheek.

“My answer is yes,” he says, pulling back, opening the car door. “As if it ever could be anything else. Now come, let’s go meet our children.”

Erik’s pretty sure his mind stays there, frozen, even as he goes through the motions of taking the wheelchair out and opening it up for Charles. He comes out of his car, still dazed, but luckily Wanda and Pietro beaming at him is enough to shake it off. By their side, Charles reunites with his own children. 

“You will not believe everyone we met today,” Pietro begins as he breaks off his hug and lets Wanda have it. “There are people our age!” 

“Besides me,” David pipes from his place with his dad. 

“Besides David! They're all David's friends and they are so cool!” Wanda exclaims. “Dad, I think you'd like Illyana, she has the same dry sense of humor as you.”

Erik laughs. “She sounds like a promising kid.”

“You have to meet everyone,” Pietro says with excitement. He is practically vibrating. Is this the first time they meet someone their age with gifts? Erik places a guess on most likely. Oh, the importance of being with your own… “We need to have a sleepover sometime!” 

“Aren't you too old for sleepovers?” Erik ruffles his hair. Wanda, in turn, looks offended. 

“We're nineteen. Not dinosaurs,” she huffs. “Fine. We'll have our grown-up parties.”

Wanda and Pietro? Drunk? That could only end in disaster. “Upon further reconsideration, we may be able to arrange a sleepover.”

“That's the attitude,” Wanda says approvingly. She turns to Charles now. “Did you guys have fun, away from your children?” 

“Right!” Pietro points at them. “This was some elaborate ploy to get rid of us, because you hate us. Isn't that right, David?” 

“I think—” David begins. 

“Say yes.”

“Yes,” he dutifully says. 

Erik laughs. “David, Pietro is a terrible influence. You don’t want to pay attention to what he says.”

“He’s okay,” he says genuinely. It makes Erik laugh again. Kid’s always so honest. “He’s like Xandra but way more annoying.”

“You don’t think I’m that annoying?” Xandra asks, both heartbroken and flattered.

“I can be even more annoying,” Pietro says. “That’s a promise.”

“I honestly look forward to it,” David smiles at him. Pietro jerks his thumb at him in a ‘can you believe this guy?’ expression.

“But speaking of sleepovers,” Charles cuts in, “I really would not mind if all of you visit us, Erik. We could have an entire day together during the weekend, if you wanted.”

Erik nods, trying to not be too enthusiastic about it. Charles’ lips still tingle on his cheek, and if he’s really truly honest with himself, he wants to follow him home right now and finish what was started in the car.

Even if all that started was a cheek kiss.

It’s been a while, alright.

“Then there's nothing left for us to do but to arrange it,” he states, putting his hands on his twins' shoulders. “But for now, we really must be going. Charles, I trust you'll call when you're free?” 

“I give you my word that I will,” he smiles warmly. “See you next time, Erik.”

“Bye guys,” David waves at them. Xandra echoes a “Bye guys!” louder than him, also waving.

Once they get in the car, it’s only a matter of time before the twins break and immediately start hounding—

“How was your date, father?” Wanda asks. The emphasis on the word date is so heavy it makes him laugh again.

“Am I being interrogated?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on how you answer these questions,” Pietro says in his most serious voice. “You and Charles were away for quite a while. Doing what?”

“Talking,” Erik answers. “We played chess. Talked more. Kept playing. Talked more.”

“Just played chess? How entertaining can that be?” Wanda asks. 

“If you played against Charles Xavier, you'd know the answer to that,” he says, smiling. “Children, children. Since when do you police my life?” 

“Well, you know, you haven't exactly…” Pietro winces, “dated… anyone… in forever. So we just want to make sure that's what's happening. We're old enough to know these things, dad, in case you forgot.” 

He views them from the mirror again. It's true. Somewhere along the line, Wanda and Pietro stopped being children. Somewhere along the line, they had grown up—as well and as healthy as they could be. By respecting their choices, Erik had given them the life they asked for, but now he can see the way being surrounded with other mutants makes them so much happier. And, especially, with members of Charles' family. For nineteen years, Erik has given them everything he could, and he will continue to do so—but perhaps it is okay to admit these things, too. 

“In that case,” Erik begins, sobering up a little. His fingers drum against the wheel, somewhat nervous about the obvious admission. “I want to give this relationship with Charles another chance.”

There’s a joint quiet but surprised gasps from Wanda and Pietro. Before they jump ahead to more questions, Erik clarifies: “I know I said we were friends. But we were more than that. We never stopped, I think—never formally, at least. Our differences made us fall out, but I still managed to see him from time to time again, until you both showed up. I focused everything on you, until now.”

“And he just… let you do it?”

Erik grins ruefully. “Charles would never just let something be. I purposely remained low. He wouldn’t find me unless I wanted him to. And, I realize now—he had been under similar circumstances as mine, so really, we understand each other enough to let go of it now.”

“That’s nice,” Wanda says. “You seem really happy after talking to him.”

“Oh, do I?”

“Yeah. He better be as nice as he seems, or else,” Pietro threatens.

“Or else what, son?”

“I haven’t figured out a big enough threat yet. I’ll come back to this.”

Erik laughs. He tries to continue his original thought, though: “Would you both mind if I gave this relationship a chance? Would it be something that bothers you?”

“Not at all,” Wanda claps a little. “You should do whatever makes you happy. Plus, we like Charles.”

Erik squints. “You haven’t even talked to him for longer than a minute.”

“We like his children,” Pietro says. “They’re cool. So he must be cool if he raised such good kids. Right?”

“Your logic is as sound as ever, Pietro,” Erik says. “But yes. You may be right.” 

Although, he would never describe Charles as cool. 

“Thank you both,” Erik continues. “I suppose there's no reason for me to not continue where I left off with Charles.”

“It's so lovely, dad. Love is so beautiful, and it can happen at all ages,” she begins sweetly, which is already suspicious. “It is something that should be celebrated. With, maybe, McDonald's.” 

“Oh,” So that's what's happening. “You children are shameless. We are eating at home.”

“It was worth the try,” Pietro says. “Still, our point remains. You should be happy, dad.”

Erik inhales. He lets the words and the love the twins hold over him wash him away, and he smiles fondly. “Thank you. I will be.”

He does stop by McDonald's. Damn them, they are very good at manipulating him. 

-

“You are free to go in ten minutes,” Emma tells him, even though Erik has not made any signs that he's going to leave. In fact, he has an hour to go, at least. “You've done enough for today.”

“I have not,” Erik answers back. “You made me a member of this board. The least I could do is—” 

“Erik, we all know I appreciate it more when you're actively helping me with tracking down mutants and rescuing them. You don't need to be in every board meeting ever.”

“I like them, though. It's fun seeing you step on people with your words.”

“Darling, those praises of yours always are so very welcomed,” Emma smiles at him. She taps her desk repeatedly, anxious over something Erik couldn't begin to know. “I suspect you might want to redirect those to someone else in a few minutes, though.”

“Why? Are you going to have a meeting?” Erik frowns. There's nothing on the calendar, he knows. He is always aware of everything. “Is there something you're not telling me, Emma?” 

“My God, Erik. I thought I was uptight. Relax, will you? My point is, you're free for the day and I don't need you doing anything more for me.” And then looking at the door: “Please come in.”

Erik turns, intrigued. Who could it be that is making Emma kick him out already? He unlocks the door, his impulse winning over him briefly, only for the door to show Charles. 

He's grinning before he's even aware of it. 

“Oh, hello,” Charles greets them, his eyes going from Emma to locking onto Erik's. “I was just passing by, having a lovely conversation with Emma.”

“Is this why I'm suddenly free?” Erik asks her. “You're pulling me out of my schedule for Charles?” 

“Have you ever been in the same room as the both of you? Trust me, I'm doing myself a favor,” she says. She waves at Charles, though. “Hello, Charles. Please take him away. All he does is think about you.”

“You told me you don't read my mind,” Erik protests weakly. 

“And I don't. You had the chance to deny it, yet, here we are,” Emma grins at him. Erik rolls his eyes. “Still, I don't need telepathy for that one. It’s written all over your face.”

“He’s quite easy to read, isn’t he?” Charles smiles widely, fully conspiring with Emma. “He loves thinking it’s the opposite, but really, he’s an open book.”

“Did you ever see him with the helmet?” Emma wonders, turning to him on her chair as if Erik isn’t there. “He really thought he was making a statement. Or that he hid anything with it. Sure, it kept me out, but you could always read his constipated faces either way.”

Erik looks between them. “I should have not introduced you two.”

“Why, keeping your sweethearts close to your chest?” Emma asks him, leaning into her desk. Erik needs to run out of here. “Anyhow, you were right: I am releasing you for this date. Charles and I were talking while you and I were discussing everything else. And really, he’s a charmer. A really annoying charmer.”

“I’m flattered you consider me charming,” Charles says.

“And annoying,” she reminds him. “Be on your way now, will you? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Emma,” Erik says begrudgingly. But really, he is thankful. They only have a few hours until Charles has to leave for his afternoon classes, and he was missing him. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeats.

He gets up, turning around with Charles, while he still smiles at Emma—possibly still talking to her. Erik’s entitled to Charles’ time now, so he places a hand on his shoulder when they exit her office —that brings his attention back to him.

Erik wants to lean down and kiss him. They haven’t, for some reason, crossed that bridge yet. And he knows he said he would love to do it the proper way now, but he almost missed the urgency of their early relationship: the unrelenting passion and the frenzy of emotions. Yet, he loves the slow build. Like the reward at the end will be worth it.

He knows Charles wants him to do it, too.

He squeezes Charles’ shoulder instead. “Back to me already?”

“Yes, yes. My apologies—Emma is deeply entertaining, as you might know. I can’t ever read her mind, but the way she controls her telepathy is quite wonderful. I can’t imagine what her actual mind is like.”

They begin moving towards the elevator. There’s a little excitement that tints Charles’ voice when he talks about reading minds, yet, he doesn’t go near Erik’s. Back then, it was such an easy thing to always have Charles around, and if not him physically, then the gentle brush of his mind, knowing he was always just a thought away.

“I imagine it might be cold,” Erik chuckles. “Or , who knows? Perhaps it’s warm and fluffy and entirely unlike what she presents.”

Charles laughs, “There’s a high chance that’s true, my friend! People’s mindscapes are never what one expects. Even when you believe something about someone, their minds are often something else entirely.”

Might as well breach the subject now. He enters the elevator with Charles, and as he presses the button, he asks: “And what was mine like? Did it meet your expectations?”

Charles looks surprised at that. He stares down at the floor, seemingly lost in thought. Probably lost in his own memories. 

“You were my favorite mind to be in,” he says. The elevator quietly goes down. “How could I put it? It was very safely guarded. I could never read your mind easily, not even surface thoughts. I could only do it after you allowed me to, after we established a connection. Ah, I suppose—if you could imagine a metal castle, hard and cold on the outside, but once you step in—everything feels like home. Warm, inviting, everything is in the right place.”

The elevator dings. As Charles wheels out with him, Erik remains fixed on everything Charles had said. Everything feels like home. Everything is in the right place.

“That’s lovely,” Erik says back. “Thank you. I wish I could read yours.”

“I do often wonder what it looks like to others,” Charles comments, a little amused. “I think mine might be a little messy. I only look like a tidy person, you know.”

Oh, Erik knows. He remembers sharing a space with Charles. He drove Erik insane, and not just in a pleasurable way—sometimes he just didn’t clean after himself. Still, not the point right now.

“Would you like to update your opinion of my mind?” Erik says, and immediately cringes. He can almost hear Wanda’s voice: Dad, that was embarrassing. “I miss you up here.”

“Erik,” he sounds almost breathless. “Really?”

“Charles,” he says, and oh, this is probably not something he wants one of Emma’s employees to overhear and report back to her. He focuses, projecting: Come in. It’s all I can think of.

Probably not something they should be doing while stepping out of the building, but in the parking lot Erik experiences what must be falling in love all over again. Charles takes his hand as he comes in, all that warmth flooding into his mind once more. Oh, hello.

Charles, he repeats, smiling down at him. It’s good to have you. What do you think?

A bit of a rhetorical question, isn't it? He knows what Charles thinks. Erik's going to drown in all the love he's receiving. 

“So wonderful,” Charles mutters out loud. “It's so much brighter than before. Oh, Erik. You really love your children, don't you?” 

It takes him by surprise. Had his mind changed so much after getting Wanda and Pietro? He’s never seen the insides of it, but Charles looks awed, and the hold on his hand tightens ever so slightly. He looks close to tears, even, leaving Erik unsure as to what to do. Should he comfort him? Should he say something? Should he—

“Sorry, sorry, you don’t have to panic,” he says, wiping his tears away. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” Erik says, but his concern is still hard to hide. “Is everything alright?”

There’s a wave of fondness coming from Charles that he doesn’t know how to interpret. It’s been a while since they’ve connected telepathically; in a way, it’s like learning each other all over again. He has to iron out the kinks, he has to remember what each telepathic caress and spike meant, and it’s so thrilling. At this moment, though, it’s confusing: he’s tearing up but he’s fond. Contradictory.

“Nothing is wrong, please relax,” he urges Erik, calming down. “It’s just been so long since I’ve been in your mind, and you think of your children so fondly. There’s so much love inside you, and it—it’s always been there, I know that. I’ve known all along. But it used to be so buried, and now it’s so free—I am just really happy you have Wanda and Pietro.”

It’s true, isn’t it? Wanda and Pietro brought up a side of Erik he didn’t know existed, a capability of love that seemed so unattainable and separated from him that he had to work for it to come, for it to be so easy. But luckily, he had good children. How could he not love them?

“Thank you,” he tells Charles, softly, still holding his hand. “I really like having you in here, Charles. Feel free to come in, whenever you want.”

Charles looks up at him with an awe he hasn’t seen in so long. He doesn’t know how to hold all of it together, as if it’d slip away from him if he spread his hands too far. Charles tugs at his hand, somewhat urging him to start walking. “Get inside my car. I need to show you something.”

It’s a little out of nowhere, but Erik nods anyway. He gets in the passenger seat, waiting for Charles to make himself comfortable. When he does, he turns around and stares at him. “Erik,” he says. “I need to kiss you.”

Erik’s eyes are comically wide. He nods, leaning in before he’s even aware he’s doing it, simply instinct calling to him. Charles’ hands are slightly different and familiar all at the same time, cradling his face with that same gentleness he used to bestow upon Erik. Their lips meet and everything stops. 

Oh, Charles. It’s everything he’s been yearning for again. A sigh escapes Erik as Charles kisses him more intensely, as if trying to conjure up everything he hasn’t said for so long. It’s hard to hold everything in, not when the kiss is deepened, opening up every single thing Erik had put behind him: that unrelenting love he has for Charles, that want that could be so all-consuming if he let himself indulge in it. Charles breaks the kiss, but not for long, leaning in for another one like he couldn’t get enough of Erik.

In Erik’s experience, it’s never enough.

Charles doesn’t let go of him. He rests his forehead against Erik’s, his hands in the same place as before, breathing in. Erik can’t stop looking at him, even when Charles remains with his eyes closed. There’s so much warmth between them as if it’s about to overflow.

“Oh, I missed that,” Charles says quietly.

Erik chuckles, fully convinced his fondness could choke him. “I missed it as well.”

He leans in again, remembering why he wanted to take it slow. It’s never just one time with Charles. But he can’t help it, can he? His mouth under Erik’s is just as addicting as it was back then, if not even more. Charles’ hands go to his head, as if slowly reminding himself of the things Erik enjoyed when they were together. It does, in fact, still affect him when Charles’ fingertips are buried in his hair, always tinged with some sort of desperation to be as close to Erik as possible.

Then, of course, he realizes they’re still in the middle of a parking lot.

With difficulty, he pulls away from Charles, trying to regain his breathing. “We,” he tries, “we are not doing this in a parking lot.”

“Of course not,” Charles says, flushed, but he can still get his general feelings inside his mind. He would not mind doing this in a parking lot. “We are dignified gentlemen. Oh, don’t look at me like that.”

Erik arches his eyebrow even further. 

“But we have to continue,” he all but begs, and Charles nods. Erik’s starting to see the appeal about the parking lot, which means he needs to steer away from that train of thought. “I—perhaps later tonight? I still want to take you out for lunch today, since we’re already here.”

Charles is so very clearly thinking they could be doing other things than having lunch together, but true to his word, he does try to be a dignified gentleman. “Right, right. We can have lunch together. Of course. I love food.”

Erik laughs. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fantastic,” Charles is gripping his controls a little too tightly. “Absolutely wonderful. I love you, did you know? You’re fantastic.”

Erik laughs harder. “Charles, please, it’s midday.”

“I am not complaining,” he turns on the engine. Erik is so amused. He’s probably never loved him this much. “Lunch, lovely time to have it.”

Erik’s amused even as they drive away and actually grab lunch.

Over lunch, Erik finds himself awed at how easily Charles fit in his life. He’s not sure when, exactly, did it become an actual thing to grab lunch together again and to catch each other up to speed on everything, even tiny parts of their day. Even more so when Charles asks:

“Could I possibly ask you to pick up David and Xandra?” Charles rubs his temple. “I wasn’t counting on Emma letting you off the hook, so I don’t think I can pick them up and also make it to my own class.”

“No problem,” he says. And then, because he’s familiar with them: “Will they mind?”

“Oh, I—I don’t think so, no. David likes you, and so does Xandra. It should be fine. But do let me know if it isn’t. ”

“I will,” he promises. Wanda and Pietro don’t expect him home until much later, so perhaps he could even surprise them with their little friends. “Mind giving me the directions here?” he points at his head.

“Thank you, thank you,” he says profusely, squeezing Erik’s hand over the table. “I owe you everything.”

“Easy there, Charles. No promises you can’t keep,” he smiles back, standing up. “I’ll see you later tonight, then. Have a nice class.”

He leans down and kisses him, sweetly, both as an afterthought and as the only instinct driving him. It’s so normal to do this. It’s so easy to be like this. He wants to be terrified of it, but why? Why, when this is what he’s wanted for so long? 

He’s been so used to a certain lifestyle, to safeguard everything, to make sure nothing is slipping by him. It’s hard to come to terms that this is permanent if they want it to be, that there’s not a catastrophe waiting for him at the corner.

Charles breaks the kiss, holding his face and smiling. “Thank you.”

They’re not even saying goodbye, is the thing. Charles still has to drop Erik back at Emma’s. They’re simply doing this because they can. 

-

“Oh, Mr. Lehnsherr,” David says as soon as he lowers his window. “I thought Dad was coming to pick us up.”

“Hi, Mr. Lehnsherr!” Xandra greets him, grinning. “It’s nice to see you!”

“Likewise,” he opens the door to them and they waste no time getting in. “I'm sorry it's me and not your father. He miscalculated his timing and he ended up sending me.”

“Aw, you don’t have to be sorry,” Xandra says, getting in the car and letting David come after her. “You’re always welcomed with us.”

“You are,” David agrees. “I didn’t know you and dad were in—in ‘picking up your children for you’ terms.”

Erik laughs. It’s a unique way to describe their relationship, it’s true—but it also puts it on a different perspective. To be so easily tangled up on someone else’s family, to be part of it, without even asking the children if they mind. He checks his watch. They have a while of a ride before they arrive at Charles’ place.

“It’s a fairly new development,” he says. He checks them briefly for any reactions that might show they are secretly displeased with Erik being here. “Is that okay with you both? I am asking very genuinely. Don’t hold back.”

Xandra leans back against the seat, fiddling with the seatbelt. From what Erik glimpses, she’s thinking about it very hard, and David is in the same conditions. Eventually, she nods. 

“I think… I have to go back to space eventually, you know,” she folds her hands on her lap. “I know this. So does my father. And so, at first I thought I would just—not get attached to anything on Earth, right? I'd be gone anyhow. I’d just spend my days with my father and my brother, simply waiting for the day to come—or I’d run away from home. And then they showed me so much love. I didn’t want that to change, or anything between us to change. Until suddenly you came along.”

Erik tightens his grip on the wheel. He’s not sure where this is going. Of course, he shouldn’t expect Charles' children to also like him. He’s not intending to be a step-father, he’s not intending to take anyone’s place, and he’s certainly not trying to disrupt a family. He’s always used to having an unconventional relationship with Charles, and family is so very important. He’d have to tell Charles about this.

And then Xandra adds, “You’re a nice change, Mr. Lehnsherr. That’s what I think.”

Oh.

Erik nods, not sure how much gratefulness he’s meant to express that isn’t off-putting, or how much he’s allowed to love someone else’s kids. “I truly appreciate that, Xandra. I hope you don’t leave so soon.”

“I hope so too,” Xandra smiles. “What do you think, David?”

“You want to know what I think?” he says, laughing a little. “I think, when I told ma that dad was seeing a man called Erik Lehnsherr, she said, Oh, again? which was a little funnier in person than re-telling it. She had a ‘I can’t believe your father’ look on her face. She gets that quite often, y’know.”

“She’s always been funnier than us,” Erik says.

“I know. But she also said, Your father’s always been really happy around him. It doesn’t surprise me. And, fuck, I guess that’s true. He’s really happy around you. So I don’t have a lot of complaints.”

“You can accept I make your father happy, and still dislike me,” Erik tells him seriously. “You don’t need to put up with me for your father’s sake. It’s not something neither he or I would want.”

“Oh, fuck, that sounded bad. Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I do like you, Mr. Lehnsherr, and I like your children as well. I am just saying it’s a good thing you also make my father happy,” he hurries to explain. “I’m not—good with new people? But I’m good with you guys. If that matters at all.”

“It matters plenty, David. Never underestimate it,” he answers, smiling. It’s like another weight being lifted off, like so many puzzle pieces suddenly fitting in that he wasn’t aware were missing from the full picture. “Thank you both. I wish I could—I wish I could say something better than that.”

“Nah, we get it,” David waves him off. “None of us are very good with words around here.”

“But we try!” Xandra cheers.

It makes Erik laugh all over again.

When Erik kisses him as a greeting, Charles smiles against his lips. I could get used to these greetings again.

You should, Erik promises. “How was your class?”

“Oh, fascinating. The thing about teaching college-aged students is that it is absolutely unbelievable how often these people simply want to sleep,” Charles grins, his good mood infectious—even when Erik isn’t in a particularly bad mood. “People fantasize about having dinner in the middle of my class, or about taking a nap, or the way they miss bed. Is our youth being overworked?”

“Most definitely,” Erik says. “I am baffled that you haven’t taken personal offense at them getting distracted. We all know how you feel when you’re not the center of the room.”

“I’ll have you know I matured plenty,” Charles huffs, mock-offended. “I don’t need to be the center of attention everywhere I go.”

Erik arches an eyebrow.

“All right, perhaps I enjoy it, but certainly I do not make a fuss if students aren’t focused on a two-hour biology lecture. Besides, I’m the center of your attention, aren’t I?”

“That’s fairly debatable.”

“Do name something else you’re more interested in than myself, right now.”

Erik straightens up, gesturing at the sky above them. “There is a quite beautiful starry night right now, in case you thought of yourself as more important than the stars—”

“Oh my God. Shut up and kiss me again.”

Who’s Erik to deny him that request? He leans down and kisses him again.

“Hello,” Charles finally says. “How was your ride with David and Xandra?”

“Oh, enlightening,” he grins. “You have wonderful children, did you know?”

He smiles like only a proud father can. “I’m glad. I knew they liked you plenty, but I’m glad you get to see it for yourself.”

“Frankly, I thought I hadn’t done much to earn their appreciation,” Erik mutters, taking a seat next to him. The lovely thing about visiting Charles’ house is that the view from his house is quite beautiful. After all, what’s the point of a mansion if not to dramatically look out of a balcony? The children are hanging out by themselves in some other room. Erik hasn’t checked. “So it took me a bit by surprise. I feel like I just found you again, but it’s been a little while already, hasn’t it?”

“Life passes by in such a funny way like that,” he says, taking his hand. There’s a burst of energy and fondness each time Charles does this, never satisfied with his closeness to Erik. “If you must know, I got shovel-talked by Wanda and Pietro today.”

“What?” Erik whips his head around, full attention on Charles. “What did they do?”

“Darling, relax. I found them amusing. Although, if I truly think about it, I believe they could actually follow through their threats,” Charles says, all smiles and not an ounce of ill-sentiment in him. Erik is still baffled his twins could pull that off, though. “Honestly, all they did was tell me they appreciate me, but if I misbehaved I would be dealt with accordingly. Ah, accordingly in a way that didn’t hurt my children, as they are considerate like that. Pietro even promised to annoy me to hell. Somehow, I found that more terrifying than the possibility of him manipulating my atoms, or Wanda re-writing reality.”

Erik would apologize for that, but as it is, there’s really nothing to apologize for. In fact, he’s pretty touched—and entirely pleased that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. He sits back again, relaxing, and allowing his own proud smile to come through.

“They’re fantastic, aren’t they?” he grins. “I wonder how I got such wonderful children.”

“I suppose it’s one of those things you wonder forever when you’re a father,” Charles agrees. “Still, I learned to not take it for granted. I don’t think I was meant to be a father. But I do try to be one, just so my children never experience what it’s like to grow unloved.”

Erik turns the idea in his head. He’s always thought he could be a family man if he tried, and he used to be a good one. He would have been a fool to let it pass by, when the opportunity arose again. Erik had grown with love in his life and lost it too soon, and Charles had grown without it and found it when it should have been too late. But aren’t they managing pretty well? Despite the pain, isn’t it working out all right?

“That’s alright. I think your children are pretty loved,” Erik says. “Perhaps we can’t save everyone. But we can save our children, and that’s enough.”

Charles nods. He grabs his hand and gives it a kiss. He’s a little lost in thought, and he admits quietly: “I still wish I could save everyone. I—I haven’t really given up on that dream, you know. So many of my centers still foster humans and mutants alike, still… I don’t know. I live in reality and I entertain the dream whenever I can. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll always be a hypocrite like this.”

“I sleep with the helmet under my bed,” Erik admits. Quid pro quo, or something like it. “I can’t help but wonder sometimes if everything would be easier had I simply kept working towards my goal, unrelenting, without the mercy I am showing them. And Charles, sometimes I really wish I had kept what I was doing. But it’s a part of us, isn’t it? We just have to keep going.”

Charles’ hold on his hand is stronger now. “We must keep going,” he agrees. “Erik. Are you aware of how grateful I am that you’re back in my life?”

Just like that, a smile begins tugging at his lips again. He leans in a little, enjoying the closeness to Charles. “I am,” he leans closer, nosing his cheek. “Tell me anyway.”

“I love you,” Charles says, cradling his jaw. “It’s selfish to ask, but I hope you stay this time.”

“I’ll stay,” Erik promises, suddenly so certain of it. He presses a kiss to his mouth, sighing. “It’ll be fine this time.”

You know, Charles begins as he brings him in for another kiss, I had so many dreams where you said those exact words.

Does it live up to your dreams?

No, I’m afraid it’s even better.

“We should go inside,” Erik tells him, dropping kisses on his neck. “We have this whole floor for ourselves.”

“How could I say no to that?” Charles says, separating himself enough to go inside.

Erik watches as he transfers to bed, dumbfounded, and his eyes fix on Charles’ hands slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt. This is real. It’s happening.

Oh, it’s happening. His mind lights up as Charles notices it, and before he knows it, he’s locking every door and climbing into bed faster than anticipated.

Charles drags him down and it all goes uphill from there.

Later, he’s content against Charles’ chest, not getting enough of their closeness. Of this, of his hand against Charles’ skin, simply exploring it over again. Some lines that weren’t there in their youth. The softness that replaced their rough edges. All the small things that showed him how long it had been, and all the familiar ones that simply felt like coming home again.

Erik presses his lips against Charles’ shoulder, leaving them there. Charles sighs, happily, his mind warm like a blanket being draped over him. I love you, he says into the quiet of their minds linked, even if it’s a little unnecessary. Even if it’s a known fact.

Charles acknowledges it with a nudge, another soft wave of emotions washing over him.

“Are you tired?” Charles asks. “I don’t want to sleep just yet. I want to make this last as long as possible.”

Erik lifts himself up, looking down at Charles. So magnificent, so impossibly his after all this time. Helpless not to, he joins their lips together once more. He ought to be tired of it by now. But of course Charles Xavier is simply that hard to quit.

“I can stay awake for a while longer,” Erik responds. It’s hard, though: Charles’ warmth is so unbelievably soothing. “I missed us like this.”

“So did I,” Charles tucks his hair behind his ear, impossibly gentle. “I can’t quite believe that when I wake up tomorrow, you’ll be here. I’m almost scared to go to sleep.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Erik tells him. “Where else would I go?”

-

“Oh, dad, that is not a good look,” Pietro tells him instead of saying good morning or hi dad or did you sleep well, father? “Those pajamas are way too small on you.”

Erik shrugs as best as he can. Maybe he’ll tear apart these clothes if he does any rough movement. “You can blame Charles for being shorter than me.”

“Or we can blame you for not packing clothes,” Wanda says instead of saying good morning or hi dad or did you sleep well, father? The world is truly ending. “Are you not aware of what sleepovers mean? You’re supposed to bring your own clothes.”

“Thank you, Wanda,” Erik says sarcastically. “Good morning to you both. Have you lost all your manners upon arriving at this house?”

“You can’t blame us for being scandalized,” Pietro says. “It’s our right. You’d be scandalized too if you were us.”

“I highly doubt it,” Erik shakes his head. Then he looks around the kitchen. “Seems as though we are up earlier than the actual people who live in this house. Are there sleepover rules about that?”

“Well,” Wanda begins. She frowns. “I don’t think we’ve had many sleepovers. I guess we can… cook breakfast for everyone?”

David walks in after she says that. “You guys are fucking noisy for six in the morning.”

“It’s eight,” Pietro corrects.

“Same thing,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “Is Xandra awake yet?”

“Not that I know of,” Erik replies. “Good morning, David.”

“Yeah, yeah, good morning,” he waves him off. “This is strictly a no talking until we’ve had coffee household.”

He chuckles at that. “I understand. I’ll get to it, then.” And then, frowning, “Your father doesn’t take coffee.”

“True. I do, and I’m clearly more important than him,” he says, grinning, and Erik has a new wave of fondness for the kid. “Can you make us eggs, too?”

“Sure,” he says. Wanda and Pietro take a seat at the table, always looking for an opportunity to slack off. He opens the fridge, grabbing a couple of eggs, and then—

“Good morning, Mr. Lehnsherr,” one of the eggs says—

Erik almost drops it as Xandra comes to her actual form. “You should see the look on your face!”

Erik is horrified.

His children are snickering, the traitors that they are. David is smiling. “Oh, alright. It’s a pretty good prank, Xandra.”

“I’m never doing breakfast again,” Erik says, pretending like he didn’t get the scare of his life. How’s he meant to crack eggs now? “You children are so ungrateful.”

How can you be so grumpy first thing in the morning?

You’d know why if you were down here with these children, Erik replies back, but his mood clearly brightens. Good morning.

Good morning. I see you fell for the eggs prank.

Is this a common occurrence?

Not after she ran out of people to pull this prank on. Congratulations, Erik, you’re part of the family now.

He glances at the children chatting together and marvels at Charles’ presence inside his head, something so utopian and somehow real.

Yes, I suppose I am.