Work Text:
Erik looks over at Charles, uncertainty clear on his face and then he looks down at the outfit he’s wearing.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” He asks, personally certain it is not but Charles keeps insisting. And Pietro. And Jean, Ororo, Scott, and Raven. “It just doesn’t feel fair.”
“If I could join in and help even it out then I would,” Charles replies, “Sadly though my football playing days are over. I’m sure you’ll do great at it.”
“It seems unfair for one team to have me on it and the other to be young kids who are well-versed in…whatever this game is,” Erik states, looking over the t-shirt and shorts he’s wearing. Now though, the only thing he can think of is what Charles would have looked like in the same clothes.
“Darling, somewhere there are photos of me in my jersey. Play your cards right and I might see if I can still get into the one I had during high school later tonight.” Charles sent, clearly picking up on Erik’s thoughts.
Erik smiles at him and nods, “Alright, I still don’t know how you talked me into this.”
“I think that victory goes more to Pietro than anyone else,” Charles replies, smiling at him, “You have a soft spot for your son.”
There is no way for Erik to deny that Charles is right. If his son asks, there is little he wouldn’t do. Putting on the strange outfit and kicking a ball from one side of the grounds to the other doesn’t seem like a hardship. It will be an excellent way to get his exercise in, after all, and the other kids all had insisted.
Apparently, after finding out he had never been to a school dance —which Charles quickly corrected—they realized he also hadn’t done a lot of other typical teenage things. Like playing a sport and deciding that just couldn’t continue. Thus this game that Erik still isn’t sure what it is. Either soccer or football, maybe one day he’ll find out the difference but that day is not today.
“Come on, can’t be late for your first game,” Charles says with a smile on his face that leaves Erik certain the man is half laughing at him.
“And hopefully my last,” Erik replies, following the man outside to the field that had been set up for their game.
“Blue against red,” Charles announces, rolling out by the lines that had been made on the grass to show where the boundaries are. He looks to the blue team, Ororo, Jean, and Scott, with Hank standing back behind them to be their goalkeeper. Then over to the red team, Erik, Pietro, and Raven with Kurt being their goalkeeper. Maybe blue wasn’t the best color for one of the teams but it had been decided earlier.
“Powers are allowed, aside from that, the normal rules are in place,” Charles continues, “Find your places.”
Erik looks around, wondering where his place is and why Charles didn’t fully go over the rules. How the hell is this game supposed to work? And why are powers allowed? His are not going to have any effect on the game at all. He hates it already.
Pietro runs up behind him and, seconds later, he’s standing across the field in what must be the right place.
A whistle blows, and he looks over to see Charles dropping it from his mouth and, for just a second, is distracted before being pulled into the action.
His eyes dart around until he sees the ball soaring by Hank and into the goal, seemingly from nowhere, then he sees Pietro come to a stop, smiling and cheering. A whistle blows again and he’s more lost than he was the first time as more movement begins.
This time, he joins in, sliding by Scott to take the ball, running and kicking it, almost worried he’ll fall over it in his rush to kick it past Hank, only to realize there are too many people in his way with the kids trying to block. He meets Raven’s eye and kicks it to her, letting her deal with what to do next.
“Don’t break a hip, old man,” Charles sends to him and Erik knows it’s in reference to his fear of tripping and falling. He doesn’t say anything back, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to discretely flip him off when the kids aren’t looking.
The game continues and, before long, he’s starting to pick up on the goal and how everything works. At one point, he even manages to kick a goal in himself.
What is either five minutes or five hours later, the game ends with his team winning. Erik isn’t sure if it’s because of Kurts teleporting to catch and stop the ball, or Pietro’s running though.
Either way, he collapses onto the ground, feeling sweaty, gross, and like he’s had a better workout than he’s had in years. A high that seems to keep going. A smile crosses his face as he feels Charles slipping into his mind, wanting to share in the feeling, a certain sense of nostalgia coming along with it that certainly doesn’t belong to Erik.
Then he’s being crushed as Pietro falls on top of him, followed by Kurt and Raven. He laughs softly as he tries, and fails, to push them off.
“It’s part of the game pops. It has to be done at some point. Most of the time after winning.” Pietro informs him, matter-of-factly.
“So if I find professionals playing this game-“ Erik starts, only for Raven to cut him off,
“They’ll definitely be piled on top of each other every chance they get,” She confirms, nodding.
She falls to the ground beside him, leaving the two boys to slowly climb off top of him.
“Es tut mir leid, Herr Lehnsherr, sie sagten-“
“Kurt, es ist OK,” He replies, smiling and sitting up. “So the game is over now? That was the end of it?” He asks, wanting to make sure this time.
Pietro nods and hops up from the ground, “Yeah, we should do it again sometime though! Maybe next week? Or we could try another sport? American football?”
Erik looks at him, “That's the one with the tackling, right?”
Excitedly, Pietro nods and Erik shakes his head, “I’m sorry, Sohn, but I’m not playing that. You might talk me into basketball or baseball. You would talk me into volleyball before that one.”
Erik stands, knowing he needs to get a shower and into some other clothes, but they all do. And there might be a lot of things he’d do for his son—almost anything—but tackling him was not on that list. Nor was seeing someone else tackle him.
“I’m going for a shower. And maybe some food,” He says before starting the walk back into the school. It only takes a second for him to realize Charles is following right behind him.
“I think I know where my old jersey is, if you’re still interested.”
Erik smiles at the thought, “Always, old friend, always.”