Chapter Text
It was a Saturday afternoon, and Peter and Kurt were spending the day as they always spent the best, most productive weekends: playing Fortnite.
“Take that!” Peter exclaimed, lunging forward on the couch to shoot one of the members of the opposing team, successfully killing the guy. Even though Peter always refrained from slipping into superspeed to play the game, since he figured that would be cheating, his reflexes were lightning fast and he was an absolute killing machine. “That was sick! Did you see that, Kurt?” Peter said as his avatar ran to find other people.
“I am a little busy,” Kurt said from where he was dangling upside down beside Peter, his tail wrapped around the fan and keeping him suspended from the ceiling as he stared at the tv. Peter never understood how Kurt could play upside down, but then again, Kurt didn’t really play.
Case in point: as Peter took a moment to look at Kurt’s side of the screen to see what had his friend so immersed, Peter snorted to find that Kurt wasn’t killing anyone or even building anything, but dancing.
“We’re not going to win if you keep that up,” Peter said, his eyes back to his side of the screen as he scouted out a few more enemies, killing them. To be fair, he supposed, at this rate, they probably were going to win regardless of Kurt’s help (or lack thereof), but it was about the principle of the thing.
“Come over to where my avatar is standing, Peter,” Kurt said, his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth in concentration. “I wish to bear hug another character.”
Downing the last of his can of Monster Energy, Peter laughed, giving up on killing more people for the moment and sending his avatar running over to where Kurt’s was waiting. “Sure, man.”
Right as the two avatars were about to hug, however, the doorbell rang, startling Kurt enough that he dropped his console, which landed on the couch beside Peter.
Pausing the game so they wouldn’t get nuked, Peter groaned. Sure, he could probably get the door in less than two seconds if he wanted, but he was feeling supremely lazy. “You wanna get that?”
“No problem,” Kurt said, and in a puff of smoke, he disappeared from his perch on the fan, reappearing upright over at the door to their little apartment and opening it wide.
Craning his neck to look over at the door when he didn’t hear Kurt say anything, Peter could see that it didn’t look like anyone was there. Instead, Kurt was looking down at their doormat, and after a moment, he reached down and picked something up.
“What is it?” Peter called when Kurt didn’t move.
He flinched as Kurt suddenly appeared beside him on the couch, his yellow eyes wide. “You will not believe this,” Kurt said in a shaky voice. “Look.”
Peter took the manila envelope that Kurt held out, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked at their names, boldly emblazoned in fancy script, and then noticed the return address.
1407 Graymalkin Lane, Westchester, New York.
Undeniably the address of the famed Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, which provided a world class education to mutants around the world. An extremely prestigious and exclusive institute.
Although Peter and Kurt were technically too old to attend, since the Xavier’s School only offered elementary through high school educations, they knew that connections at the institute would be incredibly valuable for getting a good job, which they both desperately needed.
Several years ago, Peter had dropped out of high school, and when he’d also struggled to complete his GED, his mom had kicked him out, and the only place that had been willing to hire him was an auto repair company which paid minimum wage.
Kurt, meanwhile, had met Peter when his car had broken down and he couldn’t pay to get it fixed. He’d looked so sad at the realization that Peter had offered to fix it anyway for free, and as they’d slowly become friends, Peter had learned that Kurt was from Germany, and had come to America looking for the mother that had abandoned him at birth.
The problem was, Kurt wasn’t able to get any jobs without a social security number, so he was scraping by, taking any odd jobs he could. Peter had immediately empathized, knowing how it felt to want to know an absent parent.
As the two of them had grown close, it had been Peter’s idea for the two of them to get a place together, since he was living out of his car and Kurt was couch surfing—and that had been one of the best decisions of Peter’s life.
But something needed to change. Despite how cool it was to live together, financially speaking, they were in a pretty rough spot. Even with renting the smallest, most dingy apartment in the worst neighborhood, Peter and Kurt hardly made rent every month and they lived purely off of ramen.
It didn’t help that they were mutants. Degree or no degree, Peter knew no one would want to hire them. Based on appearance alone, Peter could probably get away with passing as a human, but the federally-mandated red X on his ID was always noticed by potential employers and used as a mark against him.
Xavier’s School was the only fully mutant-run institution in the country, and it was widely known that those who attended the school were practically guaranteed jobs; and anyone with connections, too, would more likely than not be offered opportunities not open to the general public.
So when Peter had seen online that the Xavier’s institute would be holding a reception on technology that any mutant could apply to attend, he’d figured that this would be the way for he and Kurt to get their foot in the door.
In the extremely long shot that they were selected to attend the event, they’d be able to make connections with other mutants—and if they were lucky, secure a recommendation from the esteemed Professor Charles Xavier himself.
The envelope in Peter’s hands held the key to their futures.
Holding his breath, Peter eased the letter out of the envelope, Kurt nervously peeking over his shoulder. He didn’t want to get his hopes up—what if this was just a super fancy rejection letter?
But as Peter withdrew the cardstock paper, his eyes widened as they fell upon the words in beautiful calligraphy, which read, Congratulations, Peter Maximoff and Kurt Wagner. You have been selected for an exclusive opportunity.
“‘As you know, the Xavier Mansion prides itself as being a place that accepts mutants of all walks of life to get an education, providing a safe brother- and sisterhood for those who attend,’” Peter read aloud. Holding the paper so that Kurt could read, Peter’s eyes quickly scanned the rest of the letter.
However, we also constantly seek to expand our community with new members, regardless of educational background, and the two of you have caught our interest. It is my great pleasure to invite both of you not only to attend this year’s annual Xavier Mutant Technology Conference (XMTC), but also to spend the weekend at the Xavier Institute. If you agree to attend, you will be housed in one of our many luxury rooms, and invited to participate in extra events throughout the weekend, including tours of the facilities, private seminars with my esteemed colleagues, and faculty dinners. Please give notice of your agreement to participate within one week of receiving this letter, and I will provide you with more details and a schedule of events. I look forward to hearing from you.
Respectfully,
Professor Charles Xavier, PhD
“We did it?” Peter breathed, clutching the paper tightly. He looked up at Kurt. “We did it! It’s even better than I could have imagined—a whole weekend at Xavier’s School?!”
“This is going to be the best weekend of our lives!” Kurt exclaimed excitedly.
Peter grinned. “As long as we act professional and don’t mess with anything, we’re practically guaranteed success and good connections! There’s no way anything can go wrong!”
Famous last words.
…
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Hank asked Charles anxiously, adjusting his glasses as he considered what he’d just been told. “This feels like a recipe for disaster.”
It was the week before the Xavier Mutant Technology Conference, and Charles had called Hank to his office to drop a bombshell.
If Hank was understanding correctly, it seemed that not only had Charles somehow tracked down both the son Raven had abandoned and apparently the son Erik never knew he’d had, but Charles had also invited the two long-lost sons to stay at the mansion for the weekend under the guise of holding exclusive events that didn’t exist.
According to Charles, he wanted to get to know the two boys before telling Raven and Erik about them—and to Hank, that alone was cause for concern.
“From what I’ve gathered through my many observations, Peter and Kurt are lovely, responsible young men,” Charles said. “And we can use the weekend to ingratiate them into our home and hopefully, endear them to Raven and Erik.”
“Do the boys know their biological parents happen to live here?” Hank asked. “I would worry that they might not react well to that information.”
“Neither of them have any idea,” Charles said confidently, passing Hank a folder marked "Victims."
“‘Victims’?” Hank asked dubiously. “Are you feeling alright, Charles? This whole thing is getting more and more concerning.”
“I wanted to be vague about the title just in case Erik noticed it sitting on my desk. He knows that I give boring files exciting names, so if he sees it, he will simply be amused,” Charles explained confidently. “Now look inside. This is a file I’ve compiled on the two of them, which led me to ultimately determine that they deserve the opportunity to join our family.”
Hank flipped through the file, which contained pictures of Peter and Kurt, general information about them—including their heights, birthdays, and their shared address—and tucked in the back, a document that seemed to be their application for attending the XMTC.
Since we are mutants ourselves, we’re very interested in getting the opportunity to learn about the latest mutant technology and hear from some of the most influential mutants of our time, Peter had written.
“So they really have no idea whatsoever,” Hank mused. “Well, that might make this weekend invitation a viable strategy after all. What are their mutations?”
Charles smiled. “I have refrained from reading their minds for their privacy, but from what I’ve gathered, Kurt can teleport, which is something one of his previous employers caught on camera. Peter’s mutation has been slightly more difficult to discern, but I spoke to his employer, and from his remarks about Peter, I have come to the conclusion that the boy’s mutation is that he can instantly fix automobiles. It makes sense, given what his father’s mutation is.”
“Fascinating,” Hank said. “When they’re here, can I study their mutations in my lab? I haven’t had access to many generational mutations, and this would provide some fantastic insight about—”
“No, Hank,” Charles sighed, taking the folder back and tucking it into one of his desk drawers. “I don’t want to frighten Kurt and Peter away, and if you run a litany of tests on them, they might realize that this weekend isn’t quite what I’ve advertised. Hold off on the medical examinations until they know their parentage, please.”
Hank huffed, nodding in disgruntled acceptance.
Charles smirked. “Besides, how would Erik react if he found out that not only did we know about his son before him, but tested on his son?”
“It’s not really testing in that way,” Hank grumbled. “But I understand—no scaring Peter and Kurt with excessive tests, and no offending Erik. I think I can do that.”
“Wonderful, my friend,” Charles smiled.
“One last thing,” Hank said, withdrawing the vial he’d tucked into his lab coat pocket, which was labeled ‘Erik Drink.’ “I know you said that Erik had asked me to invent a serum that would act as a sedative and painkiller for mutants, since typical medicines don’t often work on our unique biology, and this is my first attempt. I haven’t tested it out on anyone, because I think I might have messed up the formula. There’s no telling how strong this sedative is, or how long it would last. So if you get the chance to study it and figure out where I went wrong, that would be really helpful.”
Charles accepted the vial, setting it on his desk with a nod. “I don’t believe I’ll have the time to get to it before the technology conference, but I can certainly add that to my to do list,” he agreed. “And I’m sure Erik will be very pleased that you’ve taken his advice.”
“Right,” Hank said, knowing there was no chance at all the perpetually-grumpy Erik would ever be happy with him, especially after all of the times Hank had tried and failed to get Erik in his lab for a few small tests.
But the failures of the past with Erik only reminded Hank of the new potential for examining the mutation of Erik’s son, and the thought sent a thrill of excitement through him.
With nothing more to say to Charles, Hank stood, meaning to make his way back to his lab as he began to wonder if there were any tests that would seem normal to Peter and Kurt and therefore could be performed on them. There must be some small ones, right? That he could pass off as a natural thing to do to weekend guests?
When Hank reached the door to Charles’ office, his mind focused on the line of thought, Charles called after him. “And Hank?”
Hank turned back curiously. “Yes?”
“If you do end up deciding to bend my rules and disregard everything I’ve been saying to you about not testing Peter and Kurt, at least have the courtesy of letting me know,” Charles said, a knowing look in his eyes. “If you’re too immersed in the project to leave your lab, as you so often are, even simply calling me about it would suffice. Please.”
Hank blushed at having been caught. “Sure—I can do that.”
Charles should stay by his phone, Hank thought as he left the room, because one way or another that weekend, he just had to examine Peter and Kurt’s mutations. This was a once in a lifetime scientific opportunity, and he couldn’t bear to let it pass him by.
…
On the day before Peter and Kurt were scheduled to stay at Xavier’s, said boys were in their apartment in Peter’s room, panicking.
“I don’t have any suits or anything nice,” Peter said, tearing his closet apart and tossing his t-shirts in a messy stack on the floor. “If I wear a black band t-shirt, do you think they’d overlook the logo?”
“I wouldn’t risk it. What if they kick us out for being underdressed?” Kurt moaned. Whereas Peter’s closet was filled only with band t-shirts, ripped jeans, and shorts, Kurt’s did contain nicer shirts and trousers, but his personal style was oversized clothing, which would make him look just as odd if he showed up to the mansion in any of his baggy outfits.
“I could wear one of these shirts inside out, I guess,” Peter said with a frown. “Or should I just pop out and get us some new outfits?”
“I do not have the money for that,” Kurt said, trying on another one of his shirts and sighing as he looked in the mirror at how it hung limply on him.
“No, I know,” Peter said, pitching his voice lower just in case any of the neighbors could hear them through the thin walls. “I meant I’d…y’know…grab ’em before anyone noticed they were gone, so to speak.”
“Absolutely not! Nein!” Kurt gasped, scandalized. “It is not Christian to steal!”
Peter groaned. Since moving in with Kurt, he’d started to curb his worse habits simply because of how genuinely distressed they made his friend, but it was starting to seriously limit his life. It would just be so easy to run over to the mall in superspeed and pick up a few nice items in their size…they probably wouldn’t even be missed…
“Wait, I’ve got it!” Kurt exclaimed, and Peter shook himself out of his thoughts. “I cannot believe I did not think of this before. I set aside several formal outfits for the day that I finally tracked down meine Mutter so that she would not think badly of me. They are unworn and should fit both of us.”
“Are you sure you want to use them?” Peter asked, still preferring the idea of stealing. “That sounds like a pretty special thing for you, man. I wouldn’t mind if you’d want to keep them nice for your mom.”
“I have been hiding them away for too long,” Kurt said, his face grimly determined.
He bamfed away, and Peter could hear him rummaging in his room, and then he returned, a small black suitcase in his hands. Kurt unzipped the suitcase, withdrawing several pairs of black trousers, white dress shirts, suit jackets, and ties.
“I believe Xavier’s will be the step to finding my mother,” Kurt said, looking down at the items in his hands. “And if this allows us to attend, then the clothes are doing their job.”
“If you’re sure,” Peter said, accepting the items Kurt handed him. “But let’s use this as a reminder of the seriousness here. When we get there, we’ve got to be on our best behavior. This has to go right.”
Kurt nodded. “Ja, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, for both of us. We will not let anything ruin our reputations while we are there.”
“Want to shake on it?” Peter asked, extending his hand grimly. “Let’s make a deal—none of our usual antics this weekend.”
“Agreed.” Kurt took the offered hand, sealing the deal.
They had no idea just how quickly they were about to break it.
…
As Kurt and Peter gave themselves an impossible mission, Erik and Raven were sitting across the table from each other in one of the X-Mansion’s many dining rooms.
In front of Erik sat a stack of papers filled with lines of writing; speaking points for the coming conference.
Given Erik’s radical (see: violent) past, he’d never publicly shown his face at any of the Xavier tech conferences despite having lived at the mansion since marrying Charles. This year, however, Charles had offered for Erik to publicly endorse the school’s work, as a show of unity between two figures more popularly known for their rivalry than their marriage.
Erik had agreed, expecting to be told to present a lecture in front of fifty people, maximum, and then Charles had smugly informed him that Erik was scheduled to be interviewed on a live television broadcast about mutant technology with Alex Summers.
Erik loved Charles, but he really hated him sometimes.
Hence why Erik had ended up in the dining room to study his notes in preparation for his television appearance. Erik often used the room as a place to work when he didn’t want to be found—but unfortunately it hadn’t worked at all, because Raven had found him.
“I’m busy,” Erik told Raven irritably, looking down at his notes.
Raven reached out and snatched one of the papers, reading it over and snorting at what she found. “‘Mutant technology is superior to human technology, just as mutants are superior to humans,’” she read. “Winning material, Erik. They’ll love you.”
Erik clenched his fist, and the chandelier above the table began to swing dangerously. “What are you doing here, Mystique?” he asked.
“I come in peace, I swear,” Raven was quick to say, glancing up at the chandelier nervously. “I wanted to see if you’ve noticed the weird vibe around the mansion like I have. I asked Charles about it, but he refused to say anything, so I think he’s in on it.”
“‘Weird vibe’?” Erik repeated, letting the chandelier come to a stop as he surveyed Raven curiously. “What are you talking about?”
“I think Hank and Charles are scheming,” Raven said matter-of-factly. “I caught Hank leaving Charles’ office the other day looking way too excited about something, and he keeps referring to some new experiment he’s apparently going to be doing, but he refuses to say anything beyond that.”
“That’s nothing new for Hank,” Erik scoffed. “You’re paranoid. I’m sure that if something was going on, Charles would have informed me.”
Raven smiled grimly. “Do you want to bet on that?” she challenged.
Grabbing the paper Raven had taken and tucking it back neatly into his stack of notes, Erik frowned. “No, I’m not interested in a bet.”
“Come on,” Raven urged. She unclasped her watch and tossed it on the table in front of Erik. “Just one small bet. Here’s collateral.”
Erik stared at her with irritation. “I don’t bet.”
“As if betting is even that crazy,” Raven said, starting to get irritated herself. “Stop being such a spoilsport for no reason.”
“I said no,” Erik replied.
Raven stood up from her chair so quickly that the legs made an awful screeching against the floor as it scooted back. “So, what—you’re willing to murder people but you draw the line at placing bets?” she spat angrily.
Erik’s expression hardened. Waving a hand, he utilized the metal in Raven’s belt to send her violently flying across the room, out of the door, and into the hallway. “This conversation is over.” Erik pointed, and the door slammed shut in Raven’s face.
Returning to his papers with irritation, Erik didn’t notice that Raven’s watch remained on the table in front of him.
…
That night, when Erik sat down to a chess game with Charles in his usual armchair in the other man’s study, he couldn’t get Raven’s words out of his head.
Moving his first pawn, Erik studied Charles’ face while the other man surveyed the board. He didn’t look like he was hiding anything, but then again, Charles’ natural expression was that of innocence.
“Are you going to be studying me all night, or will you ask the so obviously burning question you have?” Charles asked distantly, finally moving one of his pawns.
Erik pursed his lips at Charles’ perceptiveness. What could he expect from a telepath? “Have you been busy preparing for the conference this weekend?” Erik asked instead, hoping to divert the conversation. If he asked Charles outright if he was up to something, the investigation would go nowhere.
“Yes, I’m quite excited, actually,” Charles said with a smile, looking up from the chess board. “I believe this will be a…conference to remember. How are you feeling about your television appearance?”
Moving one of his chess pieces, Erik shrugged. “I believe it will go smoothly. I’m just not certain how it will be received by the public.”
Charles huffed, likely picking up on the various anti-human lines that were dominating Erik’s thoughts. “As long as you remember to speak from a place of compassion, there should be no issue.”
“Right. Compassion. Just as humans always treat mutants with compassion, yes?” Erik challenged.
Charles reached over and poured himself a glass of whiskey, taking a long sip before replying. “I’m not in the mood to do this with you, Erik. Not tonight.”
The rejection stung Erik, but he didn’t let his expression change, hoping Charles wasn’t astute enough to pick up on his emotions. “Then what do you want to talk about, Charles? What has been capturing your attention these past few weeks?”
Charles set his whiskey down, ignoring the chess board despite it being his turn. “I’ve been preparing for the conference. Nothing more,” Charles said innocently, but Erik could hear the lie in his tone.
“Is that so?” Erik asked, narrowing his eyes as he started to think Raven might have been right, after all. “You’re not planning anything?”
“I—of course not,” Charles spluttered, breaking eye contact. “Just the conference. There are quite a few events, and it’s not an easy thing to schedule, you know.”
“What experiment has Hank been planning on working on, then?” Erik asked.
Charles gasped, before realization settled on his features. “You’ve spoken to Raven, I take it.”
“Well spotted,” Erik snarked.
Charles moved one of his chess pieces, the shakiness of his hands belying his emotion. “I would hope you would take the word of your husband over her word.”
“Well, that’s the thing, Charles,” Erik said, holding his hands out in innocence. “I didn’t listen to Raven, actually. Instead, I defended you to her. And it wasn’t until you just lied to my face that I reconsidered my position.”
“There are things I can’t tell you,” Charles finally said, quietly. “Not yet.”
He clearly intended the words to be conciliatory, but they sparked anger in Erik, and he stood, waving a hand and sending the chess pieces flying in all directions.
“I have no interest in continuing a conversation with a liar,” Erik spat, striding out of the room without a backwards glance.
So it was true—Charles was definitely hiding something, and by refusing to share it, he’d only proven that it was something Erik needed to figure out.
By any means necessary.
…
On the morning that Peter and Kurt were expected to arrive at the mansion, Hank was in his lab deep in one of his experiments when it dawned on him that he’d never let Charles officially know that he was planning on administering some light tests to the two boys.
Hank didn’t mind Charles’ request to call him. It amused him, in fact, that Charles wanted forewarning, which implied either that Charles assumed there was a possibility that Hank wouldn’t test on Kurt and Peter, or that Charles simply thought Hank would do something really problematic.
Pulling off his gloves and picking up his phone, Hank dialed Charles’ number, feeling quite in a dastardly mood despite himself.
When the call went to voicemail, Hank listened to, “You’ve reached the number of Professor Charles Xavier, esteemed Headmaster of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters and renowned mutant geneticist. I apologize for not being at the phone right now, but I am incredibly busy, and I will either return your call or contact you telepathically as soon as possible. Thank you.”
Hank smiled fondly at the professional greeting, and when the beep resounded signaling that it was time for his voicemail, he couldn’t help but decide he might as well have fun with the call.
Charles would know exactly why he was calling anyway, so perhaps Hank could brush up on his acting skills and indulge in the evil scientist persona he’d always admired but had never had the courage for.
“Hi, Charles. Just calling to warn you—one way or another, I’m going to get my hands on Peter and Kurt, and I’ll show you just what a mad scientist I am,” Hank began, speaking dramatically as if he was truly evil. Goofily smiling, he realized that he should reassure Charles that he wouldn’t ruin the man’s plan by offending Erik with the tests, so he decided to bring that up, too. “It was smart, bringing up Erik like that was going to stop me. Well, guess what? Once Erik’s out of the way, Peter and Kurt are MINE.”
With that, Hank paused, figuring he’d checked all the boxes, and he decided to follow up on if Charles had made any progress with the vial he’d left him. “Remember the dangerous serum I left on your desk? I was just wondering if you’d had the chance to test it. I’m really looking forward to seeing if we can make any progress with developing the sedative. I think this will really revolutionize mutant healthcare.”
Hank moved to end the call, but before he could, he realized he should probably reassure Charles just in case the man had bought his act earlier. Hank was a terrible actor, so he doubted it, but he didn’t want to risk bothering Charles and losing his chance of studying Peter and Kurt.
“And again, I won’t really study Peter and Kurt’s mutations if you’re that sure about not scaring them off and you think Erik would genuinely be offended, but I do want to bring them into the lab at least to get the basics about their mutations. I’ll make sure Erik’s not aware. Just wanted to give you a heads up so you don’t think I’m planning to take them out for dissection. Thanks and see you later. It’s Hank, by the way.”
Hank finally ended the voicemail, putting down his phone, and he was about to return to his other experiment when the phone started to buzz, causing Hank to jump.
The caller ID read “Charles,” so Hank immediately fumbled to pick up the phone.
“Did you get my message?” Hank asked once he’d accepted the call.
A chuckle sounded through the phone. “I could hear it in your mind,” Charles said. “You’ve been projecting your excitement rather loudly.”
Hank felt his cheeks redden, and he wondered what else Charles had picked up from his mind. “Then was there something you needed? I mean, not that I’m upset you’re calling, but I do have to get back to my current experiment—”
“I just had one request for you, if you don’t mind,” Charles replied, and Hank tensed, expecting to be told not to conduct tests on Peter and Kurt.
However, to Hank’s relief, what Charles said was actually, “Kurt and Peter are scheduled to arrive in an hour, and something has just come up so I fear I’m going to be too busy to meet them at the doors.” Charles paused. “If you wouldn’t mind greeting them at the doors and then showing them over to my office, that would be wonderful, Hank. I’ll meet them there when I can.”
Hank lit up as he realized that would be the perfect excuse to have some time to conduct tests. “That’s no problem at all! I can just take them by my lab first, and—” Once again, he found himself cut off by Charles.
“No, Hank,” Charles admonished. “I would like to at least have the chance to speak to them before you scare them off. That’s why this is a favor. Please just escort them to my office, and I promise I will allow you time to work with them later today.”
Hank sighed, certain that Charles could telepathically pick up on his disappointment. “Fine. And you said you want me to bring them to your office, and what? Just leave them there?”
“If you don’t mind,” Charles said, sounding distracted. “I will try to be back as quickly as I can, and in the meantime, I don’t want Erik or Raven stumbling onto them, just in case something goes wrong.”
Hank shook his head at Charles’ attempt to control a situation that could definitely get out of hand with just the slightest deviation from the plan. He could only imagine Raven finding Kurt and Peter in Charles’ office—or what if the two boys got bored waiting and left to explore the mansion? Perhaps they would be safer in Hank’s lab… “Well, if you’re sure, I think I can do that. But I hope you won't blame me if something goes wrong.”
“I never seek to place blame on anyone,” Charles said with amusement. “Thank you, Hank.”
With that, he hung up, and Hank was left wondering if this was the craziest scheme he’d been a part of. Charles had asked a lot of him over the years, but inviting his husband’s son and sister’s son to the mansion to surprise all four of them had to take the cake.
But as long as Hank would get to use the opportunity to learn more about mutations, he supposed he didn’t mind.
…
Unbeknownst to both Charles and Hank, but while the two were on the phone, Erik was nearby, hiding out in the room that was adjacent to Charles’ office and wearing his helmet so that Charles wouldn’t know he was spying.
Erik wasn’t planning to do anything too invasive; but he’d thought long and hard about the secrecy and had decided that at least having a look in Charles’ office wouldn’t hurt.
Erik couldn’t hear what Charles was saying through the wall, but he could certainly hear when Charles left his office, wheeling down the hall and leaving everything perfectly open for Erik to investigate.
Easing his way out into the corridor when he was sure that Charles wouldn’t return, Erik flicked a hand, unlocking the door to Charles’ office and swinging the door open.
Erik felt slightly foolish as he entered the room, finding it just as he remembered, with the cabinets, bookshelf, and mahogany desk covered in messy stacks of papers.
Was he going too far?
This was a definite invasion of Charles’ privacy, and Erik wasn’t even sure what he was looking for, if anything. What if he’d misunderstood, and there wasn’t anything going on at all?
Deciding he might as well at least look in the desk while he was here, Erik rifled through the drawers, withdrawing Charles’ folders and dropping them on top of the stacks of papers. The folder on top was titled “Victims,” and Erik paid it no mind, knowing Charles enjoyed putting ridiculous titles like that to amuse himself.
Finding nothing that seemed out of place, Erik was about to give up and put all the files away, but his attention was suddenly caught by a vial sitting on Charles’ desk among the papers.
It wasn’t unusual for Hank to come to Charles with new serums he’d developed, but what really struck Erik was that this vial was labeled “Erik Drink.”
Erik ripped his helmet off, levitating it down onto the armchair in front of Charles’ desk, and levitated the other chair, a swivel chair, over to the back of the room where he was standing. Once he was seated, Erik reached out to pick up the vial, closely studying the blue liquid as anger began to well up inside him.
He suddenly thought he had an idea of exactly what Charles had been hiding from him.
Because Raven had mentioned that she thought Hank was in on it, too, and now seeing the vial, it was all falling perfectly into place.
This was what Erik realized must have happened: Hank had decided to experiment with developing some sort of serum to enhance Erik’s mutation, hence why the label of the vial directed Erik to drink the liquid. Charles, meanwhile, must have heard about it, and—here was the most distressing part—instead of letting Erik know, he’d decided to hide it away and not allow Erik access to it.
This wasn’t going to stand.
Without considering what a bad idea it was to drink a mystery liquid, especially one that had been designed by Hank, Erik jumped up out of the swivel chair, angrily popping off the cap of the vial and downing the whole thing in one gulp, wincing slightly at the liquid’s bitter taste.
For a moment, Erik just stood there in Charles’ office, expecting to feel his power grow and feeling surprised when nothing changed.
Erik was about to conclude that he’d been wrong and the serum must have been worthless, but before the thought could fully cross his mind, his vision darkened and suddenly everything went black.