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Charles had a way of making people feel good about themselves. It was presumably because of how well he thought of himself. He carried a confidence that showed on his shoulders, on his clothes, in his smile. It was seamless, nearly careless–if speaking to him didn’t exhibit just how much he cared.
He had a habit of caring a lot.
Stubbornly so, yes, but his talents lied in the quality. That’s how he managed to make people feel so good.
And Erik was no exception.
For the first time in a long time, Erik felt good . Self-doubt and anxiety hadn’t been a struggle of his as it’d been for most of them; it wasn’t something he could afford. But, since meeting Charles, he finally realized what it meant to feel accepted. It was a wonderful feeling, an addicting feeling, and the only reason he had stuck around this long.
Which was how he ended up in the cramped seat of a Ford Mustang, driving up the I-90 to look for other mutants with barely enough sleep to focus on the road. Good thing Charles Xavier sat in the passenger seat with enough excitement and conversation to keep them both awake for the next 8 hours–probably for the next week, if needed.
And Erik needed it.
“Isn’t this marvelous? I’ve never driven through New York like this. They never mention all the scenery past the city.” Charles was pressed to the glass of the window, staring in an amazement Erik could only faintly make out from his position. Still, his excitement was clear in his voice: hitching and breathless.
He had a habit of sounding breathless when enthralled.
Erik didn’t linger on the thought. “Really? That surprises me.”
“All the greenery?” Charles turned in his seat, facing the dashboard. A redness covered his forehead from where the glass pressed into his skin, but he rubbed it off with ease. “Yes, it’s very interesting actually, but New York is on–”
“No, no.” Erik shook his head. “It surprises me that you’ve never left the city.”
“Ah. ”
It hadn’t surprised him. Charles seemed like the type to live in the city and remain in the city. There was something about his upright, proud demeanor that ached for the distractions only cities could satisfy. Not to mention the people; Charles needed people.
From the silence he received, Erik had the feeling that Charles had picked up on his assumptions.
“Because you’ve visited New York plenty of times, right?” He’d clarify anyway.
“That’s a… fair assumption.” Charles admitted it with a nod, stifled. “Yes–yes I have visited the United States a few times.”
A few. The words brought a smile to Erik’s face. Even he had known it was quite more than a few; at least it confirmed his assertions.
Charles spoke up again, his own urge to clarify needlessly surfacing with Erik’s smug expression. “My trips were almost always for academic purposes. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I went to New York that wasn’t purely for research conferences or–or studies! There are hundreds of talented people that do good, great work here. It would be foolish not to see it.”
He had a habit of clarifying needlessly.
Erik eyed Charles with a raised brow.
“Purely academic.” Charles blinked mindlessly. “And I suppose a few family vacations–but those don’t really count.” He uttered his last statement in haste.
Again, Erik’s smile grew.
Thank god for Charles’ honesty.
“Of course.” Erik returned his attention to the road.
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Right.”
Charles turned toward Erik, his own smile present: amused and curious. “Why do I get the feeling you’re making fun of me?”
“Am I?” Erik pursed his lips. “I’m sure you can check if I am.” He was teasing.
Charles squinted, skeptical of the challenge. “I thought you didn’t enjoy me poking through your head.” He had taken the insinuation to heart.
“I don’t, but that’s never stopped you before.”
It was a truth neither of them could deny–not that Erik would expect Charles to. The man had taken pride in how often he read other’s thoughts, even without their knowledge. Erik had considered it a bad habit, but after how often he was a victim of such habits, he quickly settled on otherwise.
This was just how Charles connected with others.
Still, Erik held mild loathing with it. It was too personal, too vulnerable. Any comforts he found with Charles were layered in the understanding that privacy couldn’t be something between them. Well, privacy for Erik.
A blessing and a curse.
Charles hummed simply, “It can’t be helped.”
Erik let out an exasperated laugh at the response.
It can’t be helped. Of course, it can. If anyone could help it, Charles certainly could, he just didn’t want to. Erik was sure he didn’t want to, and, at times, Erik didn’t want him to either.
A blessing and a curse.
“Really!” Again, Charles read his doubt. “Your thoughts are much too loud, Erik–even when I’m not actively searching for them. In fact, it’s more difficult to ignore it.”
Erik felt a rush of insecurity flood his mind. His thoughts? Loud? Surely this was Charles’ way of teasing him back.
“Is that the excuse you’re going with?” Erik bit back his agitation, forcing another laugh. “What a good man you are, Charles.”
“Oh, please. I can prove it to you.”
Erik tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Can you?” Again, doubtful.
Charles gave an enthusiastic nod. “I bet I’ll be able to tell what you’re thinking with my hands on the dashboard–and without even looking at you.” He placed his palms in front of him as if to hone in on his point, straightening forward.
“Might as well close your eyes too while you’re at it.”
“No, that’ll just aid in concentrating my abilities.”
Erik pursed his lips, letting out his own hum.
“Unless you want me to read your thoughts and prove my point.” Charles closed his eyes. “I’ll gladly accept the victory then–thank you, Erik.”
Erik didn’t bother to respond, keeping his attention to the road. He’d take Charles’ word in his position and bask in the momentary opportunity to let his mind wander.
He tried to keep his thoughts chained down–as much as a person could–since befriending a telepath. Especially since that said telepath was eager for connection. Although his attempts were rather fruitless given his apparent “loud” thoughts.
Damn Charles for his honesty.
Erik’s head lulled back against the seat, searching for a thought as his eyes scanned the empty road. He had to think of something: something absurd that would startle Charles into hesitancy, something to ease himself.
He needed to think of something that made him feel good.
Crushing metal: the sensation on his palms, between his fingers. As easy as a breath. As easy as piercing skin.
He could see the way metal met skin–met human bodies. Crushing, crushing, crushing, just from his hands: seamless and beautiful.
Perfect. The sensation was perfect. The sensation was exceptional: hard like the cold air catching in his breath. It felt good, hadn’t it?
Then he thought of a gentle hand on his shoulder, the breath beside him heavy and warm. Then the matching smile, equally inviting. A soft touch. A comfort. A welcoming kindness.
Charles.
Charles had a habit of making him feel good.
So very good.
Erik shifted in place, his eyes wandering back to the passenger seat. There had been a worry that Charles had been able to read his thoughts, but from the way he remained with his hands flat, eyes closed, and body relaxed, he hadn’t.
Maybe.
Erik’s lips thinned but allowed himself to relax with the reassurance. He continued in his thoughts.
Charles.
He could see him smiling: with those perfect white teeth of his, the curl of his lips, the slight squint of his eyes, and the raise of his brow. Seamless. Careless.
It was the look of pleading adoration.
Now Erik was being careless. But it couldn’t be helped, could it?
No. No, it couldn’t. Erik didn’t want it to be helped.
So when his mind veered back to the thought of Charles’ lips, he let it. Those red lips, as gentle as his hands had been pressing onto his. He couldn’t shake the idea of them, or their taste: bittersweet and addicting.
Then, those hands. How they’d cup his face, urging him forward, pressing them together. A soft touch. A comfort. A welcoming kindness.
God, was it good.
It was a softness he’d never had, a gentleness he’d never have. It was something he couldn’t return. A crushing, bending love.
Suffocating.
Erik was suffocating in it.
“I suppose I was wrong.”
The voice next to him shook him from his thoughts. Blinking, Erik met it with half-lidded eyes, his mind blank and distant now.
“Hm?”
Charles was staring back at him. “I was wrong. I couldn’t hear anything.” His cheeks were flushed–or maybe they weren’t. Maybe they were always that color. His lips were still red.
Right. Erik had nearly forgotten what he was doing and what Charles was trying to prove. It was a good thing Erik had been right again.
“I suppose you can’t always be right.” Erik tilted his head. “But don’t worry, I won’t rub it in.”
“Ha!” Charles laughed too eagerly. “Sure you won’t….” His breath was caught in his throat.
“Fine, I won’t rub it in too much. ” Erik took it as a friendly gesture, something he’d return with a smile: all teeth.
Charles laughed again. “Let’s celebrate your one victory then, shall we?” He pushed the hair from his face. “I’m starving.”
“One victory?” Erik huffed fake annoyance. “I’m pretty sure I’ve had many more than that.”
“Oh, don’t do this to me, Erik. I’m far too hungry to have another discussion with you.”
“Maybe you should’ve been the one driving then.”
Charles faced him, smiling. They both were.
“Well, once we stop and eat, I’ll gladly take the wheel. How does that sound?”
“Like you’ve read my mind.”
Charles had a habit of reading his mind.