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Hank orchestrated the plan along with Moira, who supplied the specifics over the phone. It was a relatively simple mission, get in, mingle, and get out with the information on their search for a certain scientist who was last seen at this one bar. Straightforward. The issue:
"I'm sorry, what." Charles stared blankly at the unbeastly beast, waiting for the punchline but not receiving one. "You must be mad, Hank, truly mad if you think Erik of all people would play dress up, let alone with me, as my undercover date. I mean, a bar for only homosexuals? I can't just go as a single person? Truly hilarious, thank you, but honestly, what is the actual plan?"
Hank sighed, eyeing the once empty doorway before explaining, "The CIA team posted to this top secret mission agreed with mine and Moira's pairing. You two are the selected candidates with the highest chance success rate. We need the two of you to pretend to be a couple; the people who need to be negotiated with respond well to couples who, well, fit both of your profiles."
"Our profiles?! Two straight men? Seriously, is this a practical joke?"
"I'm afraid not, my friend." Charles instantly stiffened at the sound of Erik's distinct voice. "For the sake of mission, right? No harm, no foul?"
Charles grit his teeth and turned to the man leaning in the doorway. "So, you're okay with this plan? Okay to play my boyfriend?"
Erik shrugged and walked up to his to-be partner, tauntingly draping an arm around Charles' waist, quickly being shoved off by the professor after he had responded, "Afraid you might like it?"
Charles was seething and would never let a soul know why. "Can't I just make them believe I'm with someone?"
"Actually," Hank began, handing the two a manilla envelope, "Neither of you can use your abilities while in the bar. Once you get the intel and are in pursuit, then and only then you can. There's word of a mutant that can sense when another uses their power and, more often than not, are thrown out. So, we can't risk blowing the mission. It’s crucial that you both make sure this goes smoothly, for the future of mutant-kind...You both have the most control over your mutations, so-"
"So we're the perfect candidates," Charles mumbled with a huff, reading the contents in the folder. "And you're certain this will work?"
Hank confirmed, "One hundred percent."
Charles dared a peak at Erik who was already looking back at him, a small smile plastered on his face— somewhat cocky, somewhat frightened. He stopped himself from reading his mind, unsure if he wanted to know why Erik was not as angry about the situation as he was, why he was so calm and collected. He supposed he could ask, but not now, not in front of Hank who was very obviously on edge to hear an answer.
Feeling bad for making him stress, Charles reluctantly said, "I'll do it."
Almost immediately after, Erik said, "I'm in, too."
Hank let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, picking up the phone the next second and thanking while dialing, "I don't know what we would've done. They're going to be very happy."
"So," Erik started as the two walked out the office to give Hank privacy. "You seem thrilled."
Charles forced a smile and said, dismissive, "I'll see you tomorrow, Erik."
All Erik could do was grin and respond as he watched the other man walk away, "Can't wait, darling."
~
Charles was stressed, to say the least. He'd never been so worked up over something so small— it's not like they have to fuck to prove they're a couple, they don't even have to kiss. They just have to show up together, maybe hold hands, and talk the night away. He could probably handle that, but his outfit... "Is this a-" Charles cut himself short, finding a post-it attached to the neatly pressed black suit pant, white button-up, and black, lacey thong with a little bow in front saying, 'This isn't a joke. -Hank p.s. Please, just wear it. It'll sell the image.'
"Bet Erik doesn't have to wear something so humiliating," Charles grumbled to himself as he got dressed. He pretended that the underwear wasn't as uncomfortable as he thought, pretended that he didn't kind of like it, and realized why it was necessary. Looking at himself in the mirror, the strings of the thong were on display against his pale hips. They were only just visible when he was still and upright, but obvious and almost erotic when he moved, especially when he was bent over. The shirt he wore was perfectly fitted to his chest and arms, the hem settling an inch above the waistline of his pants, creating a more feminine shape and appearance. Why did Hank have to be right. He'd fit right in. Tousling his hair and pressing his lips together to make it appear kiss-bitten and swollen, he decided he was finally ready.
Charles was in the middle of slipping on his shoes when he heard three little knocks at his door. Without waiting for an answer, Erik let himself in and grinned at the sight before him. "Wow."
Charles immediately stood back up, rolling his eyes as he straightened out his top, his back to Erik. He was about to say something, some kind of retort, but stopped himself as he watched Erik in the mirror checking him out. Idea. Charles was going to have some fun tonight, he decided. Two can play at Erik's little taunting game. "Wow yourself," Charles gleamed, turning just his head to properly look at Erik’s attire. He looked relatively normal, leaning against his doorframe donned in a suit he'd typically wear, but, almost similar to himself, Erik had a almost too-tight white button-up that was tucked in. However, the first three buttons remained unlatched, revealing a tanned and toned chest. He had on a dark grey suit with a matching jacket which he slung over his right shoulder, his other hand shoved in his left pocket. The top half of his pants were a tight fit, flaring slightly from his knees down, which left very little to the imagination. Feeling his ears growing red, Charles tore his eyes away and turned back to the mirror. Clearing his throat, Charles asked, "Ready for tonight?"
Erik opened his mouth to answer but nothing came as Charles suddenly bent down to finish tying his laces, but this time Erik actually was able to properly see what happens. "You're, uh..."
Charles laughed to himself and quickly tied the bow before getting back up, turning to see the surprised amusement across the infamous Magneto's face. "I what?" Charles teased, strutting to the door, mere inches away from Erik before stopping to tilt his head, puppy dog-like, and placed a hand on Erik's elbow. "Still confident in your decision?"
Erik, looking down into Charles' determined eyes, now understood that this was a match, a banter, a battle. "Never more," he responded, low voiced, flirty. He took the hand that wasn't on his arm and brought it to his lips, saying before kissing it, "Confident in yours?"
"Never more," Charles whispered, eyes glued to the branded hot lips that defaced his skin. Forcing himself to snap out of it once he realized what he must've looked like, he awkwardly smiled and said, "We ought to get going. Can't be late."
Erik hummed but didn't let go of Charles' hand, instead turning on his heel and leading Charles toward the garage. Sensing the queries, Erik finally answered as he opened the passenger door for Charles and motioned for him to sit, hand-in-hand to help him in, "If we're to play the part, we might as well act it."
Once Charles was situated, Erik closed the door behind him and sat himself in the driver's seat. Opening the garage door with the flick of his wrist, the two were officially off on their mission. The drive was quiet, save the light rain that echoed through the tin car and the soft screech of window wipers. It wasn't too far from the mansion, but long enough to stir an uncomfortable silence. Charles had nothing but his memory of mere minutes ago when the two were staring at each other, as if something were about to happen involving lips on something other than his hand— which alone made his hand feel heavy from the previous attention. He could feel the outline of Erik's lips, can almost feel them against his own.
The car came to a stop, stopping Charles' thoughts at once, and there they were. From the outside, it looked like any old bar, the type where it's been around since long before prohibition— possibly a staple location for cops to bust those who were drinking and tending at the time. Luckily, this was a day and age where getting absolutely hammered was the furthest thing from being illegal, a fact Charles was dying to accomplish after the mission was over. The two, now walking to the doors, shook off their nerves and, as Erik held open the door for Charles, stepped into character as they did the bar. The booming music drowned the professor’s rapid pulse as Erik settled his hand on Charles' lower back and, much to his repressed attempt, didn't shake it off. Rather, he leaned into the touch, painting a loving grin as he placed himself in Erik's personal space. With the arm closest to Erik, he snaked it up his suit jacket and settled it by the base of his ribs. Now in a side-hug of sorts, the majority of the bar had their eyes on them. They were the star of the evening, Charles sensed. Simply by scanning, he could tell this bar was filled by regulars and regulars only. They'd have to work harder to become more... familiar. It seemed Erik had the same thought, moving the hand on Charles' back to partially cover the now exposed thong strap, thumb looping around to snap it in place and further reveal itself to the onlookers. Refusing the blush and maintaining utmost confidence, Charles finally felt the success of the move fade into the crowd. They both breathed in relief and beelined for the bar.
"Two scotch neats, please," Erik ordered the bartender, slipping him a ten as they clambered atop the stools. As the bartender scurried away to pour the drinks, Erik whispered to Charles, "You sold the show back there."
Charles scoffed, muttering, "You're the reason they believed it."
"I'm not the one wearing the girly underwear."
"I-"
"Your drinks, sir," the man said, placing the two glasses in front of them. "Let me know if you need anything else."
"Thank you," Erik piped up with a smile and took a swig. "Mm, good whiskey."
Charles glared but didn't say anything. He took a sip and sighed, "Okay, what's our move."
Erik turned in his seat, back pressed against the table, scanning the floor. "There," Erik pointed with his glass, "Seems couples are talking most there."
Charles looked to see where Erik was talking about and immediately said, "Absolutely not. I can't— won't dance."
"Come on, Charles, live a little," Erik already was out of his seat, hand held out for Charles to take, which he begrudgingly did. "All you have to do is stay close to me. I know how to lead in this kind of dance."
The professor barked out a laugh and took a large gulp of liquor before allowing himself to be dragged to the dance floor. Erik scooped both of Charles' hands in his and pulled him close, closer than they were in Charles' doorway. With his eyes locked on Charles', he slid his hands slowly down the smaller man's body and gripped his waist. Instinctive, Charles wrapped his arms loosely around Erik's neck and let Erik guide him into a smooth rhythm. The alcohol most definitely helped him loosen up, his hips moving like butter under the hot blade that is Erik's touch. They were close enough to feel radiating body heat, but far enough to not be touching, unlike the rest of the dance crew. Charles didn’t know if he was imagining it, but he felt as if they were getting judged for being too family friendly. So, he made his move.
“My turn,” Charles said as he abruptly spun himself, still in Erik’s grasp, but now had his ass pressed firmly against Erik’s crotch. Not waiting for a reaction, Charles swayed and ground his hips to the rhythm, somewhat in poor time due to Erik’s lapse in help, but it didn’t matter so much as the loud chatter went back to normal around them. Charles kept his mouth slack with a hint of a grin as he observed others had done. His hands still remained in the air, but this time his fingers wove through the hair on the back of Erik’s head. Erik seemed to have finally gotten out of his shock and began to match the energy. His hands mapped Charles’ torso, one under the other over his shirt. Charles lolled his head back into Erik’s shoulder, looking up at his leader and smiling. Genuinely. Erik smiled back, but it didn’t last long as reality dawned on him. The mission.
Erik unwillingly tore his eyes away from Charles’ face and resumed his scanning of the room. Neither knew exactly what this scientist looked like since every sighting showed him to dress completely different, from hair color to aesthetics. The man also had a very generic face shape, that of a Western European, and so was at least half those on the dance floor alone. That was until he noticed a neon pink strand of hair reflecting back into his eyes that he found a very possible suspect.
“Four o’clock,” Erik murmured in Charles’ ear. “What do you think?”
“I think we should buy him a drink. Good eye.”
Slowly easing out of the floor without seeming suspicious but still watching the pink haired man, Erik approached the bartender once more and asked, “What’s the rule on buying others a drink?”
The man smiled and said, “None. Just expect to go home with them.”
Charles and Erik shared a look, and Erik responded, “Send the fine gentleman with pink hair a dirty martini.”
“Quentin prefers daiquiris,” the bartender smiled. “Shall I bring him that instead?”
Erik reflected the smile, agreeing, “You know best. Make sure he knows it’s a package deal.”
“Certainly, sir.”
Once the man was out of earshot, Charles flirted, “First date and you already want to share me?”
“Trust me, darling,” Erik said, looming at the man before him. “If this were a real date, you’d be the last person I’d let anyone touch.”
“Too bad it isn’t real. Not looking forward to a creepy old scientist wanting to get on me.”
“It won’t come to that.”
“You heard the man, we’re sending him an invitation.”
“No, we’re taking him home with us.”
“Ah, clever. But, what do we do when we’re expected to do more.”
“Well,” Erik began, tapping on the glass of his nearly finished scotch that he had reunited with. “By then, we’ll be out of the bar, so-”
“Free rein of power,” Charles completed. “I don’t believe I compliment you enough on your brilliance. Nor on your dance skills. Seriously, where did you learn to move like that?”
Erik chuckled and countered, “I should ask you the same. You danced beautifully. I hardly had to do a thing.”
“Oh, flattery,” Charles blushed, dismissing with the wave of a hand. “It was partly the alcohol, partly you- your lead.”
Erik couldn’t resist his stare, watching in fascination as Charles blabbered about how terrible he would have been if it weren’t for his help and encouragement. He was hypnotized by the curve of his lips as he enunciated every word he spoke, his accent smooth, like a lullaby. “You are so beautiful,” he found himself saying, only realizing he’d said it out loud after Charles had stopped talking. Erik didn’t even have time to elaborate or take it back because the suspect in question had interjected:
“Good evening, handsomes,” the alleged Quentin greeted with a cheesy grin. He must have been in his late forties, maybe early fifties, but dressed as if he were in his twenties. “You’ve certainly got my attention, and might I say, we will make a mighty threesome. Twink, dom, and me. Quite the trio. How’s some foreplay in the bathroom sounding?”
Every cell in Erik’s body wanted to crush the man into a ball and bowl him down the alley of dancers, but was calmed by the gentle hand Charles placed on his.
“My boyfriend and I would rather take it to our car,” Charles purred in a low, sultry tone. “He drives while we’ll have some fun. So, by time we’re all hot and bothered, we’d have a nice and comfortable place to fuck nicely. How’s that sound, my dear Quentin?”
That seemed to make the man happy. “Why waste more time here?”
“I agree,” Erik said and laced his hand possessively with Charles’, leading them out of the bar with a forced smile. Thankful the car wasn’t parked too far away because he couldn’t stand to hear the man continually flirt shamelessly with Charles, telling him what unspeakable things he couldn’t wait to do to him. Erik almost crushed the door handle as he opened it with his free hand for Quentin to slide in. He didn’t want to let go of Charles, desperately not wanting him to have to sit next to some creep, but Charles gave him a nod that said trust me. Erik hesitantly let loose of his hold, and allowed Charles to slide in next to him. Soon, they should be able to use their powers.
Erik hurriedly began the drive, trying not to speed but also not caring if he blew past a few stop signs. It had only been two minutes before Quentin moved from words to actions, attempting to get handsy with Charles. The two made eye contact in the rearview, and Erik knew what to do. Erik took control over the metal in the seat belts and effectively tied each limb so the supposed scientist couldn’t move. Before he could protest and scream ‘mutant,’ Charles probed his mind and searched to see if this was indeed the man they were on the hunt for. Luckily, it was, because if it wasn’t… well, that would just be awkward, having kidnapped a random stranger.
For the remainder of the drive, Charles provided the entertainment by making the scientist recite and sing with his whole chest every Elvis song to date. The atrocity in his voice and knowledge of lyrics had the two mutants cracking up until they pulled into the driveway. Charles hurriedly made the man stop, a little shameful in the abuse of his power but the sticking smile lines on Erik’s once pouty face made up for it.
~
Hank was quiet, in shock for a few moments before saying, “You know your job was to gather information, not a whole person, right?”
“At least this way, you can get as much information as you wish,” Erik shrugged, ready to turn in for the night, beginning to walk away.
Charles quickly joined him and said over his shoulder, “Have fun with him, he loves to talk.”
The two shared a giggle and wound up heading to Charles’ room, where they had started the night. Charles was the first to speak, saying warmly, “I had a great time tonight. I honestly didn’t expect I would.”
Erik smiled. “I didn’t have to be a telepath to know that. I did wonder why you were so against it initially?”
Charles stared at his feet, bashful as he admitted, “I was indeed afraid I might like it.”
Erik took a step closer but made no other move. This prompted Charles to meet Erik’s gaze, one that flicked between his wide eyes and his parted lips.
“I really, truly enjoyed it,” Charles breathed, hitching as Erik took another daring step closer. Their faces, their lips were centimeters apart, warm air mingling together in perfect tension as one awaited the other’s first move. “Truly,” he murmured dreamily and the pair’s lips connected at once.