Chapter Text
Charles
Although I don’t tell anyone, I’m attracted to Moira pretty much immediately. It probably didn’t help that I was slightly drunk when I met her in the bar, but nonetheless, I know what I like.
It doesn’t take me long for a woman to catch my eye. I know what I like, and I’m not exactly shy about it. Raven even makes fun of me. Quite a lot actually, which is why she’s familiar with that lustful gleam in my eye, and which is why she confronts me a week into our collaboration with the CIA.
I’m in the middle of shuffling through essays and CIA documents when Raven pipes up from the couch:
“What are your thoughts on Moira?”
My heart stutters a bit, but I keep up a casual front. “What?”
“Moira. What do you think of her?”
I cross to the other side of the room to staple a few of my essays. “I mean…she’s supportive of our cause, which is nice. She’s been very helpful thus far. I don’t doubt that she’ll continue to be helpful. She seems genuinely passionate about finding Shaw and exploring mutants. She’s been a valuable team member.”
Raven chuckles. “I think she turns you on.”
“Whoa.” I give her a sidelong glance and scoff. “Absolutely not. Don’t go there.”
“Charles, I know you. I know that look in your eye. And didn’t I see you walking in the direction of her room the other day?”
I clear my throat awkwardly. “No, that was… I was getting tea.”
“Come on, Charles. Don’t pretend that I don’t know. You’ve been casually flirting with her for the entire week.”
I shrug, giving her a look. “More like at her. She doesn’t seem to be reciprocating.”
“Well, that’s because she’s keeping it professional. Which is probably preferable given our situation and our mission.”
I nod. “Yes, I… It’s probably for the best. And it’s…mostly on a surface level anyway.”
Raven stretches out on the couch and narrows her eyes at me. “Well, are you actually interested in her?”
“Potentially. But like I said, she’s not necessarily flirting back. Which is fine, I guess. I mean, I understand why she’s deflecting all of it. This isn’t an ideal environment to play around in my love life. We have a mission to prepare for.”
“Well…” Raven smirks. “I’m still gonna make fun of you. You’re obviously attracted to her, whether you want to actually pursue something or not.”
“That’s not a crime,” I moan.
“No, it’s not. But I’m your sister. It’s my job to tease you, especially about your love life.”
I return to the desk and slip the now stapled essays into a folder with my name on it. “All right, well…thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome.” She grins. “But keep me updated.”
I grab my folder, gather a few books into my arms, and head for the door. “I most certainly will not.”
Raven laughs as I leave the room.
I stroll down the hallways, heading for the library. I might as well get some reading done before the night is finished. Plus, there’s a physics textbook that I borrowed from Hank that I still have yet to start. I suppose a lazy night is as good of a time as any to indulge in my passions.
The walk to the library is silent and calm, the shadows of the night drifting everyone into a lazy fog. Many of the CIA agents have left for the day, including Moira. Which is fine, I could use an evening to think.
I enter the library and dump my books and folder on a table. I don’t even realize Erik’s in an armchair in the corner until he says something.
“Hey.”
I jump and whirl around. “Oh, my God…” I laugh breathlessly when I spot him in the lamp light, one leg crossed over the other and an old book nestled in his lap.
He smiles. “You finally escaped your study, Professor?”
“Oh, stop.” I wave him off. “I’m not a Professor yet. I need a teaching position.”
Erik shrugs and goes back to his book.
I stare at him a bit longer as he reabsorbs himself back into whatever he’s reading. We haven’t spent much time together since I pulled him out of the ocean, and with the whole mission getting underway, there hasn’t been much time to really enjoy each other’s company. Or…talk. At all, really. This might be the first time that we’ve been in the same room alone together since we met each other, and…
He’s kinda cute.
I look away. Okay, yes, he’s a good-looking man. That’s nothing. I stand there for a moment, then peek back at him.
He’s very cute. He’s…
I don’t miss the way my heart does a few flips as I watch his eyes score the page. He’s…pretty. Beautiful, even. I catch the thought and try to shove it to the back of my racing mind, but as I stare at him, the word beautiful stays burned there.
No, stop. He’s not pretty, not in that way. Not in a…
He adjusts his position in the chair and rests his chin in a hand. His eyes glitter in the lamp light.
All of a sudden, my mind fills with fantasies, images conjured by a confused mind, painting up pictures of my lips on his, holding him tight, cuddling on the couch, stroking his cheek, maybe I could be with him, maybe I could be with him, I want to be with him, I want to be with him–
The overflow of giddiness is replaced immediately by fear. The string of images ends.
Whoa. No, no, no, stop. It’s not like that. I’m not like that. I’m attracted to women. It’s always been that way, right? I’ve already decided, it can’t change, it’s not allowed to change, I’m twenty-two, it’s too late for it to change.
Isn’t it?
“You all right?”
I snap out my thoughts.
Erik is raising his eyebrows at me.
“Uh…” I shake myself and rub the back of my neck, resisting the giddy smile that’s trying to fight its way onto my face. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.”
Erik eyes me for a moment longer, and his intense eye contact makes my heart flutter again. Shit. What the hell is going on with me? This is crazy, this is insane. I can’t feel this way. I’m done. It’s too late to change, my sexuality is set in stone, branded into my soul by the expectations of others.
I turn away from Erik abruptly and sink into a nearby couch, innocently picking one that’s a bit closer to him and that’s facing him. I open the textbook that I pluck from the coffee table and settle in for what I wanted to be a peaceful night of reading.
But I keep seeing Erik out of the corner of my eye, and in the corner of my mind, until his presence makes the words on the page nonexistent. I keep my eyes fixed on the page in order to not arise suspicion, but my mind is on anything but my physics.
It’s on chemistry, if anything. And I am on fire. My entire body sizzles with a whimsy, terrifying heat, my cheeks burn, and sweat seeps into my clothes. Shit, shit, shit, what the hell is wrong with me? This has never happened before. I mean, sure, I’ve been curious before about men and my relationships with them. My thoughts about them. I find many of them really pretty, and I guess I could say I have a type. But…it was never anything more than that.
Right?
I think back to some of the times where I’ve seen a man that I’ve found handsome. Maybe too much so. Sometimes I ask, “Would I kiss a man? THIS man?”
Sometimes it’s been a definite no.
But sometimes…I’m not sure. I think maybe. I think I don’t know. I always ‘round it down’ or some shit like that, gaslighting myself, thinking, “No, it’s not even a question. A maybe or an I don’t know means NO. You’re just confused, stop questioning what doesn’t need to be fucking questioned.”
I glance over at Erik again and apply the same question. I don’t even get through the full question before my fantasies return and my immediate thought is–
YES.
No question necessary. I absolutely would.
My hands shake gripping the book. Holy shit, now I’m questioning everything. My entire life. Every interaction I’ve ever had with another man. Am I kidding myself? Is this real? No, this can’t be real.
But I literally just thought about kissing the hell out of him a second ago, and it wasn’t just a thought– it was a pull so strong that the fact that I couldn’t in that moment made me genuinely upset. I’ve only ever felt that with–
A woman. Only once. I can’t ignore this.
But dear GOD, he’s beautiful. And not…not in a straight way. I want him in my arms. I want him against me. I want him on the couch with me. I want my hands on his face.
The book is forgotten in my lap.
A few minutes later, Erik eases his book shut and places it on the table beside him. He gets up and stretches each arm in turn. “All right, I’m going to bed.”
I look up at him and immediately, my thoughts fire off: No, don’t go. I want you here. Having you here is exciting. And terrifying. But don’t go. The urge returns. I push it down. It’s still there. Not leaving.
Erik flashes me a tired smile and leaves the room. My eyes follow him and stay on the closed door long after he’s gone.
I hunch over on the couch, my elbows on my knees and my hands clasped in front of me. My eyes water with sudden tears. Okay, that’s not ideal. I shouldn’t be brought to tears by this.
What if I do find out that I like women and men? Would anybody believe me? I mean, it’s not like there’s loads of evidence throughout my life save some occasional confusion or pondering. What I feel is what I feel, but…wouldn’t I need to prove it? I would have to, right? Otherwise, maybe I’m not. I have to show that I am, otherwise no one will believe me.
No, stop. I don’t need the opinions of others to dictate who I am.
But…but if I came out as bisexual…and they didn’t believe me…what would they think of me?
What would that make me?