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Charles Xavier had one rule about his dorm room: No Tony Stark Experiments.
This rule existed because of what happened the last time Charles had let Tony use his space as a “temporary workspace.” That incident involved a soldering iron, a repurposed microwave, and a now-banned-from-campus invention that Tony swore was meant to “improve instant ramen” but instead caused an electrical fire that shut down power to an entire dorm.
And yet.
And yet.
Against his better judgment, Charles let Tony in.
“Relax, Professor,” Tony had said breezily. “This is totally safe.”
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” Charles had replied, watching as Tony set up an array of circuit boards and what looked suspiciously like parts of an actual missile guidance system on his desk.
“I’m serious,” Tony insisted, grinning as he tightened a wire. “This is next-level stuff, Tinkerbell. AI-powered environmental sensors. You’re looking at the future of climate control.”
Charles had arched an eyebrow. “Why does climate control need an arc reactor component?”
Tony’s smirk widened. “Because I like overkill.”
Charles sighed.
It took exactly fifteen minutes for everything to go wrong. At first, there was a soft beep. Then another. Then a hissing sound that Charles didn’t like at all.
Then—
BOOM.
Smoke. Sparks. The entire fire alarm system in the dormitory exploded into full-blown chaos. Sprinklers activated. Sirens wailed. Students ran out of their rooms, yelling.
Charles lunged for the power supply, trying to shut it off. Meanwhile, Tony was cackling like a mad scientist, drenched but delighted, eyes gleaming in the flashing emergency lights.
“Okay, okay,” Tony wheezed. “So maybe there’s a small overheating issue—”
Charles snapped. “TONY, YOU COMPLETE AND UTTER MENACE, I SWEAR TO—”
As if they weren't in enough trouble, the RA, Logan showed up at the most inopportune time. He was six-foot-two, built like a linebacker, and very tired of their nonsense. “Which one of you did this?” he growled.
Tony, without hesitation, pointed at Charles.
Charles nearly murdered him.
“That’s it,” Logan sighed. “Both of you. My office. Now.”
***
Charles and Tony were sentenced to campus service hours cleaning up the dorm they had flooded.
Charles didn’t speak to Tony for three days.
On the fourth day, Tony showed up outside his room, holding a laminated apology note, an actual fire extinguisher, and a brand-new mug that read:
Professor X’s Favorite Genius (Under Duress)
Charles stared at him. Tony wiggled his eyebrows.
“Truce?”
Charles grabbed the mug, slammed the door in his face, and refused to admit he was smiling.
And just like that, they were fine again.
Tony and Charles had vastly different views on the nature of humanity. It started out as a polite philosophical debate in the dining hall. It did not stay polite.
“People are inherently selfish,” Tony declared, stabbing his fork into his pancakes. “It’s just basic survival instinct. They only do the right thing when it benefits them.”
Charles, sipping his tea, gave him a cool look. “You’re oversimplifying. People want to be good. They just need the right environment to make better choices.”
Tony scoffed. “That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard—”
“Oh, please,” Charles rolled his eyes. “You think cynicism makes you profound, but it just makes you predictable.”
Tony slammed his fork down. “Oh, I’m predictable? That’s rich coming from you, Mr. ‘Everyone Just Needs a Hug and a Good Childhood.’”
Charles narrowed his eyes. “You act like people are hopeless, and yet you keep inventing things to try to fix the world. If you truly believed humanity was doomed, you wouldn’t even bother.”
Tony leaned forward, smirking. “And you act like everyone’s a lost puppy that just needs a little love, but your entire social circle consists of me, a guy who builds weapons, and Raven, a girl who scams people out of their inheritance.”
Charles opened his mouth, then closed it.
Raven, sitting beside them, casually stealing Tony’s fries, just shrugged. “I mean, he’s not wrong.”
Charles scowled. “Whose side are you on?”
“My side,” she said, stuffing another fry in her mouth.
Tony smirked. Charles, who refused to let Tony win, straightened his posture and smiled sweetly. “Fine. You think people are selfish? Let’s test it.”
Tony’s smirk faltered. “…What?”
Charles suddenly stood up and—with zero hesitation—picked up Tony’s full glass of orange juice and poured it over his head. The entire dining hall went silent. Tony, dripping orange juice, blinked.
“Oh,” he said, voice too calm. “Okay. That’s how we’re playing this?” Without breaking eye contact, Tony reached over, grabbed Charles’ untouched cup of tea, and threw it directly at Charles’ chest.
Gasps. Raven howled with laughter. Chaos erupted. A random freshman in the corner screamed. And then Tony climbed onto the table.
“Attention everyone!” he announced, gesturing to the growing mess. “As you can see, my idiot best friend has made a disastrous life choice. Now, let's see if humanity redeems itself—who wants to help clean this up?”
Silence. Crickets. No one moved. Tony grinned triumphantly at Charles. “See?” he said smugly. “People suck.”
Charles, who was still dripping tea, picked up an entire slice of Tony’s pancake and smacked him in the face with it.
And that’s when the campus cops arrived.
***
Charles and Tony were banned from the dining hall for two weeks. They were also required to attend “conflict resolution mediation” as if that would solve anything.
Charles refused to speak to Tony for three days. On the fourth day, he found Tony sitting outside his dorm, holding a mystery envelope.
“…What is that?” Charles asked warily.
Tony smirked and tossed it at him.
Charles opened it—and gasped.
Inside was a professionally framed black-and-white photograph of Charles throwing orange juice in Tony’s face. “Where did you get this?!” he demanded.
Tony shrugged. “A very entrepreneurial photography major snapped it at the perfect moment. I bought the rights.”
Charles glared at him. Tony grinned.
“Truce?”
Charles exhaled, rubbing his temples. “You,” he muttered, “are impossible.”
Tony winked. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”
And just like that, they were fine again.
Charles Xavier did not get crushes.
Certainly not the kind that turned his brain to mush and made him embarrass himself in front of his best friend and, worse, Erik Lehnsherr; the one person who was both a walking temptation and an insufferable bastard.
So when Tony immediately figured out that Charles had it bad for Erik, he decided to be the absolute worst about it.
It started at an upscale house party Raven had dragged them to.
Tony, of course, had zero interest in being here beyond causing mild chaos. But Charles had a reason for attending, and that reason was currently leaning against the balcony, sipping bourbon, and looking obnoxiously perfect in his fitted shirt and leather jacket.
Erik.
Raven—who had also figured out Charles was in love and was not letting him live—elbowed him hard. "Go talk to him."
Charles scoffed. "Why would I? He's probably plotting world domination."
Raven smirked. "So? You love a challenge."
Tony—who had been eavesdropping, because of course he was—suddenly threw his entire weight against Charles, nearly knocking him over. "Tinkerbell, you absolute coward," he said dramatically. "Go make out with your morally ambiguous crush before I take matters into my own hands."
Charles hissed in embarrassment. "Tony—"
But it was too late. Erik turned at the sound of his name, immediately locking onto Charles. His gaze flicked over Tony, who was grinning like a little gremlin, then back to Charles. Slowly, infuriatingly, Erik smirked. Charles’ brain blue-screened. Tony, sensing an opportunity for maximum destruction, grabbed Charles by the shoulders and physically shoved him forward.
Charles tripped. Right into Erik’s chest.
Erik caught him effortlessly—because of course he did—one hand gripping Charles’ arm, the other bracing his hip, their faces inches apart. And that’s when Tony decided to ruin Charles’ entire life.
“Sorry, Erik, but our dear Professor Xavier here was just telling me how much he enjoys gazing longingly at you across campus.”
DEAD SILENCE.
Charles froze. His soul left his body. Erik arched a slow, knowing eyebrow. Raven choked on her drink. Tony beamed like the devil himself.
"...Is that so?" Erik asked, voice dangerously amused.
Charles wanted to commit actual murder. But Tony was not done.
"Oh, absolutely," Tony continued recklessly. "In fact, if I had a dollar for every time Charles sighed dramatically about your ‘ridiculous jawline,’ I’d be able to afford another missile silo."
Charles saw red. With zero hesitation, he grabbed the nearest drink and dumped it over Tony’s head. Gasps. More silence. Erik, to Charles’ horror, actually laughed.
Tony, soaked and smug, wiped a hand down his face. "Okay," he said, "rude."
Charles, furious and humiliated, stormed out of the party before Erik could say anything else that would make him spontaneously combust.
***
Charles ignored Tony’s texts for a week. This was the longest they’d ever gone without talking. And then, on the eighth day, Tony showed up to Charles' dorm, holding a manila folder labeled "Charles Xavier’s Tragic and Embarrassing Love Life."
Charles glared daggers at him. "I hate you."
Tony wiggled his eyebrows. "No, you don’t."
"...Yes, I do."
"You reeeeally don’t."
Charles sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Truce?"
Tony smirked. "Truce—on one condition."
Charles crossed his arms. "What."
Tony grinned wickedly. "You owe me dinner, because that public humiliation was exhausting, and I’m hungry."
Charles groaned. "You are impossible."
Tony shrugged. "Yeah, yeah. I know."
And just like that, they were fine again.
...Until Charles got a text from Erik later that night that read:
So, about my jawline—want to discuss it over dinner?
Charles was going to scream.
There was a fine line between harmless chaos and actual destruction, and Tony Stark—genius, disaster, world’s most lovable menace—had leaped over it, set it on fire, and danced in the ashes.
Charles had never been this furious before.
It started innocently enough. Raven had invited Charles and Tony to an underground poker game—a high-stakes, barely-legal affair filled with smugglers, con artists, and the occasional actual criminal. Charles had zero interest in gambling with people who had names like Viper and Knuckles. Tony, of course, had every interest in it.
And worse, so did Erik. Because of course Charles’ incredibly attractive, maddeningly smug, morally ambiguous crush was also here, leaning against a pool table with his sleeves rolled up like he had nothing better to do than drive Charles completely insane.
"Professor," Erik greeted smoothly. "Didn’t expect to see you here."
Charles huffed. "I was dragged here against my will."
Erik smirked. "And yet, here you are."
Before Charles could retort, Tony materialized out of nowhere.
"Gentlemen!" Tony grinned. "I have the perfect idea."
Charles tensed. "Tony. No."
Tony ignored him. "How about a little friendly wager?"
Charles groaned. "Tony, this is not Vegas—"
"Relax," Tony waved him off. "It’s all in good fun."
That was the first lie of the evening. Because Tony, in all his reckless, chaotic glory, bet something he absolutely should not have bet. Which led to Charles storming out of the poker game, rage boiling in his chest. And Tony running after him.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Charles whirled around in the middle of the dark alley outside the club, furious, hands shaking with the effort to not punch Tony in his stupid face.
Tony had the audacity to look amused. "Okay, slightly dramatic—"
"You bet me, you absolute menace!"
Tony grinned. "I didn’t bet you. I just—"
"—told a table full of shady gamblers that if you lost, I would have to go on a date with Erik?"
Tony shrugged. "And?"
Charles made a sound that probably wasn’t human. "And? I'm not a prize to be bartered, Tony!"
Tony scoffed. "Well, obviously. But come on, Tinkerbell, I was doing you a favor.*"
"A favor?!"
"Yes!" Tony gestured wildly. "You’re pathetically in love with him and too much of a coward to do anything about it, so I—"
"Do not psychoanalyze me, Tony Stark!"
Tony threw his hands up. "Okay, first of all, psychoanalysis is literally your job—"
"Second of all," Charles seethed, "what if I didn’t want to go out with Erik?!"
Tony arched an eyebrow, then he slowly smirked. "Then I'd call you a liar."
Charles' eye twitched so hard he thought he might spontaneously combust. Tony—sensing he was seconds away from being physically launched into the sun—decided now was a good time to backpedal.
"Okay, okay," he said, hands up in surrender. "Maybe I technically should have asked you first—"
"Technically?!"
"—but come on, Tinkerbell, he literally just took the bet because he wanted an excuse to ask you out—" Charles froze. Tony grinned. "Ohhhhhh. You didn’t know that, huh?"
Charles opened and closed his mouth, betrayed by his own brain.
Tony clapped him on the shoulder. "You’re welcome, by the way—"
Charles slapped his hand away. "No. No, you do not get to act like this was some grand romantic gesture—"
"It kinda was—"
"—you are an actual menace, and I should have let you get arrested for that dining hall incident."
"Wow, rude—"
"Do not speak to me. Do not even look at me. I am removing you from my will!"
"You don’t even have a will—"
"I am writing one tonight just to remove you from it!"
And then, Charles walked away.
***
Tony had never gone this long without Charles.
At first, he thought, Okay, he’ll cool off in a day or two.
But then a week passed. And then two. And Charles still refused to speak to him.
And Tony, for the first time in his entire life, started to think, did I actually go too far this time?
Charles liked to think of himself as the reasonable one in their friendship. This was a lie. Because when Charles lost his temper, he went for the jugular—and this time, he cut too deep.
Tony lied all the time. Most of the time, it was harmless. A little exaggeration here, a technically illegal experiment there—whatever. Charles was used to it.
But this time, Tony lied about something that actually mattered. Something dangerous.
Charles found out by accident, in the worst way possible. It was midnight, and he had gone to the engineering lab to borrow a book from one of Tony’s classmates. What he did not expect was to find a very stressed-out lab assistant freaking out over the fact that Tony Stark had been hospitalized earlier that day.
Charles froze. "I’m sorry—what?"
The lab assistant looked up, startled. "Oh—uh—yeah. He passed out in the lab this morning. They said it was ‘exhaustion,’ but honestly, the guy looks like he hasn’t slept in a month."
Charles felt his blood pressure skyrocket.
Because Tony hadn’t told him. Because Tony had nearly worked himself into an actual coma, and instead of calling Charles, instead of asking for help, he had hidden it.
So Charles marched straight to Tony’s apartment. And then he banged on the door like he was here to commit murder.
Tony, looking like he was barely functioning, opened it. "Tinkerbell?"
Charles shoved past him into the room. "Don't ‘Tinkerbell’ me right now, Stark."
Tony sighed. "Oh, great. You found out."
"Yes, I found out!" Charles snapped. "You nearly collapsed from exhaustion, and you weren’t even going to tell me?!"
Tony rubbed his eyes, clearly not up for this fight. "It wasn’t a big deal—"
"Not a big deal?!"
"Charles—"
"Do you even hear yourself right now?"
"I had it handled—"
"No, you didn't!" Charles yelled, furious now. "You never ‘have it handled,’ Tony! You just push yourself until you break and then pretend like it’s fine!"
Tony crossed his arms. "Yeah? And why do you care so much?"
Charles stared at him.
Why do I care so much? BECAUSE YOU’RE MY BEST FRIEND, YOU COMPLETE AND UTTER MENACE. BECAUSE I CAN’T IMAGINE MY LIFE WITHOUT YOU IN IT.
But instead of saying that, instead of admitting what was really going on, Charles went for the kill shot.
"You know what your problem is, Tony?" Charles snapped, voice like a blade. "You think the world is always watching you, waiting for you to fail. News flash—no one actually cares. No one is expecting you to be some genius martyr, so maybe stop acting like one."
The silence was deafening. Charles knew the moment the words left his mouth that he had gone too far. Tony didn’t smirk this time. Didn’t roll his eyes, didn’t fire back a sarcastic remark. He just...looked at Charles. And something in his expression changed.
And that was when Charles realized. He had actually hurt him.
Then, quietly: "Wow, Tinkerbell."
And then, Tony walked out. And this time, he didn’t come back.
At first, Charles waited. Because Tony always came back, didn’t he?
But then a week passed. And then another. And still, nothing.
And that was when Charles realized, this time, Tony wasn’t coming back. Because this time, Charles had been the one to break something.
Erik had a lot of patience for Charles. Which was saying something, considering Charles was the single most emotionally incompetent person Erik had ever met. But even he had limits. And watching Charles sulk like a Victorian widow over Tony for the last few weeks had finally pushed him past them.
Charles had invited Erik to the campus café under the guise of a casual coffee date. But Erik, not being an idiot, immediately knew what this was actually about.
This was about Tony. Because Charles had spent the last fifteen minutes aggressively stirring his coffee while very much not talking about his recent fallout with Stark. Which was how Erik knew it was time to step in.
He sighed, leaned forward, and gave Charles a pointed look. "Charles."
Charles blinked innocently. "Yes?"
"Are you actually going to talk about what’s bothering you, or should I just start insulting Tony until you crack?"
Charles scowled. "That’s a horrible strategy."
"And yet it’s already working."
Charles groaned, finally giving up the act. "Fine." He set his spoon down and exhaled sharply. "Tony and I had a fight."
"Fork in kitchen," Erik said dryly. "Yes, I’m aware. The entire campus is aware. You two fought so dramatically it could have been a season finale."
Charles glared. "That is an exaggeration."
"Is it?" Erik raised an eyebrow. "Because I distinctly recall you yelling at him in a way that suggested you were either about to break up with him or declare your undying devotion. Still not sure which one, honestly."
Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. "It wasn’t like that."
"Wasn’t it?"
"No."
Erik sipped his coffee, unimpressed. "Then why are you acting like someone ran over your cat?"
Charles huffed in frustration. "Because he’s my best friend, and I hurt him."
"And?"
"And what?"
"And why is this bothering you so much?"
Charles threw his hands in the air. "Because I care about him, Erik!"
Erik nodded, like he’d just confirmed a theory. "Good. You finally said it."
Charles stared at him. "What?"
Erik smirked. "You care about him."
"Of course, I do."
"More than anyone else."
Charles scoffed. "Don’t be ridiculous."
Erik arched an eyebrow. "Name one person you care about more than Stark."
Charles opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. And froze.
Because oh.
Oh.
Because the answer wasn’t Erik, or Raven, or anyone else in his life. The answer was Tony.
Erik tilted his head, watching realization hit Charles like a truck. "There it is."
Charles blinked rapidly, looking away. "I—"
"You," Erik cut in smoothly, "are completely in love with Tony, and you just realized it in real time, didn’t you?"
Charles, who had just suffered the worst emotional ambush of his life, hid behind his coffee cup. "I hate you."
Erik grinned. "No, you don’t."
Charles groaned. "This is horrible."
"For you? Maybe."
"This changes nothing."
"It changes everything."
"I refuse to discuss this further."
"You’re still talking about it."
Charles wanted to sink into the floor and die.
Erik, thoroughly pleased with himself, sipped his coffee and enjoyed the moment.
"Admit it," Erik said smugly. "Tony Stark is your platonic soulmate."
Charles groaned, dragging a hand over his face. "That is the single most insufferable thing you have ever said to me."
"But is it wrong?"
Charles hesitated. Erik smirked victoriously. "Didn’t think so."
And that was how Charles finally admitted the truth. Now he just had to figure out how to fix things with Tony before it was too late.
It took three weeks, one very irate Erik Lehnsherr, and Charles nearly losing his mind before he caved.
Because Tony had disappeared.
Oh, he was still going to class. Still showing up to labs. But he wasn’t talking to Charles. No texts. No late-night chaos. No Hey, Tinkerbell, I just built something probably illegal—want to see?
Nothing. And Charles hated it.
So, after suffering in silence, he stormed into Tony’s lab at 3 AM, uninvited. Tony, startled, looked up from his workbench. "Charles?"
Charles glared at him. "You are an absolute nightmare to track down, you know that?"
Tony blinked. "Uh. You found me in my lab. Not exactly ‘nightmare to track down’ material."
"Not the point."
Tony leaned back in his chair. "Then what is the point?"
Charles exhaled sharply. "I was an idiot."
Tony arched an eyebrow. "Go on."
Charles groaned. "I should have never said what I did. That wasn’t—it wasn’t true. People do care. I care. You just—" He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "You scare the hell out of me when you do this, Tony. When you burn yourself out like you don’t think you matter."
Tony studied him for a long moment.
Then, quietly: "So, you’re admitting I was right?"
Charles glared. "I’m admitting you were slightly less wrong than usual."
Tony smirked. "I’ll take it."
And just like that, they were fine again.
(And yes, Charles was absolutely going to make sure Tony actually slept now.)
(And yes, Erik was going to have some thoughts about Charles breaking into a private lab at 3 AM for his best friend.)
But that was a problem for another day.