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‘Sir,’ Erik says, ‘you need to come with me right away!’
‘I can’t,’ says blue-eyes in a posh British accent — really, nobody’s eyes should be that blue or that piercing even through thick glasses — not pausing in his frantic search.
Erik curses at people’s stupidity. To think that whatever they hold on to so dearly — money, pearls, documents, grandmother’s china, whatever they hold on to all their lives — is worth more than their goddam lives.
Once, a woman had refused to be rescued out of a burning building without her lunch box. A lunch box! Thankfully, the said lunch box had been metal and Erik had been able to fish it out from below the pile of her smoking furniture before rescuing her out of the house. People and their antics. And they call him the dramatic one!
Any other time, Erik would have gawked at blue-eyes’s swell ass that is put on display as he bends to look under a table, or the way the hem of his overly large jumper slips from his shoulder exposing his freckled skin, or the way it reaches his mid-thigh displaying his pale thighs, covering his boxer briefs and giving off the impression that the jumper is the only thing he’s wearing. He doesn’t do any of that now, because, one, Erik’s on duty, and two, they don’t have the fucking time. The only way into the small flat had been the narrow corridor, and even that is filled with smoke now, leaving the only window on the opposite wall as their point of exit.
‘Sir,’ Erik calls out again, injecting urgency into his tone, hoping that his voice will be carried through the barrier of his gas mask, ‘we really have to get going.’
‘I can’t!’ blue-eyes says again, turning on his heel to look at Erik. There’s a frantic look in his eyes and Erik wonders how much of it is because of smoke inhalation and how much of it is because of genuine despair over whatever blue-eyes isn’t finding. ‘I can’t leave without Matilda!’
Matilda? But Erik doesn’t remember the landlord of the building mentioning a second person in the flat when he’d given the list of the residents who needed to be rescued. Regardless of the number of people the landlord might or might not have mentioned, it’s Erik’s duty to save every one of them.
‘Okay,’ Erik says, moving closer to blue-eyes. ‘Where was she when the alarm went off?’
‘She was right here.’ Blue-eyes points at the settee and bends to look around it. ‘Matilda!’ He shouts into the small flat, cupping his hands around his mouth. ‘Where are you, darling?’
Any other time Erik would have wondered who Matilda is and how she’s related to blue-eyes — is she a relative? A sister? A girlfriend, perhaps? — or marvelled at how stupid blue-eyes is for looking for Matilda under tables and settees as if a fully grown human would even fit in there. But hey, in blue-eyes’s defence, people do stupid shit when they’re under stress.
But now, Erik does none of that, because, one, Erik’s on duty, and two, they don’t have the fucking time.
The metal rods holding up the ceiling are slowly losing their structural strength and the smoke rolling in from the open kitchen is reducing visibility and making breathing difficult.
‘Matilda!’ blue-eyes shouts again, and this time his voice wobbles with a hitch.
Spurred into action, Erik scans the small flat for all traces of metal — coins, buttons, hooks, clips, any form of metal that one would carry on their person — but comes up with nothing.
‘I’ll check there,’ Erik says, moving towards the closed door of the bathroom.
‘She isn’t there! I checked,’ blue-eyes says, distraught, stopping Erik in his tracks. ‘Besides, she hates water.’
That still doesn’t explain why a person wouldn’t think of hiding in the bathroom in case of a fire, but Erik drops the issue as this isn’t the right time to curse blue-eyes’s idiocy. Instead, Erik asks, ‘Do you know any other place she could be? A room, a storeroom or an alcove?’
Blue-eyes looks at Erik for a moment and shakes his head vehemently.
Sighing, Erik stretches out his hand and feels around the room with his senses once more. Though he doesn’t find anything to hint at the existence of a person, he realises with an ugly feeling in his gut that the iron rods holding up the ceiling have lost their structural integrity altogether. They have to move now, the ceiling can crash on their heads any minute. Erik can keep the ceiling from falling on them till they move out, but not for long.
‘Matilda,’ blue-eyes calls out again, ‘please come out, darling. I love you very much!’ Blue-eyes looks like he’s on the verge of crying now, and Erik’s heart shrinks a little in his chest, because if it comes to it, Erik has to pull blue-eyes out of the building with or without Matilda.
So in a last-ditch effort, Erik calls out, ‘Matilda.’
There’s no response for a few seconds, and then, Meow.
Meow?
As if on cue, a ginger cat crawls out slowly from behind a stout bookcase and moves towards blue-eyes.
Good grief, it’s a cat! Matilda is a cat!
‘Matilda!’ blue-eyes shrieks and falls to his knees, swooping to pick Matilda off the carpet and into his arms.
Erik sighs in relief — relief because they’ve found the cat or because Matilda isn’t blue-eyes’s girlfriend, Erik doesn’t know. Erik can’t think of any of that now because Erik’s on duty, and they don’t have the time. The ceiling can — and will —fall on their heads at any moment.
‘Sir, we have to move, now. We can’t go out of the main door because the corridor is filled with smoke, so we have to move out of the window and I’ll have to carry you. But don’t worry, I can levitate us—’ Erik stops, for blue-eyes isn’t even listening to him. He’s clutching Matilda to his chest and murmuring sweet nothings to the cat.
It’s Erik’s duty to declare his purpose before using his powers in the course of a rescue, but they don’t have the time for protocol now, dammit. Not with blue-eyes lost in another world with his cat.
Any other time, Erik would have been jealous of the cat, but now... well.
Erik walks over to where blue-eyes is crouching on the carpet and picks him up with one hand below his knee and the other supporting his back. Blue-eyes yelps in surprise but thankfully comes to his senses and loops one arm around Erik’s neck while he grips Matilda tightly against his chest with the other.
Melting the window frame, Erik creates an opening for them and levitates them safely to the ground.
‘You’re a mutant,’ blue-eyes beams as soon as Erik puts him down. ‘Oh, you have a marvellous mutation, my friend. Doesn’t he, Matilda?’ he asks, scratching the cat on its belly. ‘I owe you my life,’ he says to Erik more sincerely, straightening the glasses that have gone askew, ‘both our lives actually. Thank you very, very much.’
God, blue-eyes looks even more beautiful under the sun, lush hair tousled, barefooted and clad in nothing but an oversized dark blue jumper which puts his pale skin in stark contrast. And as if possible, his eyes look even bluer and brighter.
‘Just doing my duty, sir. You need not thank me.’ Erik shrugs nonchalantly, removing his gas mask and helmet. He’s not affected by blue-eyes. Absolutely not.
‘Oh, my,’ blue-eyes whispers, looking at Erik’s face, more to himself than to Erik, but Erik catches it anyway. His blue-eyes widen some more, and in a thick voice he all but purrs, ‘If I can’t thank you, then can I cook you dinner? Out of gratitude, of course.’
Erik’s stomach flips, but Az chooses that very moment — really, dammit, Az — to waltz in with his report.
‘Everyone has been rescued and reported for, Lieutenant. Angel and the team are on clean-up and damage control. We should be good to go in another hour.’
‘And what do we know about the source of the fire?’
‘According to Ororo, the source of the fire is a heavy-duty electric appliance — likely an oven — that short-circuited in that apartment.’ Erik cranes his neck as Az points to the same window he just descended from.
‘Oh, dear.’ Blue-eyes pales visibly, and in a faint voice says, ‘I was just trying to bake cookies for Matilda.’
‘Then maybe you shouldn’t be cooking that dinner after all,’ Erik says, and blue-eyes turns a very fetching shade of red.
Erik shouldn’t find the chagrin of a man who almost burnt down an entire building baking — no, trying to bake — endearing. But he does. Dammit, he does.
‘We’re done here for today, then. The reports can wait till morning. Wrap up and go home,’ Erik says, turning to Az, who nods and disappears in a cloud of black smoke and sulphur.
Confused by the loud cackle of smoke, Matilda mewls and burrows further against blue-eyes’s chest.
‘It’s fine,’ Erik says to blue-eyes. ‘It was an accident, and besides, no one was hurt.’
‘Oh,’ blue-eyes says, breathing in relief. ‘Thank you.’
‘We’ll try to salvage most of your belongings once the smoke goes down, but that won’t be until tomorrow. Do you have any place you could stay tonight? A relative’s place or a friend’s?’
Blue-eyes ponders the question for a moment before biting his lip and shaking his head.
Erik sighs. ‘I have a set of spare clothes in the van. You can have them. And you can stay at my place tonight.’
‘Oh, my. I wouldn’t want to trouble—’
‘It’s no trouble,’ Erik says firmly.
‘Oh, thank you so much, my friend.’ Blue-eyes beams and holds out a hand to Erik.
I’m Charles! says a voice into Erik’s head, warm and refreshing.
Erik scoffs. Blue-eyes — no, Charles — is a telepath then. A mutant!
All the better.
I’m Erik, Erik replies in kind, taking the proffered hand. ‘Come on, it’s time to go.’
Charles smiles as Erik turns and makes his way to the van. Behind him, Charles is murmuring to the cat, ‘We’re going to be alright in the good Lieutenant’s home, won’t we, darling? Of course, we will…’
Erik tunes out Charles and the cat, too distracted by the thought of Charles in his clothes and the dinner he’ll be cooking for Charles that night. He shouldn’t be doing this. He really shouldn’t.
Goddammit!
But he’s off duty now and has all the time in the world to cook Charles a lovely dinner.
A chicken marsala sounds good, doesn’t it?
_