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"You know, it's at times like this where I think maybe we need more adults in this house." Charles said to the closed metal door. The door did not reply, not that Charles had really expected it to. Doors were not known for being great conversationalists. Nevertheless he continued, undaunted. "I enjoy having the children, of course, but I can't help but wonder whether, if there were more adults living here, I might not notice when you're avoiding me."
It took a few moments, but this time Charles got a response. "I'm just working on something right now."
The door, however, remained steadfastly closed.
"That sounds marvellous, I'd love to see it."
"It's not done yet."
"Maybe I can help with it."
"It's very complicated."
"I may not be the smartest person in the building, but I did once upon a time complete a PhD in genetics. I'm not completely ignorant."
"That's not... I didn't mean... It's just... Complicated."
Charles sighed, loudly. "Hank, I would very much appreciate it if you would unlock the door. I feel entirely foolish sitting out here talking to you this way."
There were a few seconds when Charles thought that just maybe the door would remain shut, but he was pleasantly surprised. The door rolled to the side to reveal Hank facing away from him at his workbench, doing his absolute utmost to look engaged in his work. Mostly though, he just looked hunched and nervous.
"Lovely, thank you." Charles said, irony self-evident as he wheeled down the ramp and into the shiny laboratory space. "Now, what is it that you are working on so diligently that you could not bear to be distracted from it for three days?"
"I wasn't avoiding you." Hank mumbled.
"Yes you were." Charles chided gently. "If you had your way I'm quite certain you still would be. But that's alright. You are allowed to have alone time if you need it. You need only ask."
"In that case, I think I need some alone time." Hank replied immediately, glancing over at Charles with a half quirk of his lip and a hint of exhausted humour in his eyes.
Charles played along, sharing his own hint of a smile. "Oh, well of course. I'll just leave you to it then." Charles spun about on his wheels, making as though to steer away.
"Wait, really?" Hank asked, eyes momentarily wide with confusion. "That's..."
"No Hank, not really." Charles interrupted with a chuckle, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head at his friend in mock exasperation. "We haven't seen you for days, I think that's more than enough alone time. And while I do my best not to pry, you've been so anxious that I could feel it all the way out at the green house. You're not absorbed in some fascinating experiment, you're hiding because you're upset. I'd like to think that after all this time you'd trust me at least to talk to me, rather than locking yourself away in the basement."
"The lab is hardly a basement." Hank argued half-heartedly.
"And yet here we are, in a room underneath the house, in a room with no windows or natural light to speak of." Charles teased.
Hank sighed. "I wasn't trying to avoid you, specifically. It's complicated. And embarassing. I'm sorry, I promise I'll stop... hiding in the basement." He made a sound that was probably meant to be a chuckle. It didn't quite make it.
Charles leaned back in his chair, pursing his lips and tapping his fingertips together.
"Did I ever tell you about when my powers first manifested?"
Hank blinked, and tilted his head to the side. Still not exactly overwhelming amounnts of eye contact, but Charles counted it as progress.
"I had just turned ten. My family thought I had gone quite insane. My mother even spoke about having me committed to an asylum. Fortunately I was smart enough to figure out how to act... normally, I suppose. And if I failed too badly I could always edit my mistakes from memory.
"Even so, it's roughly impossible to retain childish innocence when you can hear what everyone around you is thinking. At nine, I had imagined adults spent most of their time thinking about responsible things like banking and wars and cleaning things. You know the sort. But as it turns out, adults actually spend rather a lot of time thinking about sex."
Charles had to stop for a moment to cover his amusement as Hank started blushing furiously a few seconds before he had even said the word. Charles may have lost any such innocence decades ago, but Hank had somehow clung to it well past the appropriate age. It was oddly endearing.
"They think about having it, and about how to have more of it, and about who they'd like to be having it with." Charles continued. "And since then, I've had a couple of decades of hearing other people's thoughts, so I have quite a lot of experience in spotting someone who is thinking about sex. Especially when that someone is thinking about sex with me."
Hank looked mortified, making Charles feel momentarily guilty. But only for the briefest of moments, given how deliberately he had been trying to attract Hank's eye, and how painfully oblivious Hank had been of the attempt.
Charles leaned in, skirting the edges of Hank's personal space and letting the pitch of his voice drop just a little, to that place that seemed to make young men and women melt just a little. "Sometimes I can even tell without using my powers. What I can't always be sure of is why they don't act on it."
Hank leaned in over his paper in a weak attempt to reclaim some of that personal space. His hand was actually shaking with nerves. It was adorable, in a frustrating kind of way.
Charles leaned back. "Is it because you used to fancy my sister?"
Hank dropped his pen. It clattered on the tile floor and rolled away under one of the bookshelves laden with scientific equipment. If it were possible, he looked even more shocked and mortified than he had a few moments ago.
"I, that's not, no, I mean..."
Charles pressed his fingers to his lips to stop himself from laughing at Hank's horrified expression. "Ah. I just made the situtation worse, didn't I? I'm terribly sorry Hank, that's not at all what I intended."
Hank took a deep breath, tilting his head back until he was looking at the ceiling. "It's just a really bad idea. I mean, I'm kind of unofficially your primary medical carer. And we're supposed to be building a school... Not, you know..."
Charles nodded that yes, he did indeed know.
"And I'm... like this. And..."
Finally the missing piece fell into place for Charles, and he felt a flush of sympathy for the younger man. "And... We're both men." Charles finished for him. Hank pressed his lips together and nodded very slightly.
"You were raised Catholic, weren't you Hank?" Another small nod. Hank was practically vibrating with tension at this point. Charles thought about putting a hand on Hank's shoulder to try and calm it, but given the current subject matter he decided against it. Instead, he rolled up to the work bench, sitting parallel to Hank and matching his pose. He addressed the same spot of roof that they were both now facing.
"Do you know what else I learned in those decades of hearing other people think about sex?" He prompted, gently. "All those stories about there being a 'normal', with a man and a woman and baby makes three? They're stories, and for a lot of people they're true stories, that's genuinely what they want to be happy. But there are an awful lot of people who want something else. An awful lot of people, Hank. They're not interested in hurting people, or... sinning. They just love differently. The tragedy though, is that they're so afraid to take it, to be 'abnormal', that they spend their lives being unhappy instead.
"I'm not particularly religious, Hank, but if there is a God who created us, then I can't imagine he would be so cruel as to deny happiness to a person as wonderful, kind and caring as you. Of course I will absolutely respect whatever you feel is right, but I can't bear the thought of you spending your life being unhappy, Hank. Not over something so simple, and so easily resolved."
Hank pressed his lips together, then, "I don't... disagree, exactly. It's just that it's... complicated."
"Yes," Charles acquiesced gently, leaning in just a little as a gesture of support, "I imagine it is that."
There was silence then. It felt like hours, but was probably only minutes. Then Hank dropped his gaze back to his balled up fists on the surface of the bench, and admitted, "I don't even know how it would work. With two men."
Charles reached over a hand, resting it on top of Hank's fist and gently rubbing with his thumb. "I'm not sure I entirely know how it would work for me either, Hank. I haven't been intimate with anyone since before Cuba. I'm not even certain I'm still capable, given my injury."
Hank perked up a little at that, bless him. "Actually, the medical literature certainly suggests that it's possible for people with spinal injuries to enjoy intimacy with partners," he offered, ever prepared for even the slightest hint of a question about medical matters. "Sometimes that takes a different form to what you might have been used to. I'm sure I could find some information about it for you."
Charles couldn't help it. He beamed. "Then it appears we have an arrangement. You can help me to understand how things work as a paraplegic, and I can help you to understand how things work between two men."
Hank opened his mouth, blinked, then shut his mouth again. He looked terribly confused. Charles' smile returned to a more gentle and friendly one.
"I'm going to head upstairs now, Hank. If you still want some alone time, then that's fine, but please come up for dinner." Charles waited for Hank to nod before continuing. "And after dinner, I'm going to head to my bedroom. You are more than welcome to join me. We can talk, we can play chess for a couple of hours. We could even engage in other activities, if that's what you want. Whatever you want, as long as it makes you happy."
Then, true to his word, Charles wheeled back from the table a few feet, ready to return upstairs. He'd not quite made it half way to the ramp when Hank spoke.
"Chess has never really been my game." Hank's words were quiet, uncertain.
Charles nodded. "Of course. I understand."
"No, I mean... It might take me a while to... really come to terms with the rules."
Without looking back, Charles smiled once more. "It's ever so lucky that we live in a school, then, wouldn't you say? A perfect place to learn."
Hank sighed a quiet little sigh, still a little exhausted, but not sad or dejected as before.
"Yes," he replied after a few moments, and while the overwhelming sense of anxiety had reduced, there was a hint of hope in there as well. "Yes, I suppose so."