Really edited. Almost entirely a different animal. Decided to make it into a vignette sort of story. Little things that sort of all go together. Go ahead and read. And hopefully review.

Please

The word is said a lot. Probably not too much. Considering there really is no limit on being polite, he can get away with the overwhelming pleasantries. Nobody really monitors these things anyway, right?

Charles says please too much.

He has passed the line. And somebody does monitor, or at least keeps a rough tally. If he says it one more time, there's a risk for a please induced seizure. Or at least a good throttling.

"Why you always begging for things?" Begging is a dirty word.

"It's not the same thing, Erik."

Please, pass the butter. Please, just do your homework. Please, can you send me your notes. Please, can I have my book back by the end of the day. Please, Raven your shirt is a little too short. Please, don't take this the wrong way. Please, don't use that tone. Please, don't think of me that way. For god sake, please-

It's not even a word anymore. Just an OCd fueled reaction, and ornamental phrase added for some prismatic color.

"You're a beggar. Just as bad as asking for handouts. You plead like a dog."

"I was just asking for you to pass the kettle. Erik, pl-"

Erik moves the kettle far away from Charles, a loud screeching noise vibrating though the air, petered iron against expensive marble. A silence soon follows. Eyebrows cock. "Don't say it."

It was a command.

But his mouth starts to move anyway, "Erik, this is ridiculous. If you'd pl-"

"Don't you say it."

"There must be some miscommunication. Just let me explain, pl-"

"Don't you dare."

It was actually a dare, not a command.

"What if I do?"

Just a look. Deep-set eyes and a dramatic frown never looked quite so attractive to Charles, generally going for lighter features that generally appeared on women.

It was exciting. "I think I might."

"No, you won't. It's not in your nature." Eric pours himself all the hot water that had been waiting in the kettle for another. Brown wisps escaped from the wired tea at the bottom, swirling in a maroon pattern. "You will do as your told. It's easier."

"That's positively insulting. I think you are trying much to hard to pin me down. That's my job."

"Apparently not hard enough." Spoons, sugar, and milk are unneeded. He just likes that organic, dirty, plant taste. "You just think you're the only one who can read others. I think thats positively insulting to the rest of us."

"Are you angry with me?"

Charles looks disheveled. Hair out of place, shirt wrinkled, and shoes untied. If it wasn't so alarming, Erik might be turned on. "No."

"Is there something on your mind?"

Scrunching his brow, he feigns a thinking pose itching his chin. "Nothing particularly relevant."

"Well, keep on being difficult. See how it works out for you. And there's nothing wrong with being polite. It's not weakness, or submission."

"Say whatever you wish, for you it's a game. Considering you're the only man in the world who really doesn't have to beg, you could of stopped me at anytime." Erik finishes his tea, and places the cup gently into the sink. "But you don't. Your politeness is condescending. People should just be happy that you were courteous enough to ask, instead of force. Stop with the begging, and pleading."

"I don't know if you're complimenting or insulting me."

Erik grinned. "You haven't left."

"I'm betting on the compliment." Charles sighed, and refilled the kettle. "Some sort of reverse psychology infused compliment but hey, beggars can't be choosers. I didn't know that was popular in Germany, or Poland, or Sweden ,or any other country you've taken your commando nazi killing mission."

"Of course you'd take the positive answer."

"It's in my nature, heh?"

Erik brushed his hair back, and leaned against the counter. Watching the other man was a sport. "Born with you."

"Have you ever thought being raised a gentlemen is the reason I enjoy the P word?" He lights the burners, and places the kettle down. It was his favorite kettle as a child. Not because he some weird british kid with a thing for teapots, but because it looked cheap. So out of place in the estate. Don't take the cheap shot. Don't say what we both know you're thinking.

That's more like it, Charles. Demand. Erik smirked. "Let's try a crack at this nature versus nurture debate."

"What? Are you going to nurture the politeness out of me." The water bubbling makes a pleasant background noise.

"More like break you of the politeness."

"I'm more of a positive reinforcement sort of guy."

Erik chuckles deeply, and in a strange forced tone, playfully. Taken back, Charles feels like one of the rabbits from the cartoon version of Watership Down, completely

frightened at something that he'll never truly understand. "Oh, that will come later."

"Is that a promise?"

"No, more like a dare."

Charles asks, "how so?"

"You have to agree before I break you. And than you have to consent again before I reinforce it." The telepaths mouth felt try, and the water was taking way to long to boil.

"This seems a bit wonky. Why should I agree?"

"You like dares."

Yes, Charles likes dares.

"Mommy, please."

Charles remembers the feeling of those words on his lips almost as clearly as the smell of gin on the breath. He doesn't think its particularly sad either. She was happy, his mother. Deluded maybe, and always slightly inebriated, but happy.

And he also always remembers that she hated when he called her at night. Not because he was interrupting on of her parties, or that she would have to hear some tell about voices in his head. No, it was because she really felt sorry for the boy who could never fall asleep.

Her hand was always soft when she patted his cheek, and besides the way she would stagger, nothing seemed quite off with the picture. Cooing, she would play her fingers through his hair away from his face and say, "My poor baby, why don't you try to close your eyes again. I'm sure you'll be out like a light."

Charles would protest. But his mother was quite certain soon he'd be off counting sheep again. "No, I mean it Charlie. You need your rest. Schools tomorrow, and you have to do good to get into university."

And even than he knew, from the minds of adults around him, that he didn't need to do good, or even well, to get into any school in the country. They had money. He feigned sleep though, know how important it was to his mother. "Please, just go to sleep baby. Please, just close your eyes. You'll be there soon."

This one has to be neutral. Everybody appreciates being useful, and than appreciated in return. Americans have holiday based on the concept of being in a state of thankfulness for an entire day. It's a damn good holiday he must add, he loves that stuffing and ecpescially cranberry sauce. And together, man that stuff is groovy.

So, considering that everyone likes stuffing and cranberry sauce and maybe even stuffy family event, Charles replies with a strong and strangely defiant, "Thank you."

Dinner is interrupted. Heads turn. The kids at the mansion are use to Charles' chivalry, but not that strange loud booming voice that came from those red, red lips. The only one who doesn't look is Erik. A repeat. "Thank you, Erik, for passing the peas."

It's awkward. Raven makes it more awkward. "I just bought three ounces of weed."

"That's nice." Charles take a large spoonful of peas and dumps them on his plate. "Thanks again, for the peas, Erik. Now can you please pass the butter."

The butter is thrown across the table.

"I had a wonderful day Charles. There was group sex with the boys, followed by a shopping spree in the Bronx where a bought a lovely used car with only one blood stand, and two semen stains." No response, so Raven clears her throat. "And did a sheet of acid."

"Admirable, my dear girl, admirable." Not all the peas make it to his mouth. "Erik, are you, perhaps, the devil?"

Sean snorted. So did Alex. Hank never looked up from his book. This was turning out to be the best forced dinner at the Xavier household.

"Not to my knowledge." Erik plate was clear, but Charles had voiced clear opposition to people leaving the table before everyone was ready. Went against some strange code of properity that lingered on from the fifties. And the kids were watching. Can't go against a man's wishes when his kids are watching, and even his respects that. Doesn't mean he'll ask to be excused. Waiting seems like a better option. "Why?"

"Curiosity. Maybe just for the shock value. The reaction. Or maybe, in fact, I really do believe that you have a tail hidden in those jeans of yours."

"God, stop it, or I'm going to vomit. If I wanted to see to homos flirt I'd be listening to Simone and Garfunkel." Alex stood up, gripping his plates in both hand. "Oh, and can I be excused?"

"Of course." Charles said nonchalantly. "Why you're up could you do the dishes. The maid took the night off. Apparently cleaning up for my summer classes for isn't her cup of tea. 'A pack of wild animals' she says, 'especially the blue, hairy one, never washes after himself like a beast.'"

"Sounds like a insightful woman." Erik says, still refusing to excuse himself.

"Why, thank you, Erik. I only hire the best help." He helped himself to some more peas. "Oh, and you can be excused as well Hank. And Raven."

If Charles hadn't been across the table, Erik is sure he would of physically assaulted him. Or pulled that polo over his smug face, and proceed to strip himself. Either, or. "Charles, after dinner you really need to meet-"

"You know, Professor, if you keep eating all those peas your pee is going to be green." Sean said from the other side of the table.

"Haven't you've been excused." Erik almost barks.

Sean laughs, "No, unlike the others, I think family dinners are pretty rad."

End

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