Charles Xavier sat stiffly on the hard green hospital chair listening to the continuous hustle and bustle of ward B6. The groans of the patients, the exasperated sighs of the nurses, and the steady beeps of heart monitors; none of that much bothered him. It was the smell that turned Charles' stomach and no matter how much disinfectant the cleaners used he could still smell it; death. Perhaps he was being a little over dramatic or his mind was playing tricks on him. He was a man of Science and he knew death didn't have a smell... at least not in modern society anyway where after death our bodies are preserved and he certainly hadn't read of any bodies decaying in NHS wards. It was the inevitability of death that bothered Charles about this particular ward.
"Charles?" The inevitable death of his Grandfather; a man riddled with cancer.
"I'm here." He whispered leaning forward to take the man's hand.
"When I'm gone..." Charles opened his mouth to protest but the old man raised a hand weakly. "When I'm gone I don't want you to be going over the 'what ifs'. I'm an old man, Charles; I've had a good life. You and your work have made me ever so proud; I know you're destined for greatness."
Charles just shook his head. His Grandfather gave him the same 'goodbye speech' every night the drugs made his days merge. This was a particularly lucid day, Charles had resigned to the fact that days like these would be few and far between.
"I want to see you settled, Charles. You've never brought anyone home." He wasn't sure how his grandfather would take the fact that he was gay and he wasn't willing to find out.
"I want to take you home, Granddad. Let me look after you in your own bed."
"No." The answer was firm and left no room for argument. "Go Charles. Have some fun tonight will you? Don't forget that you're not yet 25."
So Charles did as he was told and left the hospital that night before the end of visiting hours. It was raining. Not unusual for April in Oxford but Charles didn't drive. By the time he got under the bus shelter his bangs were dripping. The bus, of course, was late and terribly busy due to the bad weather. With a quick glance around the bus he weighed up his options; sit next to the homeless guy who smelt like a brewery or the boy with piercing grey eyes and light hair.
In the end it wasn't much of a choice at all.
"Do you mind?" Charles asked the boy motioning to the seat. The boy shook his head causing his wet hair to drip onto his shoulders. Charles smiled his thanks and took the seat making sure not to touch the boy.
"You where visiting the hospital?" The boys voice was deeper that he expected with a light European accent. When he had approached he wouldn't have taken him for much of a talker either.
"I was visiting my Grandfather, yes."
"Is it serious?" Abruptness was defiantly a European quality that no Englishman was found of.
"Terminal." The boy just nodded which was a relief. He was sick of hearing the insincere 'sorrys'. They where empathic if not sympathetic but they were just glad it wasn't one of their family members really. The bus stopped in the centre of Oxford and people piled out almost emptying the bus. Charles considered moving to another seat but that would have seemed rude.
"My name is Erik." Again with the abruptness.
"Charles."
"Where you heading, Charles?" There was a small smirk on the Erik's face and Charles could help but let the corners of his mouth turn up. "Perhaps you'd like some company?"
It wasn't the words that clued Charles into what Erik was but the suggestive hand that fell onto his thigh a little too high to be comfortable. Noticing that his stop was coming up he rang the bell having all the intention of removing Erik's hand from his leg and leaving the boy to the night. Then Charles saw it the angry red rope burn around the boy's wrist. God damn his conscious.
"Come on." Charles took Erik by the hand and led him off the bus.
Once the bus pulled off Charles let go of Erik's hand and took a long look at the boy. At a glance he looked like a perfectly normal boy but on closer inspection Charles noticed he was too thin and that his clothes were quite worn; a runaway perhaps?
"How much for the night?" He asked finally looking away from Erik.
"Hundred." Charles nodded and motioned for Erik to stop where he was while he made a quick stop at the cash machine. "Is your place close?" Grey eyes met his baby blue when he returned he began walking with Erik obediently following.
"I'm just around the corner." The two walked in silence until they reach Charles' town house. Erik stopped for a moment and looked up in awe at the house.
"This is where you live?" He asked as Charles unlocked the door.
"Yes with my Grandfather." Erik followed Charles into the red tiled entrance hall.
"The one at the hospital?"
"Yes he's the only..." Charles coughed uncomfortably not sure why he was divulging his life to a boy he'd only just meet but he was surprised to see understanding on Erik's face when he glanced back at him.
"He's the only family you have left." The grey eyes that Charles had first noticed about Erik locked with his again. Erik moved closer slowly and kissed him, a soft kiss, Charles was sure that it would have become more passionate if he hadn't have push him away. "No kissing then." The boy said not fazed by the rejection and began reaching for Charles' pants.
"No. Stop." Charles grabbed the boys hand firmly to get his message across and thankfully Erik took the hint backing off a few feet. Charles took the money from his pocket and held it out to him. "I am paying you tonight for your company. Nothing else."
"Nothing?" Erik asked after a moment and Charles shock his head as confirmation. "Are you straight?" He couldn't help but chuckle at that.
"I'm just lonely. I'd like to spend the night in someone's company." Erik nodded then taking the money from Charles.
"How shall we spend our night then?" Charles motioned for Erik to follow him into the lounge and offered him a seat preferring to stay standing himself.
"First I think we should eat."
"Do you want me to cook for you?" Charles had to smile again at the innocence of this particular prostitute. Not that he had had many dealings with prostitutes in the past.
"No. We'll order in. What do you prefer Indian or Italian?" He rummaged through one of the numerous junk draws in the living room until he found the take away menus.
"Either." Erik shrugged so Charles passed him both menus to choose from. "So, Charles, what do you suggest we do after we've eaten?"
"Do you know how to play chess?" Erik's face broke into a sinfully wicked smile at the mention of chess.
After the Italian had been demolished and plates clean up the unlikely pair adjourned to Charles' study to play chess. Erik was surprisingly good at the game and Charles was having 'fun' for the first time in months. The first time since his Grandfather had been diagnosed. He'd forgotten how much he needed companionship. Just having someone who he could sit with not worry about what they were thinking or being annoyed by them trying to 'cheer him up' constantly. Erik was the perfect companion, he was did sell himself so Charles doubted he was judging him, Charles also had a feeling that the boy had experienced loss himself recently. Checking the clock he realised that they had been playing silently for the past 20 minutes; there wasn't many people Charles felt comfortable silently with for so long. Who was this boy?
"How old are you?" Charles finally asked. It was something that had been bothering him all evening. How old was this boy who had no choice but to sell his body to random men.
"I'm 19. How old are you?" Erik asked not looking up from the chess board.
"24, but I'll be 25 in a few weeks." Erik nodded thoughtfully and then made his move.
"Do you not have any friends?" The grey eyes finally looked up from the chess board and he continued along with his blunt style of questioning. "Why would you have to pay for my company?"
"I have friends. Friends from university, friends I've met at work, but recently I've not been able to stand their company. I'm not sure why. I know some of them are probably worried about me but..."
"You don't want to spend time with them pretending that everything is ok." Charles couldn't help but frown that was the second time this evening that Erik had been able to finish a sentence for him. "You're sad."
Charles was sure that Erik hadn't meant it as a question though he felt the need to explain anyway. "I hate to think that people are giving me sympathy."
Erik didn't reply to that but took his move instead. "Check mate."
Charles scoffed he hadn't even noticed to move coming. He knocked his king over and looked up at a smirking Erik. "Where do you learn to play?"
"I was Chess Champion in Sixth Form." The boy replied with a shrug. "What now another game?"
"I don't think I'm much of a match for you, my friend." Charles checked the clock again realising it was past eleven. "I'd like it if you spent the night, Erik, I have a spare bedroom." Or three.
"If that's what you want. You've paid for my company tonight remember; I'll do whatever you like."
"I would like it very much if you stayed."
Charles showed him to one of the spare rooms on the third floor and excused himself to bring the boy some supplies. Grabbing a pair of his own pyjamas and a spare tooth brush he went to the airing cupboard to collect a wash cloth and towel so that Erik could shower or bathe if he wanted. He knocked on the bedroom door before entering and he found that the boy had already undressed down to his boxers and folded his clothes up on the chair.
"I've brought you some pyjamas if you want them I also brought a towel and wash cloth in case you wanted a bath in the morning. I have a spare tooth brush you can use too. Granddad always likes to make sure surprise overnight guests are quite comfortable."
"Thank you." Erik sat up to take the bundle of supplies from Charles. "You needn't have bothered yourself."
"Nonsense, it's only polite." Charles looked down and spotted the rope burn again noticing that he had a similarly angry looking one on his other wrist. He softly took Erik's hands and held them towards the light so he could better examine his wrists. "Do these hurt?"
"A little." Erik shrugged freeing his hands and turning towards the bed. When he turned his back Charles struggled to hold in a shocked breath. There were angry whip marks all down his back; Erik stood stock still clearly realising his mistake. "They're nothing. You shouldn't worry yourself." He nodded respecting the young man's wishes and left the room.
Charles Xavier had another sleepless night; though this time he was worrying about a boy who he knew almost nothing about.
Author Note:
Well I hope you have you like as I have been neglecting my HP stories for my sudden obsession with Charles and Erik.
Grandfathers Always Know Best was written for a prompt on Xmen First Kink to see the prompt you can visit xmen-firstkink . livejornal 8074 . html?thread = 17926794 # t17926794
Thanks for reading next chapter is just being edited.