Well you're quiet, but your eyes
Are saying everything I need to know
I just might say it tonight
I just might tell you tonight
That I love you
And you should stay all my life
The dark panelling that decorated most of Charles' childhood home did not provide much comfort to it's new inhabitants, especially in the ever growing heat of the late summer. The younger trainees coped with the inhospitable heat in their own ways, usually marvelling at Darwin as he became cold blooded in the hot sunlight outside, or playing with Hank's various attempts at cooling the stuffy house effectively with oversized air ducts and fans. Raven found herself confined to the house for a week after attempting to shift herself a pair of wings to use to cool the others down, misjudging the size and weight of them and breaking the fireplace in the process.
Erik, however, quickly felt himself becoming cooped up in the hot mansion. Much to the amusement of the others, he could frequently be found sleeping on the flat, private roof to escape the claustrophobia of the dark room given to him by Charles, having easily moved a small camp bed up onto the gravelled top surface of the house. It was here that he lay quietly one dry August night, gazing at unfamiliar constellations and absentmindedly playing with a spring that had come loose from the thin mattress of the metal camp bed.
Erik? Where are you tonight?
Erik lifted his head lazily, a smile playing on his lips as the spring froze in mid air in front of him, feeling his friend's presence lightly settling on the edge of his thoughts, the barely there touch indicating that Charles must be either some distance away, or considerably tired. The roof, of course he thought, letting it drift through his mind and directing it towards the breached part of his consciousness. The spring abruptly started spinning again above his head as Charles broke the connection, taking Erik by surprise and forcing him to reach out a hand and physically catch it before it dropped onto his upturned face.
"Smooth, my friend" a voice behind him laughed, and he turned to see Charles struggling through the stiff iron door that led out onto the roof, wedged half in and half out of it. Erik smirked, and sat up to face him, lazing casually on the low bed.
"Mocking me like that Charles, anyone would think you didn't want any help with the door." He yawned loudly and falsely, and made to lie back around, keeping an eye turned towards the door to watch the scene. "I think I might just leave you to struggle there all night."
A loud grating noise of the metal door grinding against the flagstone floor ripped through the serene night air, and Erik braced himself on the tiny bed, concentrating on steadying the thin metal legs as Charles flopped down heavily beside him, clearly trying to tip it over.
"And who exactly says I need your help?" He shot back childishly, sounding much more like Raven than his usual composed self. He even looked less composed than usual, Erik noted, taking in his dishevelled hair and the light sheen of sweat on his brow that was visible in the moonlight. He raised an eyebrow at Charles, who rolled his eyes, noticing the examination.
"I was downstairs with Alex. This damn heat wave is making the bunker into an oven, so we're trying to practice in the old servants quarters. Not my greatest idea ever," he sighed, stretching out his legs to rub the tired muscles. "You will be able to help us repair the inside of the chimney in the morning, won't you? It's very old and one of the main flues, and Alex just cut right through it, not a care in the world of course. That boy has me exhausted, I mean I know he's trying, but the heat's making him so tired…"
As Charles reeled off a progress report worthy of any teacher, Erik found himself drifting away from the actual conversation in order to just enjoy the sound of the other man's voice. The low, rolling voice calmed him in a way he had never known possible until recently; the only thing that came anywhere near it was the serenity he felt sometimes while using his power. Charles was so enthusiastic about the young mutants, he often placed far more trust in them than they deserved, Erik thought secretly, and for some reason it was him that he chose to relay all the tales of their progress to. Or, as it often had been lately in the distracting approach of summer, their lack thereof.
They had grown into a comfortable routine in the last few weeks, each working on their own projects during the day, then regrouping at night to talk about their days over chess or stargazing, depending on whereabouts Erik was sleeping. And since Charles usually had far more to say, Erik could easily sit back and listen, conveniently choosing to ignore the fact that he often found himself at a loss when it came to what to reply to Charles' eager questions. Ignoring the way that his friend's enthusiasm had slowly become endearing to him, rather than irritating, and the way he always preferred talking outside on the tiny bed rather than in the stuffy library on straight-backed chairs, and very pointedly ignoring that annoying voice in the back of his head that said he should be talking to Charles about these exact things, rather than pushing it all away. That voice always managed to sound like Charles somehow.
You haven't heard a word I've been saying, have you? Erik started, as the voice in the back of his head suddenly became a lot louder and more sure of itself. He looked up at Charles, who was looking at him with an expression halfway between annoyance and amusement. Sorry, he thought back, shrugging his shoulders; I suppose I'm tired as well.
No, Charles sent through, furrowing his brow in concentration as he looked down from the stars to stare into the older man's eyes. You've been… quiet, Erik. The only way to get your attention is talking to you like this, and even then it feels like you're holding something back. He swung up his legs onto the bed to sit cross-legged, and broke the mental connection less abruptly than before, easing off slowly to give them both some time to adjust to it. Erik smiled softly, setting the spring spinning in the small space between them once again.
"I'm sorry, really. I suppose you could say I've had a lot on my mind." He cleared his throat nervously, suddenly very aware of how close Charles sat on the narrow bed frame, and cautiously reached out a hand to pat his friend's knee where he sat. Charles didn't draw back from the touch, probably realising that Erik was still unsure about human contact in general. "Try not to worry about me Charles," Erik continued, leaving his hand lying softly on the bed between them. "When I can figure out how to say it, you'll be the first to know, believe me."
Charles smiled understandingly in the dim moonlight, and nodded, casually arranging himself on the bed so their hands ghosted next to each other in between them. They lay in silence then, counting stars and straightening out the spring respectively, each lost in their own considerable thoughts. A thin cloud swam over the moon, plunging them into almost complete darkness, and Erik lowered the spring to the floor with a clatter.
You're sure, my friend?
I'm sure, Charles. Just, not tonight.
So. First ever foray into X-Men writing. Let me know if you liked it or hated it or if you think it should be killed with fire. The song 'Might Tell You Tonight' is by Scissor Sisters, from their album 'Ta-Dah' and I like it very much in case you hadn't noticed. No copyright infringement is intended, either towards Scissor Sisters or the X-Men franchise.