A/N: Here's a little thing I wrote. Actually it's not that little, it's the longest thing I've ever written. That's why it's in chapters (and also to up the suspense a little), but there's probably only gonna be two, or three at the most. Or maybe I'll just shove em all together and you can scroll down forever. Wait, no. I won't do that to your poor fingers. Two chapters.
Basically, Charles gets ill and Erik is a mother hen. Inspired by Philote's lovely 'Just Rory'. Hope you like :D
English notes: I assume you all know what paracetamol is (look it up if you don't) but I think Calpol is not as universally recognised (don't read this part if you know it). It's a children's ibruprofen medicine that tastes disgusting (to me, at least). Seriously. It tastes like someone just upturned a huge vat of sugar into it, and you can feel all the granules crunching between your teeth. Even the sugar-free variety. Not nice. So now you know.

Sniff.
Erik slowly opens one eye, looks around the room, then closes it again, sinking back into the warm embrace of sleep. It doesn't last long.
Sniff. Sniff.
The eye cracks open again, a little more agitated this time. What is that infernal noise? Did one of the kids adopt a pet without telling him? No, he hasn't noticed any suspicious behaviour. So what is it?
Sniff. Sniff.
Very close. Erik looks down at the sleeping figure curled up in his arms. Surely it can't be -
"Ah - CHOO!"
Erik jumps in alarm, thoroughly flabbergasted. How could such a big noise have emanated from such a little person?
"Not little," Charles grumbles sleepily. "You're jus' behemoff-y."
Erik chuckles softly and kisses Charles's forehead. "I'm not sure that's a word, Mäuschen."
"To be honest, this early in the morning I don't really care." Charles yawns widely (looking almost identical to a dormouse, thinks Erik) and sniffs.
Wait. Sniffs?
So he's the one who woke Erik up.
"I'm afraid so. I appear to have a case of the sniffles." In an instant Erik is up, kneeling on the bed, and pressing the palm of his hand to Charles's forehead. "Erik, I'm fine, it's just a cold - "

"A cold? Or flu? It feels like you have a temperature. Does your head hurt? Nausea? Sore throat? Cough? It could be meningitis - "
Charles halts the flood with a finger on Erik's lips. "Yes, it Is a cold, yes, I do feel a bit hot - " Erik raises his eyebrows and Charles glares at him " - yes, it aches a little, no, no, no, and most certainly no."
"So it is flu!"
"No, it's probably just a headache. I'll take some paracetamol and be right as rain by the time class starts."
"Class? Oh no, you're not going anywhere."
"But I'm giving lecture - "
"No buts. Your students will just have to have the day off. You certainly are." Charles swings his legs over the side of the bed in defiance of this statement.

"But –"
"No."

"I'm going whether you like it or not. Pass me my cane." the words fall out of Charles's mouth automatically before he realises his mistake. Erik smirks as the implement in question lifts off the floor at the foot of the bed and floats gently into his outstretched hand. Charles makes a desperate leap for it, but Erik just holds it above his head, safely beyond his reach. "That is mean."
"Being "behemoth-y" has its uses."
"It won't work. I can still hobble." Charles pushes up off the bed and starts doing just that. Or, rather, attempts to. His bad leg falters on the first step, but luckily Erik is there to catch him. Unluckily, he picks him up bodily (how undignified, thinks Charles) and puts him right back into bed. Erik grins as he tucks the duvet in. "You were saying?" Charles grumbles under his breath (something about "effing arrogant metal-benders"), but settles down all the same. Erik goes to get him some pills and a glass of water from the bathroom. When he returns, Charles is propped up on a mountain of pillows reading a thick book.
"What's that?" he asks as he sets the glass and pills down on the bedside table.
"On the Origin of Species. I always read it when I'm bedridden."
Erik snorts. "I'm sure it's thrilling."
Charles raises an eyebrow. "It's a lot more intellectually stimulating than some of the books you read."

"Hey! I read intellectual stuff. I read that really old one about that orphan the other day."
"As I recall, you haven't picked up Jane Eyre since Thursday."
"Only because it was getting boring. That Rochester guy was a complete wimp. I mean, come on! He should've just killed the crazy lady when she turned crazy. That way he could've married the girl - "
"Erik."
"Yes, dear?"
"Shut up. I'm trying to sleep. And you're supposed to be taking a class in twenty minutes."
"Good point." Erik jumps off the bed and dashes around the room like a headless chicken, grabbing clothes and books and shoes and keys before bending down to give Charles a goodbye kiss and sprinting out of the door.

A/N: So there you have it. Chapter 1, at least. Chapter 2 will probably be up tomorrow, or Thursday at the very very latest. Promise. Thanks for reading and please review :)