Xmen: First Class
Hysteria
"As she laughed I was aware of becoming involved
in her laughter and being part of it, until her
teeth were only accidental stars with a talent..."
Sometimes, when the day was particularly slow and the students were off doing the things youth could afford, Charles closed his eyes to indulge in images and memories. Forgetting that he couldn't just walk up and leave, forgetting that he had responsibilities, and mostly forgetting that he had a principle to uphold. He'd let his mind wander to his face.
But he'll be responsibility with even that. Only let himself remember, recall him. Never letting it get to the stages of what-ifs, if-onlys, and, the ever dreaded, maybes.
Others could be allowed their weakness, Charles understood. People needed those moments of withdrawal and denial. But he also knew he wasn't exactly under the same pressures as most.
It usual stopped there. A wink of retrieval from the reality of the situation. A teasing minute in his deep hearts core.
Tonight was different though.
Wasn't even a particularly grueling day. No student with a family dilemma, nor a young teacher with moral crisis. Charles hadn't even dressed himself in his alternate identity, Professor X. Christmas holidays encompassed his campus in snow, and idle cheer.
He had once explained to Raven when they were very young on how he recalled memories and dreams, she had assured him that 'normal' people did not share his experience.
Most remembered things as if a thin patina had formed veiling the finer moments, and kept only pieces of the whole. Memories were distant and vague for the majority of society, human and mutant alike. None could relive the way Charles could. His own, and when he experienced others, were defined and encompassing. For Charles it could be described in no other way as reliving. As a child he thought that was quite sad that others could not recall experiences with his clarity. But now he wished he could be distanced from everything, but the immediate.
Perspective never came naturally for him. And now he feigned it constantly.
He was a good lair.
Hank wasn't going to interrupt he reprieve, thinking that Charles was having a night full Yeats, Joyce, and Eliot. Poor boy would never fully appreciate modernist poets, to Charles dismay, and certainly found no joy in his private lectures. Did not work well with his dominantly left brained sensibilities.
But no, his night would be filled with something that would leave a sore taste in Hank's mouth as well.
He sighed, and let go.
"You're not looking as," Erik stops to think of the word. It's endearing to Charles, as he tries to hide his moment of forgetfulness by drinking more than a mouthful of the dark german beer, "enthused as usual."
"Ah, my friend, you noticed," said Charles squinting from the sun reflecting on the white sand. Blocking the sun with his hand and lounging his way back into the beach chair, he admires his friend's quirky bathing suit. Just trunks, and white. The sixties were a real groovy time.
"Thought the sun would do you some good."
Charles couldn't say the same for his own getup, seeing as it was a white and red, striped onsie made for a man of larger build. It was his stepfathers, and seeing that swimming wasn't a major pastime, he could do with the vintage look. As well as the dust it had collected in a lost box in the basement. "Years of scholarship has left me with an aversion to the outdoors."
Braver and more energetic than Erik and himself, their young wards had set up a game of beachball. Hank stood very closely to Raven, maybe too familiar for Charles taste. But he wouldn't read his mind, even if it was just to know his intentions. Trust was important, especially to someone who could literally go without it.
Erik smirked. Seeming to enjoy watching the kids flirt and mingle. His nose scrunched and his lipped curled.
It was damn sexy.
"But you know what would do you, us, more good?"
Charles cocked his eyebrow, "Now what would that be?"
Come closer.
His breath tickled his ear, as Charles bent toward the other man's lawnchair to hear the breathy whisper. Exposing himself to the sun from the safe haven of the umbrella, it was well worth it. "Let's go back to the car."
"Oh." An indignant noise slipped out of Charles mouth. Not taken aback completely, his chest still felt hit. And than the laughter started. He must of made quite a silly face, cause now all of Erik's teeth could be seen. Much like a really happy shark. "Well, I suppose you taking back you offer, and you-"
"No. It's just your face," In between breaths, Erik patted his stomach. "I haven't laughed this much in a while."
And as Eric smiled, Charles found he had become involved in it, and soon he was part of that smile. "Well, piss off."
The chuckles grew louder.
"Fuck me." Charles was meet with a coy wink. "That's not what I meant. But my dear Eric, let's do that too."
Magneto ran a hand through his hair, sweat dampening it at the roots. The cool night air moved freely through the open motel window leaving him chilled, unlike the warm burn in his belly that the dream left.
No more sleep He feared more would follow.
No light either. He didn't deserve the luxury no, wanted the responsibilities of the day to awaken.
Should of wore his helmet.
He couldn't take anymore of these dreams. So real, so immediate, almost as if he was reliving the moment. The vulnerability and insecurity was even there. Would Charles reject him?
Ah, Charles, he was behind these dreams. Projecting his memories, either on accident or on purpose, it should not of mattered. It still happened.
But it did.
For if it was just uncontrollable, telepathic static, he wanted no part in these shared memories.
But if he had let him in. Oh, yes. Magneto could close his eyes, and partake on this on indulgence.
The world owed him a lot, this especially.
I plan on writing more xmen: first class fics. I just really loved the movie. review so i'm encouraged.