Hello everyone !

Here is my second story written in English, betaed by the awesomes Flo'wTralala, Nauss, and Elizabeth Mary Holmes ! (Yes, three, that was entirely necessary !)

SanaShiya, this little nothing is for you, I wish you a fantastic birthday ! You are an awesome person and I really looooooooooooooooooooooove you !

I will publish this on AO3 too, my username is the same.

Have a nice time reading !

Nalou

He shouldn't have to do that. Hell, he shouldn't even be here. He doesn't belong. He hates it. He hates everything. He hates himself. But most of all, he hates all the students trudging up and down the corridors and sitting in the classrooms and sticking their gums under their desks and throwing their trash anywhere but in the trash-cans.

Seriously, if he had to work while the fucking kids were inside the building, he could kill anyone he would catch in the act of defacing. On the spot. With his bare hands. Not even bothering to use his abilities. They wouldn't deserve it. Really, he's not afraid to end up in prison. It was not as if they didn't know him there already.

But there he is. Sweeping the floors, scraping the dried gums and even things that are very much like bodily fluids (he doesn't want to know, he's glad he has gloves anyway), cleaning desks and windows and chalkboards and dried stains in the labs. Fuck those kids. They don't understand how lucky they are. How selfish they are, not caring about what people have been through to get them in College and wasting their opportunities to learn anything useful.

He never had such an opportunity. He would do anything to have one. But nobody wants him near their dear dainty students. Nobody wants him to have the career he's always dreamed of. All of this because of a stupid mistake, and suddenly he was the perfect scapegoat. His dreams of engineering and his freedom had been terminated the same day.

He tries hard not to complain... but it was not like someone was listening to him anyway. Still...the money he makes allow him to have food in his fridge and heating in his tiny apartment so he doesn't peep a word while hating deeply each and every student of that university and equally despising all the members of the staff. He is just the janitor, after all. Nobody cares about janitors. And they mind their own business, always the most important thing in their life: themselves.

Right now, he is polishing a professor's desk, and he really wonders what the man does with the furniture, because some stains are really weird. Humans are disgusting. He pulls on the rag he keeps in the back pocket of his jeans to wipe his hands on it. It will be enough for this one. As long as the man make no effort in tidying his desk, he won't do more. He already left a note for him once.

Next one. He opens the door, his cleaning trolley following him obediently thanks to his power. But the office is not empty, actually. The metal rattles in surprise as he takes the scene in. A man is seated behind the desk, pouring some tea in what seems to be a really old mug with a genuine ceramic teapot. What the fuck is he doing in here this late on a Friday night? Shouldn't he be out there, doing whatever a professor does on weekends?

"Oh, hello there" the man says, while carefully watching the stream of hot water, not wanting to spill any of it. "I'm sorry, please don't mind me, but I'm afraid I will bother you more than anything. Anyway, would you like a cup of tea ?"

As soon as he finishes his sentence, his mug is full and he puts the pot down. Then, he finally looks at Erik, and they both stop breathing for a handful of seconds.

The professor is the first to get back to his senses and speaks again, holding his hand above his desk for Erik to shake. "I'm Charles, nice to meet you."

Automatically, Erik grabs it. "Erik Lehnsherr. Don't bother with the tea."

"Oh really ? That's a shame, it's a marvelous blend."

Erik doesn't know if he should be annoyed or fascinated by the professor. So he busies himself with the floor, which seems clean but he gives it a sweep of the broom all the same, trying hard not to look at the blue eyes that were on him just a moment before. He doesn't even know if he's a human or a mutant. He can't trust him. He can't trust anyone, anyway. So he must do his job and get the hell out of here.

But the man sitting at his desk doesn't seem to see things the same way.

First, he makes what sounds like a moan of pleasure when he has his first sip of his tea. Then, he manages to drop a stack of papers he is grading, and he apologizes way too much for it. Erik can't stand to watch him drop to his knees on the space in front of the desk while he tries to reassemble the stack.

"I'm sorry, I'm so clumsy sometimes…" Charles says, and Erik sighs grumpily before joining him on the floor and helping him.

Really, what is he trying to do? Wasting his time?

"No, I swear, I didn't do it on purpose !" Charles nearly yelps.

Erik is struck. Did he say that out loud ? He doesn't think so. He can't be sure. Did he ?

"No, you didn't, actually. You just thought it really loudly, my friend." Charles is smiling, the soft curve of his lips a pleasure to the sight.

But… what the fuck ?

"How did…" Erik doesn't finish his sentence. He has his answer. Charles is a mutant. A telepath.

He barely has time to process the new information that Charles speaks again.

"Please, don't freak out, I stay as much out of people's heads as I can but sometimes I can't help but overhearing it when they think very loudly. I promise, I didn't rummage in your head."

Erik doesn't move, doesn't speak at first. He looks at Charles, a blank look on his face. It's only when he sees Charles flinching away, as if he were ready to take a blow, that he sighs.

"No. That's… All right, I guess. I'm a mutant myself. I won't hurt you."

Charles' relief is noticeable. He can see his body relax at once.

"I…" Charles hesitates, his eyes still on the papers on the ground. "Thank you. For understanding. That's not usually how people react when they discover my power."

"How do they react?" Erik can't help himself asking, curious.

Charles sits on the floor, his back against the desk, and sighs.

"Well, they usually yell and sometimes destroy what they can by throwing stuff at me, but that's not often but sometimes when they are human and discover that I am a mutant they… Sorry, I'm just rambling. Just… But some people are nice, too, and they are the ones I focus on. Just like you were. Sorry I know I speak too much, I promise I'll stop and…"

Erik grabs the mug on the desk and gives it to Charles.

"Just… drink your tea, and stop apologizing. You did nothing wrong."

He is clearly annoyed so he just gets up with the stack of paper in his hands, puts it back on the desk and goes back to his trolley to get the first thing he lands his hands on.

Charles stays obediently on the floor and sips some more of his tea, a light smile on his lips again.

Just five minutes later, he is back on his chair, focusing on grading his papers, and Erik has finished his cleaning. His eyes land on Charles once again, looking for something to say, but he comes up with nothing.

He goes to the door when he hears Charles once again.

"Have a nice evening, Erik. I'm glad I met you."

"You too, Charles." is the only thing he finds before closing the door and going back to his routine.

He does not think about vivid blue eyes for the remaining of his shift.

It takes a full week before Erik sees Charles again.

He is in a foul mood, because he had to fix and clean toilets, that thanks to a stupid student, had overflowed. The genius had thought that dumping all the trash in his bag in the toilet bowl would be a good idea. He even found a used condom. Great.

After that, he was received by a very bad joke written with a sharpie on the wall of one of the labs. It was even riddled with grammar mistakes. He doesn't know what angered him the most between the sharpie and the mistakes. If you do stupid things, at least, do it properly.

So when he opens the door to Charless' office, he barely contains himself to snap at the man for just being here, but the smile on Charles' face makes him falter a bit.

"Hello Erik, would you like some tea ? You look like you might need it. Tough day ?"

Erik doesn't know why, but he just sits on one of the chairs in front of the desk.

"I don't want to talk about it." is all he says when Charles gives him a cup of freshly brewed tea. Not that he doesn't want to talk to Charles, but thinking once again of what he saw won't make him feel any better, and Charles seems to understand that.

"All right," Charles says just before blowing on the steam coming up from his own mug. Erik can't stop but looking at his lips while he does so. "I'm glad you're here, actually. I needed a break from my grading."

It almost makes Erik smile.

"You don't need me as an excuse for that, Charles."

"No, that's true, but that's better when the distraction is so … mouth-watering."

This time, it's a smirk that almost break Erik's scowl.

"Are you throwing bad pickup lines at anyone who comes in here ?"

"Is it that bad ? I thought I was telling the truth." Charles' eyes are shining, "But no, not to everyone. Only to hot janitors who seem to have the brain with the whole gorgeous package."

Erik's brows shoot up at this, clearly taken aback, but Charles' smile is even more brighter.

"Yeah, you heard me, and I won't apologize for that, my friend."

"That was…" Erik is stunned into silence.

"Rather forward ?"

He nods once.

"Like I said, not sorry."

There's a companionable silence while they sip their now cooler tea, before Erik asks.

"So, grading. Is that as bad as it looks? I always wondered."

Charles laughs a bit.

"If by that you mean 'Do you feel the urge to slap your head on your desk every time you see that one of your student didn't listen at all and tried to bullshit you by writing as many words as they know?' then yeah, it is. But it's good to see them getting better, too. Tell me, Erik, don't you miss that ? I might have understood, seeing your age and what you do for a living, that you droped school early?"

Once again, Erik doesn't know how to react or what to say. He just stares at Charles for a while, his mouth slightly open and his cup of tea just under it, his motion stopped.

"How… No, don't answer that. I… I didn't choose to drop school, actually. They just wouldn't take me back after… Nevermind. I tried, mind you. I don't even know why I am telling you all this, it's nobody's business but mine. But I tried."

"You seem so… disenchanted. What happened ?"

Charles' features are crumpled with concern when Erik tears his eyes from his half-empty cup. He feels completely disarmed by the look on Charles pretty face.

"Well… I was held responsible for damages in the high school I used to go to, where the roof of the sport center collapsed onto students. There were some casualties. They knew about my power, and they immediately put the blame on me because I didn't like people. I never did anything to hurt anyone, but it didn't matter. They had made their choice. And I ended up in a youth center with meds all the way up to my brain and nobody to trust what I was saying. I was guilty for what I was, what I am. Even this job, I obtained it by the rehabilitation for ex-convicts program. I guess they forgot that what happened was in a school like this one…"

Erik keeps his eyes down for a while, ready to hear some horrible things he knows to be coming. But Charles doesn't say anything. Doesn't move. So, finally, he looks at him. And he is stunned by what he sees.

Charles' eyes are heavy with tears, ready to fall down his pale cheeks, as he stays silent.

Once again, Erik is astonished by his reaction. Once again, Charles proves that he is not like anybody else.

Erik's heart is crushed by the revelation, by the pain he endured for so many years, by finally telling it to an almost-stranger. He just wants to leave and never come back again. His life has ended that day, anyway.

He is half through the motion when he hears, a clear, bright voice in his head,

No, please, Erik, stay.

He doesn't know what to do. All his body his vibrating. Hell, even the metal in the room is rattling. He is a danger to other people. He shouldn't have been allowed out of the facility.

"That's utter bullshit." and the voice makes him jump. Charles is composed again, and he is now holding his hand over his desk, toward Erik. "When you talked, I've seen it. It wasn't your fault, and you know it. Don't let stupid people convince you otherwise. It's such a shame that they fear you, since the beginning. I can see how much control you have on your power. I know how it feels, never to let it go, to let it slip. I know. Let's figure this out together, shall we ?"

And without knowing why, Erik takes the offered hand in his.

They stay like this for a while, both lost in their minds, while Charles' thumb makes soothing motions on the back of his hand. he doesn't register it at first, being touched by someone else, but then he feels his body slowly giving in.

It takes a while for him to get his voice back, his words in check.

"You certainly have a way to charm people…" he says, playful. The mood lingers, but they both feel better, a bit relieved, to have made this connection between them.

Charles's cheeks turn pink, flushed. Erik enjoys the sight, while the telepath is at a loss for words, his red mouth opening and closing a few times before he gets himself straight.

"So…" he starts, a sheepish smile back on his face, "is it working ?"

And then Erik laughs.

"I'm not sure. It might. But I'm not totally convinced. Yet."

Two can play a game, he had learned, and it seems that it could go further, so he won't let it pass.

"Would you like to have dinner, with me? Now?"

"Now ? But, what about my work ? If I get fired, you won't be able to give me any more adorable pickup lines, you know."

"I was about to say that I don't care, but it's true, that would be really too bad if you weren't there anymore. How could I do it without you?"

"You know what, I'll go and do my business for half an hour, you do your grading, and we'll see afterwards. What do you think?"

"It pains me to let you leave, darling, but this is for the best. I'll catch you later…"

Erik sees him wink while he stands, and can't stop a smirk.

"Thanks for the tea, Professor Xavier."

Charles appears at the door of the last room just as he finishes cleaning the desk.

"Right on time, I see" Erik teases.

"The enjoyable part of being a psionic." Charles answers, leaning on the threshold. "You want to go now ?"

Erik's eyes do a once over on Charles' body, before looking at his.

"I'm not dressed up enough for a night out, don't you think ?"

"Well, I think you look just fine, but if you'd rather cook for us, I would never say no."

"I… Don't have anything in my fridge but… I was going to run some errands anyway so… why not? Do you like ginger?"

"I heard it's really good for blood flow, actually."

Erik is not entirely sure if he imagines the cheeky wink Charles gives him. Damn, how did he end up in this situation?

They end up in Erik's battered but still functional car, chatting comfortably while he drives to the next convenient store to buy what he needs to cook a nice dinner. It's been a long time since he really cooked, considering that when he is alone - which is everyday - he really doesn't want to bother with preparing a meal and washing the dishes. In the end, it's all about meager lunches and skipped dinners - when he is back from work late in the evening, he usually does not eat. It's fine with him. But not tonight. Tonight, he has the sense that he has to impress.

So, mentally calculating the costs, he picks a bottle of wine that seems fine by his standards.

But as soon as Charles sees what Erik has in his hand, he snatches the bottle and puts it firmly back on the shelf.

"Erik, I'm sorry, but if you take that bottle, I won't even follow you home."

"But…" Erik begins, but Charles cuts him, now a playful smile on his gorgeous lips.

"Trust me on this. Let me select one of the fine bottles I'm sure they keep somewhere else in here. At least, not that joke of a wine. Please."

His eyes are shining with expectation, as if he wanted to make Erik swoon with his bright puppy eyes.

Erik doesn't know how to tell him that he can't afford better. That this bottle already doesn't fit in his budget. He opens his mouth once, his eyes trailing near his feet. But, once again, before he has to say something embarrassing, Charles gets it.

"I'll buy it. I'm your guest, I invited myself more exactly, I can't even think about coming empty-handed ! Now, that's settled. Let's see what jewels they have, maybe something french?"

Erik wants to protest, but Charles has already made his way to another aisle, his stride much more eager than before. He nearly has to run to find him again, in front of a glassed cabinet full of Bordeaux and Côtes du Rhône.

"Charles, I… I can't let you do that, it's way too expensive !"

Charles looks at him, smiles again, as if he were gently mocking him and his daft attitude, and Erik hesitates between snapping at him and indulging him. He doesn't understand how he can feel such extreme feelings, but it seems that Charles triggers that in him. He doesn't know how to react. Damn this man.

Charles speaks again,

"I'm sure this dinner will deserve one of those bottles. Trust me, most of those wines are to die for."

Erik scowls for a bit before letting it go, his shoulders slumping.

"Fine, you crazy man. Do what you want."

"I certainly intend to."

Erik can't stop rolling his eyes at that - once again - bad pun, but smiles anyway.

"Just admit that you are a drunkard, Charles, it will be easier for you."

"Well, maybe? Who knows, we'll find out tonight, if you wish. Let's get someone here to open the cabinet, I can't wait to move to the more important part of the evening."

"You know you are insufferable, right?"

And Erik leaves him here, intending to fetch the food and get over with all this bullshit in the store. He'll have to find something to make Charles shut his mouth up. He won't say anything out loud, but he has a smile on his face, already eager for what is to come. He's sure Charles feels it anyway.

They finally get to his apartment, and suddenly Erik is ashamed of his belongings. Charles seems to be wealthy despite being a professor - he knows the paycheck is usually not nearly enough for training future generations, that's how the system works, although he's not sure paychecks at Columbia are that low, actually - but the man just looks with deep interest at everything he can lay his eyes on, as if this piece of furniture or that book were something precious. Erik puts the bags on the kitchen counter and starts to unpack. He then start to cook as Charles gets closer to him.

"Do you happen to have a decanter? The wine needs to be oxygenated before dinner if you want to feel all the delicate notes."

"Err… no?"

Once again, he is reminded of his lower status, not knowing how to drink expensive wine. He concentrates back on the stirring chicken in the pan, not wanting to show Charles the way he feels. He doesn't know how this could possibly end well, with all their differences. Charles is so much out of his league, nevermind what he says.

He doesn't feel Charles getting closer until his hand lands on his arm.

"That's all right. I'll just take your corkscrew, then, it will be fine."

Don't underestimate yourself so much, my friend, Charles' mind says right after. You are no less than anyone. That's not because your life is what it is that you are inferior.

Erik feels a wave of affection directly in his mind, slowly untying the knot that was clutching his stomach.

"You are amazing, Erik. You just can't feel it as much as I do, right now. Don't fear anything."

Erik's shoulders drop with some kind of relief, and Charles' hand moves from him arm to the hollow between his shoulder blades. He feels his fingertips slowly caressing the fabric of his shirt, distracting him enough to stop the rotating motion of the steel spoon in the pot. He keeps the control by calling the corkscrew to his hand and then gives it to Charles, who reluctantly leaves his side to get the bottle and open it.

"Thanks, Charles." is all he manages while he goes back to his task, a small smile playing on his lips.

He gets a pair of wine glasses (even if he doesn't have a decanter, at least, he has proper glasses) from the cupboard above the stove and sets the table with grey plates and cutlery.

Erik covers the pot to let the sauce imparting its flavor to the meat, ginger is simmering as Charles pours them wine. He gives a glass to Erik and afterwards he raises his own at eye-level, enjoying the color under the light before looking right through Erik.

"To a wonderful night with you, Erik."

"Night, already ?" Erik can't stop himself to ask. Charles never stops to unsettle him, always keeps him on the tip of his toes. Erik never had anyone like him in his relatives… Or to be fair, he never had such a thing as relatives.

He might want to have one, now. He likes Charles' playfulness, his ability to be serious when he needs to be. They only met twice but he feels that there is something more between them. He doesn't know what it is for sure, but for sure he knows there is something. Something that might progress into something else entirely.

As their glasses meet his heart starts to beat furiously, they sip the wine, still not breaking eye contact. Erik doesn't know much about wine. He drinks some from time to time, but he wouldn't be able to tell the difference between two bottles without their price. But he has to admit that this one is particularly good.

"Usually, for this kind of dish, we would go for white wine," Charles starts after a sip taken with a fond smile due to the rich taste of the wine. "But I might have picked it up thanks to what I felt in your mind, I hope it's okay? I wanted to make you taste heaven in a bottle."

"Well, I must say you chose well, Charles," He takes another sip and sends the alcohol roll against the roof of his mouth with his tongue. "Really well, actually."

"That's a quality I have, I guess."

Erik lets a laugh escape his mouth before turning back to the stove. The meal is ready, and now is not the right time to freak out about its quality, even if Charles seems to be used to pricey meals. It smells good, as usual, and it's one of his favorites. He just hopes Charles will like it too.

He serves generous portions on both plates as Charles sits on his designated chair, then joins him with napkins and the remaining wine.

"Erik, it looks delicious!" Charles takes a deep breath above his plate, getting all the smell of the spices and the ginger.

"Try it before judging, you may not like it, who knows?"

"I highly doubt that, my friend."

Charles already has picked his fork and dives enthusiastically in the food, and soon he makes once again that filthy noise he made the first time they met, drinking his tea. That sound is like a lightning in Erik's spine, and it takes him a few moments to get himself in check again. But the second mouthful elicits another soft moan, and he seriously starts to wonder how he will be able to finish eating before finishing Charles. He releases his grip on his knife when he feels the metal bend to his power, taking the shape of his fingers.

"Damn this mouth of yours, Charles, I don't even know what you want with me."

He's losing control, he can feel it. The man is a damn tease since the beginning.

"Oh, I'm so sorry to bother you, I just can't help it. I'll try to be silent…"

"No, that's not what I meant! It's just… really disturbing, over food, actually. But please, be as loud as you need… That's not how I planned this sentence. Now you think I'm a pervert, don't you ?" Erik sighs, hiding his eyes behind his hand. "I'm a fool."

He nearly jumps when he feels Charles' hand on the one who is still on the table.

"Erik, just trust me. I'm not here to mock you or anything. I'm here because I want to know you, I want to understand you. Everything is perfect so far. Just enjoy the moment, all right ? I like your twisted sense of humor so please, don't try to get rid of it."

"Only if you don't get rid of the noises."

Charles suppress a laugh. "All right. Just so you know, it's because it's been so long since I ate something this good."

Erik stumbles with his words after that, trying to thank him for the compliment while swallowing his bite.

Then they fall in a nice chat, and Erik finally gets to relax and enjoy himself. Charles is a good listener, as he saw earlier when they talked about his past, as well as a tremendous speaker. He doesn't see the time passing, and soon they are finished, the pot cleaned to almost-perfection without having been washed, and their bellies full.

They pile everything in the dishwasher before retreating to the living room with their glasses and the end of the bottle.

"So…" Erik starts. He doesn't really know what to say right now. He just wants to touch the man sitting on the couch, to make him do the same sounds as earlier, but he doesn't know how to approach him. His heart beats dizzyingly fast once again, anticipation building hard. He feels like he has been in an emotional rollercoaster for a week now. He is drained, hasty, and even antsy. But Charles is sitting as if everything is fine, that damn bastard, an innocent smile on his lips and fingers combing his hair, his elbow on the back of the couch. Sex on legs. That's the only thought Erik has right now. And, based on the knowing smile that stretches Charles' lips, Erik has been excruciatingly loud in his head. Charles' teeth nip at his lower lips, and he takes another sip of his wine before putting the glass on the stained coffee table. All Erik can do right now is to stomp to the foot of the couch, nearly jumping to his knees in front of the man who drives him crazy. His hands land on Charles' firm thighs, and he can see the sharp intake of air the man draws. From this close, he is able to see all the freckles that sprinkle his nose and cheeks, leading past his cherry-red lips to his pale neck and throat, before disappearing under his button-up shirt. Erik can't take his eyes off of him, Charles is such a beautiful man, and the vivid blue of his eyes is shining under the electric light.

What would it be in a candle-lit room or by a fire? He wants to find out. He wants to know where the path of freckles leads. He wants to know the texture of his skin, to map every mole and beauty mark.

He is totally smitten, endeared, amazed by the view he has of Charles just above him. He is the perfect mix of innocence and lust, his hair messed up, his cheeks heated by the wine they drank, his lips once again so inviting.

Charles is looking down at him, for once their height difference reversed.

They share a long glance before Charles' hands come to his cheeks, slowly caressing the stubble with his fingertips. Then, they go to the angular shapes on both sides of his jaw, to the soft skin under his ears, to his hair, as if Charles needs to touch to have a mental imprint of him. Erik mirrors his movements, gently touching the smooth paleness, until Charles' fingers lock tightly in his hair, forcing him to look up to him. They stay frozen for just an instant, the next one their lips crash against each other.

The kiss is messy, with too much teeth and tongue, but Erik cannot give any shit. Charles' lips are the most delicious and plush pastry he ever had the luck to taste, and he is not going to let go anytime soon. Their hands roam to the front of their chests, caressing without a pause every inch they can land on. Soon, Charles' button-up is half-open and Erik has the pleasure to discover the velvet of his hidden skin, creamy white with red spots of exhilaration. Charles doesn't take long to remove Erik's shapeless work shirt before getting down of the couch. Charles is now on Erik's lap, their mouths get back together, kissing, gently biting, and the heat has dissipated just enough to let their tongues caress each other, Erik's hand fisting Charles' hair, his own back caressed by Charles' hands. Charles moves his hips, gently rubbing against Erik's dirty jean, giving their obvious hard-ons some friction. The movement makes Erik lose his breath, and Charles takes advantage of his height to stay just over him, not letting their lips touch anymore. They exchange breaths, the scent of the other, a heady perfume.

Erik whines when he is unable to touch Charles for long, and before the professor can react, he grabs Charles' shoulders to hold him while he makes him lie on the floor, then straddles him.

"You sure you wanna make out on the floor, Charles?" he manages to whisper, out of breath, before nibbling at the man's ear.

The resulting cry sends a throb to his impatient cock, and the pain in his knees takes the decision for him.

He all but drags the willing professor to his bedroom.

Erik's head is resting on Charles' torso, listening to the steady beats of his heart. He doesn't know where this thing could lead, but he doesn't want to think about it right now. His body is spent, his mind calm. Charles is gently threading his hair with his fingers, lost in contemplation. He just wants to stay like that a little longer.

He closes his eyes.

Erik? Charles' mind is softly touching his, demanding access.

"Don't you want to talk out loud?" Erik asks.

You may have damaged my vocal chords, I wouldn't dare try to speak right now.

Erik huffs. "And it's all my fault, right. Tell me again who started this?"

Oh shut up, dear.

Charles is all brightness and sweetness in his head, a presence that makes him relax. He could fall asleep. If the man could just be silent for a while.

But he hears Charles' amused chuckle, honey on top of a cake, and decides he won't ever sleep again if that's the result he can produce.

I wanted to suggest something to you, darling. Charles' inner voice is now serious, so Erik straightens on his elbow, leaving Charles' heaven of a skin.

"What is it?"

We talked earlier, about what happened to you and what you missed, and it pains me to see you rot on your job. I know, I have seen what you are capable of. What would you think about going to night class and graduate? I know programs that would fit.

Before Erik can entirely process and answer, disbelief tainting his mind, Charles continues.

There's nothing a recommendation letter from a Columbia Professor can't do in this area. Would you trust me with it? Do you want to try and have the job you dream of?

Erik only nods, incapable of finding words. What Charles suggests is a complicated, probably doomed plan, but he can't help but hope. To become the man he was starting to be before the accident. The idea is blooming in his mind, in his heart. He wants it. He wants to finally take his revenge on society, to show everyone he is worth it.

Of course you are worth it, darling. So, what would you like to study? I may be able to help you on some matters… Or have some of my best students volunteering.

Erik still doesn't answer, lost in the happiness surging from all his body, but he thoroughly kisses the man he is so rapidly falling for, this perfect creature sharing his bed, and maybe his life for now on, because Erik is sure as hell he won't let him go. Ever.

I hoped you enjoyed it :)