This is an idea I just couldn't get out of my head. :) Please review!
It can also be found on my tumblr: post/74760149486/charles-is-an-honest-drunk-erik-learns-he-cant#notes
Charles is an honest drunk, Erik learns. He can't remember what number drink his telepathic friend is on, but based on the way Charles' words flow together in one tangled mess of syllables, he would assume the answer is… more than a few.
Charles leans back into his chair, letting out an exasperated sigh.
"My friend," he slurs, "I'm afraid I cannot continue this game while I'm drunk." He motions to the chessboard that clearly proves the truth behind his statement.
Erik can't help but chuckle. At least Charles is self-aware.
"Yes, yes I'm very aware of how drunk I am thankyouverymuch," Charles pipes back, finishing the last bit of scotch in his glass.
The telepath glances at the fire roaring in the fireplace and then leans forward, placing his drink on the table beside him. His eyes- the most beautiful pair of eyes Erik thinks he's ever seen- languidly and teasingly make their along the length of the metal-bender's body, and Erik squirms for a moment before asking, "What?"
"Erik," Charles says, "I like you."
Erik laughs again, shaky and breathless, not entirely sure what he was expecting to hear come out of his friend's mouth.
"I like you, too," he says, offering a small and no longer rare (with Charles, that is) smile. He'll play along because hey, a drunk Charles is a fun Charles.
"Nonono." The telepath shakes his head. "That's not what I meant. I mean I like you, Erik." He waits patiently for Erik to respond.
The only problem is… Erik doesn't really know how to respond to that. This is Charles, after all; the man who has never before expressed any romantic- if that is what he means of course- interest in Erik. Charles has always been friendly, always welcoming and warm, but never has he done anything to suggest the prospect of something more than friendship… has he?
Charles reaches forward and places a gentle hand over Erik's. It's then that Erik remembers a particularly scorching evening he and Charles endured while they were recruiting. While staying in a rather shitty- Erik's word, not Charles'- motel, the two had decided to resign to their beds earlier than usual. Upon grabbing his pajamas, Charles had sauntered to the bathroom and had let his fingers trace idly over Erik's knuckles while Erik unpacked his bag. It was a quick movement, and Erik had merely written it off as an unintentional, even accidental, action.
He realizes now that perhaps that hadn't been the case.
"You mean…?" Erik asks, and Charles nods before pulling his hand back. "Oh."
"I'm sorry," Charles spits out, "That was completely unnecessary and rather... unprofessional."
"No," Erik says, "It's alright." He reaches out across the chessboard and retrieves Charles' hand again, squeezing it a little more fiercely than what he intends.
Charles stands up, moves around the chessboard, and looks down at Erik before pulling the metal-manipulator up so they're level. There's quite a height difference, of course, but that doesn't stop Charles from guiding Erik's lips down to his own.
For a moment Erik is startled because again, this is Charles, but the fact that it is Charles somehow makes it alright. If someone's going to kiss him, he'd prefer the telepath.
Charles' lips are warm and taste of scotch, and the slight burning Erik feels only makes him yearn for more. He trembles when Charles' tongue slips into his mouth, exploring, but careful not to overwhelm. The whole thing is so right, so perfect, that Erik can't help but shiver despite the warmth Charles' presence provides. From the moment Erik decided to stay, there have been moments of what the fuck am I doing here?, but this simply confirms why he's stayed all this time. It isn't Shaw- no, it's Charles. And it's always been Charles. He knows that now.
The telepath lets out something like a moan and gropes for the bottom of Erik's shirt, but as much as it kills Erik to do so, he grabs Charles' hands and whispers, "Not now. Perhaps when you're sober and have a clearer head."
So Charles stops and smiles up at Erik, his lips kiss-swollen and even more red than usual.
"I'm going to take you up on that offer, you know," Charles says, and the way the last words run together reminds Erik of his friend's, of his lover's, current state.
He slips his fingers through Charles' and leads him from the study to the telepath's bedroom, which isn't too far.
"I thought you said…?" Charles questions when they enter the room, but Erik shakes his head.
"You need to sleep, liebling."
"What does 'liebling' mean?"
"I'll tell you tomorrow."
Charles doesn't question that, and he falls into bed almost instantly, not even bothering to change into his pajamas. He lays on his back, and the corners of his mouth quirk up when Erik begins to undo the laces of Charles' shoes. The smug look on the telepath's face is rather frustrating, and Erik wants to wipe it from his face with breathless kisses, but he knows he must wait.
Erik is about to leave the room when Charles calls, "Will you stay?"
"I told you, Charles, not tonight."
"That's not what I mean." He sighs. "Just lay with me, will you? At least until I fall asleep?"
Erik contemplates this, then shuts the door and wanders over to the unoccupied side of the bed, slipping off his shoes as he did for Charles. The covers are cool beneath his body, but this doesn't matter. He can feel Charles extending his mind, wrapping it warmly around Erik's in a way that brings the metal-manipulator a sense of comfort he hasn't had in years.
Charles' eyes start to flutter, and he slips off into blissful unconsciousness; all Erik can think of is how peaceful the telepath looks, and how much he would give to preserve that peace.
I could get used to this, Erik thinks, and despite the soft snoring radiating from the man next to him, he swears he can see a hint of a smile left on Charles' face.