Summary: On the return trip to the mansion after seeing "Wicked," Charles and Magneto find that the play hits a little close to home. Set during "Evolution"; specifically, during the "Those Who Can't, Teach" universe, because I can't think of a good reason why Erik would be driving Charles and a van full of mutants back to the school without him already basically living there. Title is, of course, from "Wicked" (specifically, from "As Long As You're Mine"). Contains some semi-suggestive Magneto/Charles slashy bits.
Make Up For Lost Time
The play itself is enjoyable, and traveling from Westchester into the city for a day trip (a little over an hour with moderate traffic) prior to attending the performance is a pleasant enough journey. The return trip, on the other hand, leaves a lot to be desired. The foremost reason is that it's a bitch-and-a-half to get out of the parking garage where they've stowed the van in any sort of reasonable time period. After several long minutes that feel excruciatingly like hours, some of the students start to get a little restless. "Geez, you'd think the fact that we parked in a handicapped spot would have helped," Kitty mutters, albeit loudly enough for everyone else to hear.
Charles pastes a placid smile on his face, forcing his voice to sound pleasant; though in truth, the close quarters, and the fact that he's spent so much time with a handful of his charges is starting to annoy him, as well. "I'm sure Erik will get us out of here when he's able to," he entreats. Next to him, in the driver's seat, he and Erik exchange raised eyebrows.
The car directly behind them in the lengthy procession leading, eventually, out of the garage moves a miniscule inch or two forward. Telepathically, Charles can feel everybody in their own vehicle tense in anticipation, and then collapse again mentally in frustrated defeat. "God damn it," Logan actually says aloud, and Charles turns and shoots him a glance. "Sorry, Chuck," the mutton-chopped man grunts, and to his benefit, he does sound fairly apologetic. Then, a moment later, he leans forward a bit. "So you know, ol' Mags here could get us out of here way faster. Just sayin'. Hypothetically."
Charles sighs, realizing immediately what Logan is implying. "I don't think ..." he begins to contest, but is interrupted by a suddenly exuberant Kitty.
"Hey, yeah! He can move metal, can't he?" Charles braces himself for wheedling. "Okay," Kitty addresses the other occupants in the van, "All in favor of Professor Magnus getting us out of here before we all have, like, gray hair?" There's a beat, and then: "Whoops! Sorry, Professor."
"That's all right, Kitty," Charles begins to say, but is drowned out by the chorus of "ayes" and raised hands. Erik smirks, but stays silent. "Surely we can wait the requisite amount of time, the same as everybody else. Just because we're mutants doesn't mean we deserve special treatment," he continues, but the other students have jumped on Kitty's bandwagon now.
"It's just this once. Nobody's getting hurt by it, and we'd all get back to the school faster so we can get a good night's rest." He needs to stop encouraging Jean's Debate Club prowess, Charles thinks sourly.
"Magneto's done worse stuff to humans besides cut in line," Rogue offers bluntly. Charles can distinctly hear Erik snort at this line of logic. Sourly, he punches the other man in the shoulder. 'Don't encourage them,' he warns, glowering.
Kitty continues to offer her two cents. "Come on, Professor, please? I really have to pee."
This time, Erik pipes up. "Kitty has to pee, Charles," he simpers, and Charles rolls his eyes, knowing he's not going to win this round. Taking his brooding as consent, Erik proceeds to lift all of the cars in the vicinity ahead of them up with a simple hand gesture. It's a tight fit, but soon, a path is cleared enough for them to maneuver their way out of the parking garage and onto the road. All of the students, sans Scott, let out whoops and cheers.
Charles settles back in his seat as Erik maneuvers them skillfully back to the mansion that he now, also, calls home. "I hope you're happy," the bald man hisses at his lover. Erik's smart-ass retort is cut-off by Kitty and Rogue chorusing, "line from the play!", however, at which point Charles rubs at his temples and decides he's going to pawn field trip duties off completely on Logan and Storm from now on.
They're making good time, particularly with Erik driving/manipulating the vehicle along the highway, though nobody can agree on a radio station, at which point Charles irritatedly declares that they can listen to the wind. That's when the discussion starts betwixt the lot of them, sans Kurt, who is snoring audibly next to Rogue, his head tilted back, his mouth slack. "I think you can really like, feel bad for Glinda," Kitty tells Rogue, her perky voice filtering into Charles' ears from the backseat. "Like, she has a lot to deal with, keeping everyone happy and stuff."
Charles watches Rogue twist her lips skeptically in the rearview mirror. "I dunno," she shrugs. "Glinda was kind of stuck-up and snotty. Elphaba had it way harder."
"Yeah, but if Elphaba would have just like, played the game a little, she might not have had to make some of the choices she did. Glinda even tried to help her, and she totally ran away and made things worse for herself."
Jean chimes in from her window seat beside Scott. "Glinda has a lot of responsibility," she agrees cordially, "but I think it's good to be compassionate to Elphaba, too. She's not, after all, truly wicked. She just can't handle mainstream society the way it is. In a lot of ways, she's braver than most." If Jean, or anybody else, for that matter, happens to notice the shifty glances being exchanged by the professor and Erik as the discussion plays out, she has the tact not to say anything. "What do you think, Scott?" she prods.
Scott sighs. "I think people forget that Elphaba performs terrorist acts to get her way. She acts completely without regard for anyone's feelings but her own. Just because she was friends with Glinda once, it doesn't mean how she behaves is okay." This time, Charles' abrupt coughing fit in the passenger seat is unmistakably related to the conversation at hand. Reaching out a large hand, Erik raps him on the back a couple of times.
Jean looks a bit taken aback by her boyfriend's bluntness. Flanking Scott's right side, Logan pats the younger man on the shoulder. "Tell us how you really feel, bub," he chuckles, and then looks up. "Hey, Chuck, how much farther, do you know?"
"Far enough," is Charles' curt reply.
The van's occupants lapse into a not-entirely-comfortable silence after that. It's almost enough to make Charles lift his radio embargo; then Kitty has to go and ruin his gracious mood. "So what were you guys' favorite parts of the show?" she squeals suddenly. "Weren't all the Wizard of Oz references cool?"
"I loved the origin of the ruby slippers," Jean enthuses, shooting a worried glance at the front seat every so often. It's possible that Charles is projecting, and rather loudly, at that.
"Me, too!" Kitty drops her voice to an unnecessary conspiratorial whisper. "Um, Professor?" she ventures. "Was it like, weird for you to see Nessarose walk? Like, did you think it was a bad message to send to disabled people or something?"
Erik lets out a strangled wheeze from the driver's seat. "No, Kitty. Other people besides me are allowed to be in wheelchairs," Charles sighs, and pinches the other man in the side. In retaliation, Erik manages to find a spare pocket of flesh near Charles' tummy, and grips it mercilessly. "Ow! That's going to bruise," he complains, and Erik's eyes gleam as he eyes his lover.
"You started it."
"You are a child," Charles hisses, twisting violently in his seat to peer at what he is sure must be severely purpling flesh. Cheerfully, Erik pats him on the knee, and hums facetiously.
"Oh my God," Kitty squeals, "Wasn't 'Defying Gravity' like, the greatest song ever?"
The rest of the trip is fairly uneventful, save Rogue amusing herself by dangling her ungloved hand near Kitty's face; they had eventually come together in solidarity to draw on Kurt's still-sleeping face with glitter pens. Jean had telepathically communicated this to Charles, and had been slightly put off when his only response had been a flat, "if they're not actively killing one another, I don't care." She had then slunk down in her own seat for the remainder of the ride, intent on continuing to give Scott the cold shoulder. Logan, for his part, had mostly stared out the window and thought about whether or not he should hit the convenience store for more beer when they got back because he was pretty sure there wasn't enough left in his current stash to warrant how drunk he needed to be to dull the pain of this day. "Yes," he had muttered triumphantly to himself as they rolled up the mansion's mile-long driveway.
Once they're all safely inside the house (save for Logan, who has already taken off on his motorcycle), Charles quickly excuses himself for the evening, allowing Erik to float his wheelchair upstairs. "So," he yawns, watching the other man strip off his clothes. His eyes rove appreciatively over Erik's warm-looking, leanly-muscled skin. "What did you think of the play?"
"Good," Erik shrugs, tugging down his pants. He watches Charles unfasten his tie and work his way deftly through each button hole on his shirt. "I liked the music," he adds.
"Mmm," Charles nods. "And the costuming, I suppose."
Erik nods. Charles' bare chest is visible now. He shrugs out of his jacket. "Good lighting, too."
"Yes." The bald man's lips quirk. "The story was a tad juvenile, though."
Erik laughs and moves closer. "Indeed," he says softly, bending so they're at eye level. "How could two people with such opposing ideologies ever be friends?" he smirks.
"Quite ridiculous," Charles breathes in agreement. They stare at one another some more, and then he sighs. "Do I have to say it?" he sighs, and Erik's eyes gleam.
"Yes, you do."
Charles straightens in his chair. "Fine," he glares. "That entire play made me horny."
Erik's grin spreads. "You could have just said something earlier. All that practice going down on me on road trips, utterly for naught."
Charles rolls his eyes. "If you don't recall, there were children present on this particular trip."
"Yes, and they were busy drawing genitalia on one another's faces with glitter pens," Erik deadpans.
Charles concedes this with a shrug. "In any case," Erik continues, "perhaps our next Broadway excursion should be just the two of us. You, me," he entices, gesturing back and forth between them as he speaks. "Box seats. Dinner at that Italian place you enjoy so much."
Charles smiles softly. "That sounds awfully proper," he teases. "I never knew you were such a hopeless romantic, Erik."
Erik reaches out to tilt Charles' chin with his fingers. "You would suck me off in the car, but you won't let me take you out on a date? Honestly, Charles. Whatever would your mother say?"
"I'll suck you off right now if you promise never to mention my mother during foreplay ever again," Charles says abruptly.
"Deal," Erik agrees quickly, and then he's bundling Charles' half-nude form in his arms and hurrying them towards their shared bed.