Author's note: I decided to write anything that is a telepathic communication/projection in brackets, [like this] so they will stand out.
Set during X-men First Class, hurt/comfort of Charles being terribly unsettled by being back in the mansion again, and Erik seeing him through it.
Charles had thought that the mansion had only seemed to loom ominously above him because he had been a child. Small in comparison to everything, and the mansion especially. But now he's an adult. A professor. He's not so small anymore, but the mansion still looms. It seems to have grown more ominous over the years, like some sort of dark cloud is hovering around and inside of it. Just looking up at it makes Charles feel uneasy; unwelcome and unwanted in what is now his own home.
The others don't seem to notice any of that, though. They're staring up at the huge, opulent house in awe. None of them have ever seen such grandeur in person, Charles is sure, and he can feel bitter jealousy rolling around in a couple of their minds.
"Honestly, Charles," Erik says, "I don't know how you survived. Living in such hardship."
"Excuse me for a moment." Charles said, suddenly nauseous beyond belief. He hears Raven invite everyone in for a tour as he drops to his knees behind the mansion, glad there will be no one around to witness this.
It's as if his internal anxiety has decided to physically manifest itself as he starts retching, his stomach in utter turmoil. He never wanted to come back here. He was prepared to leave the mansion and all its bad memories to rot. But it's become clear that they will need this house. He has to get over this.
"Charles?" Erik appears from seemingly out of nowhere behind him, and Charles nearly jumps out of his skin. His stomach is still roiling though, and instead of answering he throws up. Erik, unexpectedly kneels beside him and carefully holds Charles' floppy hair back. He cautiously pats at Charles' back too. And it's awkward, Erik is clearly unused to trying to comfort someone else, but still nice. And Erik figures it out soon enough, and stops patting at him and rubs circles on Charles' back instead.
"Charles?" Erik asks again, once Charles has emptied his stomach. "Are you ill?"
"Not at all, my friend." Charles manages, "I think it must be something I ate."
It becomes clear after a couple of days that it isn't just something he ate. Charles knew, of course, but it took Erik that long to figure it out for sure. But after a couple days of Charles skipping meals for fear he'd not be able to keep them down, and heavily spiking his evening tea, Erik knows something else is the matter. And he's projecting concern so loudly that, as touching as it is, it's giving Charles a headache to go with everything else.
[He's my best friend…have to do something…won't tell me what's wrong…what if he's dying]
"I'm not dying." Charles says, in answer to that last, most absurd, thought. "Sorry, you're projecting. Rather loudly, in fact. But, really, don't worry. It's just my stomach. I'm sure it will pass."
"If it's just your stomach, then spiking your tea can't be helping." Erik says, "I'll get you a fresh cup."
He leaves Charles no time to argue, just takes the cup Charles has just made and disappears. He returns with a fresh cup, and Charles, not wanting to further concern Erik, Charles drinks it and heads to bed.
Erik doesn't head to bed, though. He's too frustrated. He's sure Charles knows what's going on, and simply refuses to tell him. He paces in the study for a long while after Charles goes to bed, and that's when he hears it. It's the quietest of projections, barely a whisper. Not enough to wake someone who was already asleep. But it's there. There are no words, or images, just a sense of terrible, overpowering dread.
Erik makes his way towards Charles' room, and the feeling grows stronger. It's almost enough to make Erik feel sick, and as he opens the door to Charles' room he gets a few images too. A woman, who smells so strongly of alcohol that it's disgusting. A man, red faced and angry. A boy, equally angry. And over it all is a deeply rooted layer of fear and sorrow and regret.
Erik can hear Charles whimpering in his sleep when he finally makes his way to Charles' bedside. He's got his bedsheets twisted in his hands and a few stray tears are rolling down his face. Erik reaches out, brushes them away, and is about to call Charles' name when Charles wakes with a start, sitting up so fast that he almost bonks heads with Erik.
"Who? Erik, is that you?" Charles asks, out of breath. "What are you doing? Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"You were projecting." Erik says, inviting himself to sit next to Charles on the bed. "What was that?"
"I was projecting?" Charles says, ignoring Erik's question. "I'm so sorry, my friend. Sometimes its harder to control in my sleep. I hope I didn't wake anyone else."
"I was already awake. The others are probably still asleep, you were fairly quiet." Erik says, "Now, what was that."
"Just…bad memories." Charles says. "Nothing to worry about. Go get some sleep."
"Tell me, Charles." Erik presses. He has a feeling that the bad memories and the not eating are connected somehow. Charles shakes his head furiously. "Then show me."
"No, Erik. I won't burden you." Charles says.
"It's no burden." Erik says, "You are my friend. Tell me or show me, your choice. But I won't give up until you do one or the other."
[Are you sure?] Charles asks, quietly.
[You said that you knew everything about me, once. Fair is fair, Charles. I want to know about you too.] Erik says.
[Ok] Charles says, and with that it's like the floodgates have been opened. Charles shows him his father, how he died. The man who married his mother, who abused Charles and his own son, Cain. Shows him how Cain hated him, how his mother neglected him in favor of alcohol.
[I never wanted to come back here.] Charles says, when he has shown Erik everything. [Too many skeletons in the closet.]
[You should change that.] Erik says.
"What?" Charles asks aloud, "What do you mean by that."
"Redecorate." Erik explains. "Get rid of their things. This is your home. Get rid of them. Make this place really yours."
"Not a bad idea." Charles admits. [Will you help me?]
[Of course. I'm sure the children will too. We can start tomorrow, if you like.] Erik says.
[Sounds nice.] Charles says around a yawn, [For now though, will you stay?]
[What?] Erik asks.
[Stay with me] Charles practically pleads. He tugs Erik into his bed, and traps him there by placing his head on Erik's chest. Erik freezes for a moment, unsure. But then he slips his arms around Charles and holds him tightly.
[Alright, I'll stay.] Erik says, [But only if you promise to eat breakfast tomorrow.]
[Sounds fair.] Charles says.