1Going their separate ways only meant so much. Their paths intersected so often, sometimes they were even trying to accomplish the same thing, especially when there was someone with an agenda against mutants. And, well, it was easy to fall back into old habits.
Charles shifted slightly, Erik's head heavy on his chest, but the other man's arm tightened around his torso, and buried his face firmly in Charles's neck. Charles had to smile, laying a hand on Erik's bare back, and rubbing up and down.
A soft, happy murmur came from the other man's throat, and Charles grinned, kissing the top of his dear friend's head.
It couldn't have been to long after, when Charles had drifted off, that a loud crash woke them both. Erik grunted, and flailed, panicking, confused by the tangle of limbs, Charles hurriedly calmed him, "Erik, you need to be quiet. Something's happening."
Erik blinked down at him, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. Charles pushed himself up, leaning against Erik's side, "I can sense someone in the hallway."
"They have a gun."
Charles frowned, entering the mysterious person's mind. Anger, a whirlwind of overwhelming anger...but very specific anger. At Erik. And a plot... other people, a group... he recognized the leader, a radical offshoot of an anti-mutant faction...
Gripping Erik's arm, he realized he was breathing quickly, upset by the images in the assassin's mind, "you need to get out of here, he's coming to kill you."
"With what? A metal bullet?"
"No. Trust me Erik, you need to run."
Erik glared at his non-explanation, but stood, "how exactly do you propose we leave without the use of the hallway?"
"You can get out by the fire escape. I can influence him, I'll be fine."
"We have our differences, Charles, but me leaving you behind with an assassin isn't about to become one of them."
Charles glared, "I told you I'll be fine. Get out, I can't stop him from killing you, he's too angry."
"Oh, so you wouldn't be fine."
"He's angry at you, not at me."
Erik's strong arms lifted him, he pushed away at the other man's shoulder, "stop it, Erik. You need to run."
The door banged open, and they were suddenly traveling through a window, and down the metal steps of the fire escape. Charles held on for dear life, and buried his face in his friend's neck, "this was a bad idea."
A gun fired above them, he tightened his grip even further, if possible, "Erik, please, put me down."
Erik only ran faster. It wouldn't be fast enough, not with the man behind them, still shooting. Suddenly, Erik went down, both of them landing hard. Charles gripped frantically at his friend's collar, pinned by the other man's body weight, "Erik!"
Erik groaned, Charles searched every part of him he could reach, finding blood on his back, shoulder... there, the wound was right on his shoulder blade. Erik's muscles bunched, Charles knew he was going to try and get up, the man was right above them, Charles stared up at his hate-filled eyes...and suddenly he was looking back down, at his own slack face, and Erik's straining body. He looked down at the gun in his hand, the plastic bullets...
The man's anger rose up, he struggled, fought, he needed to keep him down, he needed Erik to be safe. The man raised his gun, Charles's was caught by surprise, the bullet entering his, the man's skull.
The pain was horrendous. His throat felt raw as he screamed, he was being held down by strong arms, his fingernails dug into flesh, he could not see, the pain was too intense. He coughed, liquid had entered his mouth, it tasted disgusting, he screamed again, arching against the pain, out of his mind, gone.
Charles opened his eyes, slowly, groggily. Fingers were carding through his hair with the utmost gentleness, an arm was across his chest, the arm was bleeding from four small wounds in a row. Charles ached like he'd just run a marathon. He stiffly lifted his hand, fingertips reaching the arm in a jerky motion.
"Charles?"
He unsealed his lips by licking them, clearing his throat. It hurt, a lot, and he tried to speak, but was far too hoarse.
"Inside, then."
He closed his eyes, and spoke to his dear, dear friend, "I hurt you."
"No, Charles." He could feel the warmth of his friend's look, knew it was okay.
"You've been shot."
"Only a little."
He felt dizzy, even lying down, and his upper lip itched. He wiped at it, partially dried blood smeared his hand. He frowned, staring at it. Erik held a hanky in front of his nose, wiping gently, until the blood was cleared away, "how can you be only a little bit shot?"
"It's very shallow. I'll be perfectly fine."
Charles gave much less protest when Erik lifted him again, resting his head heavily against the other man's shoulder, "I've never felt this exhausted. I've felt people die before, I held Shaw in place while you killed him."
"He didn't die."
Charles frowned in surprise, and confusion, "what?"
"The man, there. He just started writhing around, you wouldn't come back. For almost an hour, you were inside him, while he bled to death"
Charles closed his eyes, utterly spent, and miserable, "I don't remember."
"That's probably just as well."
He must have passed out in Erik's arms, he woke to grunting sounds, and swearwords in other languages. Opening his eyes, Erik was lying beside him on the bed, with a mirror and a knife in the air above him, trying to remove the plastic bullet. Blood trickled from the wound, Charles couldn't stop staring.
He sat up, and laid a hand on his friend's lower back, croaking out, "let me."
Erik surrendered the knife when Charles's hand wrapped around the handle, and Charles deftly pried out the bullet, Erik grunted into the pillow. Charles set the bullet on the bedside table, and took the gauze Erik had beside him, taping it against the admittedly quite shallow wound. Plastic must not have had the penetration at long range that metal did.
"Are you alright?"
Erik nodded, and turned over, gripping Charles's arms, hard. Charles blinked at him in surprise, "Erik?"
"Stop scaring me."
Charles smiled, and laid an arm across his friend's chest, "I will try, dear friend. But listen, when I tell you I will be alright."
A smile, "you would never leave me."
"I'm stronger than you."
"No, you really aren't."
"Prove it."
Erik frowned, confused. Charles laid his head down, "but not today."
A laugh, and an arm wrapping firmly around his shoulders, holding him tight against the warm body of his friend.
