Written for the Chatango Secret Santa 2012 exchange! My victim was the lovely fightingfortheusers who wanted 1) Coffee shop date; 2) Marvel mash-up between Cherik and Avengers; or 3) Professors.
This is the PANGEA INTERPRETATION of all those things. ;)
With thanks to MonstrousRegiment for putting my needs before the Sun and giving me a kickstart.
For the sake of this fic, Erik and Charles are both young.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Coffee Date
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The dust has fallen and the smoke has cleared and once again good has triumphed over evil and the day has been saved and isn't that just fucking perfect.
"You were marvelous using the overturned bus to blockade the street, my friend," an ever-cheerful voice says beside him as he picks his way through the wreckage back towards the main intersection where the battle had originally unfolded. The damage this time has only spanned about a block, but no doubt the mayor will throw a fit anyway. "I do believe that was the deciding factor leading to the capture of—"
"For god's sake, Charles," Erik says, flipping a half-crushed taxi out of their way with a flick of his fingers, "don't try to act like everything is fine and dandy. If we have to deal with an alien invasion one more time, I'm going to sit back and let it happen because at this point it is not worth the effort."
Charles skirts around a particularly large puddle of steaming goo splattered across the sidewalk and up the side of the closest building. "You're just grumpy because they ripped your cape."
"Do you know how much this fabric costs?" Erik hisses back. He grabs Charles' arm to help him step over a particularly dangerous-looking pile of rubble. "I can't just sew it and expect it to work."
Charles only sighs, but he's one to talk; the sleeves of his tweed jacket—seriously, who wears a tweed jacket as part of their superhero costume, Erik would really like to know, oh, that's right, someone whose daytime regular job is teaching as a university professor (still, what the hell, Erik does it too—shut up, it's easy cover—and still somehow manages to not dress like an 80-year-old)—are slightly singed.
Erik looks at him sharply for a moment. Aside from singed sleeves and a slightly askew mask that Erik deftly tilts back into place, Charles appears unharmed. Good. Because if he wasn't, there would have to be some Consequences.
Charles beams at him. "Thank you, my friend. This mask is quite a hassle, I almost wish we could do without like Clint and Natasha."
"As neither of us are international secret spies," Erik remarks dryly, "it may be best to keep the masks."
He tells himself that Charles does not look appetizing as the shorter man scowls.
"We don't want any of our students to recognize us. And besides," Erik continues loftily as they reach the intersection at last, "need I remind you that this was your idea, so you can deal with the wardrobe it entails. I'm just here to make sure you don't get yourself killed."
"It's our calling!" Charles insists, and Erik rolls his eyes because he's heard that one before. "We have extraordinary gifts, what better way to use them than to join forces with other extraordinary people and do good for the world?"
Approximately two nanoseconds later Thor lands in the middle of the street in a strike of lightning that shakes the ground, and the impact kicks up a manhole cover that sails through the air and smacks right into the Hulk's face. The Hulk roars, picking up the disk where it has fallen and flings it back across the street, directly into the last undamaged car on the block.
"Extraordinary." Erik says after the sound of screaming metal and shattered glass stops echoing up the street.
"Whoa, ten points for the Green Rage Monster." Iron Man swoops in, hovering for a moment before dropping to the ground with a clank. His faceplate flips up and Tony Stark grins out at them all. "Have we picked teams yet? Because I want to be on Bruce's team. X, baby, you're invited too. Brains over brawn for the win. Mags, you can stick with Shocktop over there."
Charles chuckles and Erik narrows his eyes. "Your suit is made of iron, Stark."
"Is that what it's made of?" Tony gasps. "Mags, after all this time—so many sleepless nights, kept up in endless wonder—what would I do without you—"
"Okay, people." Steve arrives, vaulting over a concrete block. Natasha follows close behind. "We got them all. We should go ahead and get started on cleanup, it'll probably take the crews awhile to get here through all the mess."
"You know what I need?" Tony asks, as if Steve hasn't said a single word. "Coffee." He leers at Erik.
Erik glares back. "Stark—"
"A Midgardian beverage would be most heartening!" Thor agrees, blissfully unaware of Tony's ulterior motives.
"Did someone say coffee?" Clint pops up out of the wreckage out of nowhere. It's like he's been summoned by the word alone. Erik wishes he knew the banishment words.
Probably something to do with Strong Female Poses.
"We can get coffee afterwards," Steve says with a barely-contained sigh.
"No," Tony says with a grin, "coffee now!"
"Coffee now!" the Hulk echoes him automatically, smashing a fist into the concrete for emphasis, much to Tony's endless delight.
"Come on, Steve," he cajoles, "we all need a nice cup of we-just-saved-the-world-again coffee."
"Guys," Steve says, "we really need to start on—"
"Steve," Natasha breaks in, automatically commanding all of their attention. She's calm and unruffled, even though at one point during the fight Erik is fairly certain that he caught a glimpse of her fighting three aliens at once and winning by use of a Stop sign. "It's been a long morning."
"There's a Starbucks a couple blocks away from here," Charles suggests, always helpful and ever the peacemaker and also like he doesn't fucking see what Stark is up to, "someone can make a coffee run while the rest of us get started with cleanup."
"Brilliant!" Tony is grinning widely now, and Erik braces himself for impact because he knows exactly what's coming. "My vote is that Magneto goes and takes Professor X with him, because it just so happens that our call to duty this morning interrupted their date at the exact same coffee shop in question!"
"Aw," Clint says, because Clint is an asshole. "Wait, really?"
"Duh." Natasha says to him, rolling her eyes.
"I owe Darcy one hundred Midgardian dollars," Thor says thoughtfully.
"Really not a problem, though!" Charles says quickly, as if he can pretend that he's not blushing behind his mask. "Duty calls when duty calls, we can always, um, take a rain check—"
"No, no, I insist," Tony says, still grinning gleefully, and it's taking everything within Erik's power not to make that suit of his literally skintight, "that way we all get our coffee, and you two can have some quality alone time for a little bit." He wags his eyebrows. "It's the least we can do."
Erik openly conveys I will murder you with his eyes alone. It's a specialized technique of his. Judging by how Tony gives him a thumbs-up, he got the message.
"Right," Charles says awkwardly when Steve gives in and nods, "I'll take everyone's orders now, then, shall I?"
"You're the best, Professor," Tony says with a winning smile. Erik would like to scrape the smile off his face via the ground. "I'll take a Venti, half-caf, half 2%, half skinny, wet foam, single origin, fair trade, Ethiopian, one pump valencia orange, three pump mocha, no whip please."
"This is fucking ridiculous." Erik snaps.
Relax, darling, I've got it. Charles' mind soothes. "Okay. What about you, Steve?"
"Um, I don't know. Maybe just a water."
"Oh, pick a flavor," Erik says irritably, "if we're going on a coffee run, we're getting coffee."
"Someone's still mad about his ruined date," Tony stage-whispers.
Erik slams his faceplate down.
"Americano," Steve decides, and everyone within a 50-mile radius tries not to bang their head against the nearest flat surface at the predictability of Captain America ordering an Americano.
None of them say anything, though, mostly because Steve sounds proud at knowing how to order from a Starbucks.
Extraordinary, Erik reminds himself.
"Clint?" Charles asks.
Clint deliberates for a long moment. Erik braces himself, because whatever comes out of the archer's mouth is going to be profound. Profound meaning incredibly stupid. "Pumpkin spice latte."
"No way, are they still making those?" Tony asks, finally managing to get his faceplate flipped open again. "Because if they are, I want one."
"I don't think so, but we can try," Charles admits, "what's your backup order, just in case?"
"The seasonal drinks are the worst," Erik mutters.
"Excuse me?" Clint demands. "They are not. They're the only reason to go to Starbucks at all, in my opinion."
"Starbucks is a sorry excuse for coffee in the first place," Erik sneers.
"Dude, not going to win," Tony says pointedly, "he's a snobby European."
"Get me the Christmas special," Clint says to Charles, giving Erik a haughty look.
"We'll look at the menu," Charles assures him, even as he inches between the two of them. It's cute how he thinks his body mass would be enough to stop either of them.
"Tall black," Natasha says flatly before Charles can ask, and abruptly wins the spot of Erik's New Favorite Person Besides Charles Xavier.
"And handsome," Tony crows, "or wait, is it tall, dark, and handsome—"and Erik gives in and throws a car door at him.
Natasha cements herself as Erik's New Favorite Person Besides Charles Xavier by giving Erik a nod of thanks.
"Thor?" Charles asks.
All of them look a little apprehensive this time. Erik tries to remember if he's ever seen the Asgardian drinking anything other than mead. Try as he might, he can't.
Oh god.
"Strawberry Frappuccino, extra whip," Thor says calmly to the sound of several jaws dropping far enough to hit the pavement. "I have fetched drinks from the Starry Bucks many times for Lady Jane when she is deep within her research."
"Well done, Cosmic Brownie," Tony says, apropos of nothing.
"Would you like anything from Starbucks, Bruce?" Charles asks politely. Erik supposes that it's the thought that counts.
The Hulk blinks down at him for a moment. "Cookie," he says eventually.
"I'll bring you two," Charles promises, and is rewarded with a large, toothy grin.
"That's everyone," Erik says shortly, grabbing Charles by the arm and towing him away, "better get going."
"That coffee had better still be hot when you get back!" Tony calls after them. "I don't want cold coffee just because you were taking too long checking out X's ass, Mags!"
Erik drags Charles around the corner and out of sight, so he can smile as he flips Tony's faceplate down again and solder it in place.
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The line is three miles long.
Of course.
"It is not," Charles says, fondly exasperated. "It's just a busy morning."
"Shouldn't they have all run back home to be with their beloved ones since we had an alien invasion?" Erik mutters. It's loud in here and the décor is ugly.
"Well, we did end the invasion about half an hour ago," Charles answers breezily, "nothing like a good strong coffee after an alien attack to get you back in the game."
"Charles, listen to yourself."
Charles is about to answer, but then he gets hip checked by some hipster who hasn't caught on that Starbucks is too mainstream, and Erik has had enough.
He throws the hipster out the glass doors covered in fingerprints by grabbing on to a few piercings, and over the sounds of Charles' protests—frankly he's not sure why, he was even polite enough to open the doors first—he announces, "Magneto and Professor X here, please step aside, we are on urgent Avengers business."
That clears the way quickly enough, and Erik barges through the parting crowd with a reluctant Charles in his wake. He gets right up to the register, where some freckly kid with floppy red hair is staring at them with an open mouth—right, they're still in their costumes, but whatever, kid, if only you knew what Tony Stark wears under his suit—and then moves a little bit over to make room for Charles.
"Just order so we can leave," he says gruffly.
Charles refuses to look at him, and instead offers the kid at the register a bright smile. "Good morning! How are you today?"
"Uh, good?" It sounds like a question, and Erik wants to grab on to the kid's braces and squeeze. Huh. Maybe he's not cut out for this superhero business. He should look into becoming a villain. He could capture Charles and hold him hostage in a lair, all while doing unspeakable—wonderful—things to him. That sounds like much more fun than saving lives. "Can I like, help you?"
"Indeed you can!" Charles says cheerfully. "We're here on behalf of the Avengers to pick up some coffee. Nasty bit of business down the street with those aliens, but we wrapped that up fairly quickly and now we just need a little pick-me-up for the clean up part."
The kid is still staring at him. "You can, uh, order when you're ready."
While Charles rattles off everyone's orders perfectly from memory, Erik glances around and takes extra care to look intimidating. No one seems to be too annoyed that they've cut everyone in line, but it doesn't hurt to give out a few looks to make sure. It probably helps that they're both in full costume. No one seems too keen to start a fight.
He can't say much for the hipster he threw out into the street, though. Erik half-wishes that the kid had tried to start something.
I gave him a strong suggestion to cut his losses and leave, Charles says stiffly, even while he repeats Tony's fucking ridiculous order for the fifth time. Honestly, Erik, we just could have waited.
Have to get back to cleanup, Erik thinks pointedly, and underneath that he adds, the sooner we're out of here the better.
To his utter confusion, Charles sends him a hurt look before turning fully back to the cashier and adding, "And one grande Gingerbread Latte."
"Will that be all?"
"Oh, and two of your chocolate chip cookies, too, and then we'll be set."
"Okay." The kid hits a couple buttons on his screen. "Um. Your total is thirty-two sixty-eight."
"I'll get it," Erik butts in, maybe a little bit more gruffly than he initially means to but it's not like he can help it—Charles is acting like he's upset with Erik for some reason, and he'll be damned if he doesn't figure it out. And thirty-three dollars for coffee, are they kidding? But for now he may as well be a gentleman and—
Shit.
"What's the matter?" Charles asks him.
Erik glowers. Not at Charles, just at the situation in general. There's a difference. "I think I left my wallet in my. Er. Plainclothes."
"Tights not a good spot, then?" Charles asks dryly. "Don't worry, I've got it."
They're not tights, Erik thinks at him loudly while he pulls his wallet out of his convenient tweed jacket pocket, goddamn it. Charles won't be laughing when he's finally recognized by his anthropology undergrads way before any of Erik's thermodynamics undergrads recognize Erik.
Charles still maintains a smug silence all through the process of paying—it's something he's very good at, and it drives Erik up the wall and across the ceiling on a regular basis. He still won't quite look at Erik, either, so while the smug silence is something Erik can handle, the smug silence combined with the probability that Charles Is Upset is starting to get a little old. He's not the telepath around here, damn it, how's he supposed to know what he's done wrong this time?
"Have a good Christmas," the kid at the register days, finally holding out a receipt.
"I'm Jewish," Erik says flatly, which is more or less the truth, and then snatches the receipt and tows Charles towards the other end of the counter to wait for their drinks to be made.
"You don't need to manhandle me," Charles says coolly, shrugging out of his grip. Now that they're out of line people have stopped staring for the most part and things in the tiny little corner café are picking up again.
"What's wrong?" Erik demands.
"Nothing's wrong."
"Charles." Don't lie to me.
Charles folds his arms. Standing there in his goddamn superhero mask in the middle of a busy Starbucks he should only look ridiculous, but instead he's oddly endearing. "If you hate American coffee and Starbucks so much, then why bother agreeing to come on a date here with me?"
That throws Erik off guard. "What?" he asks blankly.
"I only asked you because I thought it would be a nice thing to start doing, as a morning routine," Charles says, and though he's trying his hardest to seem aloof and indifferent to what he's saying Erik can tell he's still hurt, "but if it's going to be such a hardship then we—"
"Charles." Erik glances over at the baristas making coffee. They'll probably have plenty of time thanks to the rush and Tony's fucking ridiculous drink. Ignoring Charles' protests, he grabs the telepath by the arm once again and tows him to the back of the store towards the restrooms.
"Erik, what are you—"
Erik yanks open the door with his power, and fortunately it's unoccupied or otherwise things would've gotten pretty awkward pretty fast. He tugs Charles inside and as soon as the door swings shut he turns around and slams Charles back against it, not hard enough to hurt but enough to pin him in place as he bends to capture the telepath's lips.
What are you doing, Charles hisses mentally even as he reciprocates eagerly, parting his lips with a small sound to allow Erik to tangle their tongues. Erik—
"Do you not see," Erik murmurs against Charles' lips as he melts the lock in the door and grinds up against Charles at the same time, making him gasp, "that I don't care where we go or what we do or what our routine is as long as I'm with you."
Oh, Charles says, and it's more of a feeling of realization mixed with relief and happiness than an actual word as Erik kisses him again, slower this time, thoroughly and deeply. He jumps and then groans when Erik slips a hand between their bodies to press the heel of his hand against Charles' crotch. "Erik, we are in a public restroom."
"Who cares," Erik breathes in his ear, making him shiver. He starts to rub his hand against the growing hardness that he can feel there, staying resolutely in place when Charles starts to squirm.
"We're members of the Avengers," Charles says, his voice coming out a little strained, "and besides that, anyone can hear—"
"Well you'll just have to be very quiet, won't you?" Erik says with a smirk as he slides down to his knees in front of Charles, making sure to drag his full body against him all the way down. Or you can just make them all not hear. He rubs his cheek against Charles' crotch pointedly.
"This is unfair," Charles says weakly after a moment, and Erik grins up at him. The telepath is flushed beneath his mask, and his eyes, normally clear and blue, are nearly black with lust, pupils blown wide. He's leaning back against the door now as if his life depends on it, so Erik slides his hands up the telepath's thighs to frame his hips, splaying his fingers out across Charles' waist and pressing down, holding him in place.
"I don't see anything wrong," Erik says smugly, using his powers to undo Charles' belt and pull down his pants with the help of his zipper, dragging his underwear down as well. Charles' cock is fully hard now, so it's a small matter to lean forward and lick at the head, teasing the slit with his tongue.
"Oh god—Erik!" Charles throws his head back, hitting the door with a thud. Erik feels his hips try to jerk forward but he keeps them pressed down relentlessly.
"Better make sure they can't hear you, Professor," Erik says silkily and then licks a long, wet stripe up the underside of Charles' cock.
Charles moans, shuddering, and when Erik glances up at him he's got his eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a soundless gasp as his chest heaves for breath. Erik licks back down Charles' length, and then sucks the head into his mouth, running his tongue across the slit again and again, listening as Charles' breathy moans fill the bathroom, echoing slightly.
He pulls back off with a wet slurp. "So nice of Tony to let us keep our date. For a we-just-saved-the-world-again blowjob."
"Fuck," Charles gasps out raggedly, clearly frustrated, "if I have to hear about Tony while you—"
Erik swallows him down whole, grinning as much as he can when Charles makes a high, needy sound, hips trying to thrust up reflexively beneath Erik's hands. Erik takes him in all the way to the root and then moans loudly, letting the sound vibrate within his throat, and Charles gives a wrecked gasp, straining.
"Erik, Erik, oh god—"
Erik bobs his head, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucks, working Charles up into a frenzy as the telepath scrabbles at the door behind him, stuck in place as Erik works to drive him mad—taking him in as deep as possible before pulling almost completely off, curling his tongue across Charles' flesh as he slides his head back and forth, the salty taste of Charles' precome permeating his mouth as he sucks the telepath off.
Charles gives a loud cry as he comes, and Erik doesn't hesitate to swallow it all, throat working around Charles' flagging cock. He pulls off slowly, licking his lips. Charles is panting loudly, his shirt slightly damp with sweat.
Erik straightens, ignoring the burn in his knees as he slides back up Charles' body, settling his hands on the telepath's shoulders. Charles tilts his chin up for a kiss and Erik obliges, licking his way back into Charles' mouth. Charles' telepathy a warm, low hum in the back of his mind, sated.
"My opinion of Starbucks is rising by the second," Erik murmurs when they break apart.
"Oh stop," Charles says, but he sounds far too lazily content for his words to hold any real bite. His hands are tracing down Erik's sides slowly, wandering further and further down.
"Coffee's probably waiting." Erik says, even though he doesn't give any sort of shit. He grins when Charles palms his erection, giving a slight hitch of breath. "Coffee's probably cold."
"Fuck the coffee," Charles says, and then his hands come up to grab Erik by the lapels, maneuvering him around so that their positions are switched and Erik is leaning back against the door.
Erik grins again as he watches Charles sink down to his knees. "My sentiments exactly."