Hello, my lovelies. This is my first official foray into the world of our lovely X-Men. Been a fan since the original trilogy, but all the teasers on Brian Singers Insta/FB have gotten my muses going. And thus this was born. It's a collection of drabbles from various prompts with varying rules all centered around the X-Men First Class crew. Features lots of Cherik and domestic X-Men, the Alex/Sean bromance, and all kinds of fluffy goodness.
I hope you enjoy, my dears!
Title: Terms of Endearment
Prompt: Adorable Cherik Fluff
Pairing(s): Cherik
Features: Charles and Erik
Word Count: 100
Terms of Endearment
He had called Charles adorable. Technically, he had called the telepath an "adorable lab rat," but adorable nonetheless. The ease with which the endearment rolled off his tongue, the way he said it without having to think about it, the warmth of teasing Charles – it should have concerned him, or in the very least, surprised him. But it didn't. Because though the two mutants had known each other but a few short days, Erik knew Charles never quite smiled at anyone else the way that Charles smiled at him, and Charles knew Erik had never had a closer friend.
Title: House Rules
Prompt: The kids keep running in on Erik and Charles having sex at the X mansion.
Pairing(s): Cherik
Features: Charles, Erik, Alex, Sean, & Hank
Word Count: 100
House Rules
The boys were implementing some house rules after a few unfortunate mishaps with Charles and Erik.
First rule: "When you two are alone, just lock the damn door." Because one time Sean went to grab a soda in the kitchen and got an eyeful. "Damn my near-perfect vision."
Second rule: "No dudes within earshot." Because one time Alex was startled awake by Charles' screaming and Erik's dirty mouth. "Fuckin' gross."
Last rule: "Please, just don't if I'm on the same floor of the house." Because of every. single. time. Apparently, Hank's new "Beast" abilities included heightened senses. "I beg you."
Title: Sorry-I-Almost-Killed-You Flowers
Prompt: Erik's and Charles's first reunion after the events at the beach in Cuba.
Pairing(s): Cherik
Features: Charles and Erik
Word Count: 500
Sorry-I-Almost-Killed-You Flowers
"They're the best I can do." He dropped the bundle unceremoniously onto the hospital bed, not quite able to look Charles in the eye, who had been stunned silent the moment Erik appeared in the doorway. "Whatever that counts for. 'Sorry I almost killed you, have some fucking flowers.' Because nothing makes up for it, does it?"
Erik finally found the courage to gaze into those stunning blue eyes. "And nothing ever will."
His jaw clenched, and he had to swallow or clear his throat or do something other than stare at the sheer shock on Charles' face. Was it really such a surprise that Erik had returned? Like he'd had a choice in the matter. He hadn't been able to get the telepath off his mind since he left that damn beach. Every little thing reminded him of Charles throughout the day, and to sleep was even worse.
Every night, it was the same dream. Charles peering up at him full of sadness and betrayal. His shaking hands cradling Charles' head in the sand. The back of Charles' neck slick with sweat, little wisps of hair curling around Erik's fingers. "I'm sorry, my friend..." Charles had said, and just what the hell did Charles have to be sorry for? It was his fault that Charles was now paralyzed.
His fault, and Charles had apologized—and it had damn near killed Erik to hear it.
Then, there was Raven. He could hardly stand to look at Charles' adopted sister anymore. Which only caused her to gaze at him like a wounded puppy. Which only reminded him of Charles even more.
"T-thank you. They're lovely." Charles lifted the flowers to his nose.
"Don't fucking thank me for the flowers, Charles," Erik growled. "And don't-" He broke off in a huff. "I didn't—I shouldn't have left you there. Charles, I was...lost. Killing Shaw, it-"
"I know," said Charles softly. And he did know. He always knew with Erik—without ever having to use his gift. "I know, my friend."
"Are we friends, Charles? We want different things, after all."
The corners of Charles' lips lifted into a soft smile. "I'm not sure we do, Erik." The gentle, teasing note in the telepath's voice broke him. With a strangled laugh, Erik closed his eyes and was consumed by guilt and regret. "I just wanted you by my side. We were supposed to be in this together. You and I-"
"Fighting the good fight?" Charles grinned. "I'm afraid I won't be doing much fighting anymore."
Erik's heart thumped. Suddenly, his feet carried him to Charles' side. He rested his hand delicately on the bed-rail near the telepath's. Erik tapped his long fingers, brushing their tips along the tender inside of Charles' wrist. "Then, I shall fight for you."
The telepath lifted his hand to Erik's. Pale fingers wrapped around his own, and Charles gave an affectionate squeeze. "And if I don't want you to fight anymore?"
A smirk twisted Erik's lips. "Tough...I'll always fight for you."
Title: This Isn't My Bed
Prompt: The character gets drunk and mistakenly goes to sleep in someone else's bed. Leads to funny/sexy times.
Pairing(s): Cherik
Features: Charles and Erik
Word Count: 500
This Isn't My Bed
He polished off the beer, the brew sliding over his tongue and down his throat, before he chunked the bottle in the recycling bin – Charles insisted they do their part. It had been such a grueling day. Honestly, teenagers were exhausting. And Erik wanted nothing more than to pass out at the moment.
He took the stairs two at a time navigating the maze that was the Xavier Mansion until he came to the long hallway where his and Charles' rooms were located—all the while cursing the ridiculous size of his friend's home. "Bloody half-mile trek...such hardship...couldn't possibly have..."
The light was off in his room, and Erik didn't notice the shoes in front of the door until he was tripping over them and falling on his face. He let out a surprised gasp, and then grunted as he collided painfully with the hardwood floor, all awkward elbows and knees, squishing the shoe with his nose and cheek. "Bleeding hell," he growled, shoving the damned thing out of his way. "I didn't leave that there..."
A sudden rustling caught the mutant's attention. His head whipped up toward the source of the noise, and very quickly, Erik was on his feet. "Who's there?"
An incoherent moaning rose in response to his question, and Erik used his mutation to pull down the chord of every lamp in his bedroom. As he suspected, there was someone in his private quarters – and that someone was Charles Xavier.
The telepath was sprawled diagonally across Erik's bed, feet dangling off the corner furthest from Erik, face smushed and scrunched against Erik's pillow. And he was shirtless. "Oi, Raven, turn off the lights, yeah?" the Brit grumbled, fingers fisting in the bed sheets.
Erik couldn't have been more surprised if Sebastian Shaw had turned himself over to the United States government. He couldn't stop the barking laugh that tore from his throat. The raucous chuckle was enough to jolt Charles awake. The telepath yanked his head off the pillow, wincing in the light. "E-Erik? What...what're you doing n'here?"
"I could asked you the same thing, Charles," the mutant grinned, eyebrows raising saucily. "You know, if you wanted in my bed, all you had to do was ask."
"Your...what?" Propping up on his elbows, Charles surveyed the pillows and headboard, his face drawn in confusion. He sat up at bit further, gaze flickering about the room. Then, he realized, "This isn't my bed."
Erik smirked. "Afraid not."
Wincing in embarrassment, Charles rubbed his eyes with one hand and apologized. "I'm sorry, my friend. It appears I may have had one too many tonight." When Erik raised his brow, the telepath looked properly abashed, adding, "Alright, a few too many, and stumbled into the wrong room."
"I'll say."
"Right," Charles flushed a delightful shade of pink. "I'll, uh, I'll just be going then. Do you...see my shirt?"
"You know, you're welcome to stay," Erik flashed a suggestive smirk, kicking off his shoes. "Don't leave on my account."
Title: Mr. Whiskers' Big Win
Prompt: Domestic fluff in which Erik finds a scraggly, abandoned cat and can relate to being alone and unloved. He was saved by Charles, so he decides to save the cat, and the X kids love it. Only Charles is allergic.
Pairing(s): Cherik
Features: Charles, Erik, Raven, Alex, & Sean
Word Count: 500
Mr. Whiskers' Big Win
It was noted that the mansion's stock of vanilla-bean ice cream had been depleted via Sean's ear-splitting, window-shaking screech at exactly 10:43 a.m. that morning.
Charles groaned, hand paused mid-flip as he shuffled a stack of paperwork. "Not again. Erik, would you please?"
Erik frowned. "Send the kid. Banshee can go if he wants his ruddy ice cream so terribly."
"Right," Charles laughed. "Send Sean. With the cheques."
And so Erik begrudgingly wound up at Cosco at 11:00 a.m. in search of Sean's not-so-guilty pleasure.
Returning to the mansion an hour later, Erik carried a small animal crate and a large paper sack. He dropped the bag on the foyer floor, kneeling to open the crate as Raven skirted by. "Oooh, what's that?"
Flashing a brilliant grin, Erik politely informed her that he had "found a friend." He released the crate door and out slunk the skinniest cat Raven had ever seen. The orange feline meowed and stretched, and Raven fell in love instantly, squealing and collapsing to her knees to stroke the kitty atop it's round head. "It's so cute, Erik! But the poor thing looks like it's never been fed."
"He. He's a boy," Erik said. He gestured the brown bag. "I got him plenty of food. And a few playthings."
"Erik! I had no idea you were such an animal lover."
"M'not really, but the little fucker wouldn't stop following me in the car park. And you're right, he's bloody starved. And well...even I'm not that heartless."
"Charles is going to die."
"Really?" Erik's grin grew a little wider. Raven snickered, "Oh, yeah. Charles-"
The professor appeared at the top of the stairs. "Charles what?" the telepath asked before his nose scrunched, and he sneezed harshly. "Apologies." Another sneeze. "Huh. Must be those dusty, old books I'm always buried under."
Erik smirked as he was suddenly flooded with images of Charles buried under all sorts of things, namely himself.
"Or it could be..." Raven began, gazing down at the scraggly kitten. Charles gave a third, quite violent sneeze, and a comical mixture of horror and realization dawned on Erik's face, "Oh, no."
Charles came to a violent halt midway down the staircase. "What the bloody hell is that?"
"That's Mr. Whiskers," Raven chimed cheerfully. "Erik found him."
"His name is not Mr. Whiskers." Erik corrected, then looked at Charles sheepishly. "I didn't know you were allergic."
"Hey, cool cat," Alex murmured as he and Sean strolled through the foyer. Charles was quick to correct the young mutant, "That is no cat, Alex. That is a-a-" Sneeze. "-a bloody hell beast!"
"Did'ja get the ice cream?" Sean asked, completely unfazed by what would eventually be referred to as the cat-fiasco of '64.
Erik stiffened and didn't answer.
Sean cursed.
Mr. Whiskers—fuck, his name was not Mr. Whiskers—coiled through Erik's legs, nuzzling his knee appreciatively. Erik stroked behind the cat's ears, smirking. "So I picked up a hell beast instead of getting groceries. Sue me."
Charles frowned and sneezed.
Title: I Don't Want a Bloody Cocktail
Prompt: Charles gets jealous. Cherik.
Pairing(s): Cherik
Features: Charles and Erik
Word Count: 500
I Don't Want a Bloody Cocktail
They had to do a bit of waiting at the upscale gentleman's club before they met with the lovely mutant named Angel. She was preoccupied with clients, so Charles and Erik lounged at a plush, round table in the back corner. Charles sipped on cocktails, Erik had a few Gin Rickeys, and gradually, an hour passed.
When they finally slipped over to the bar and coaxed Angel into a private room, Erik charmed her with his ability and she delighted them with hers. The days' cocktails held Charles to that bed, his legs saddled along side Erik's. The cocktails loosened his tongue when he cheekily asked the young female mutant a question about jobs and clothes, and they influenced his good judgment when Erik snickered and flashed Charles a brilliant grin that really made Charles want to peek into Erik's mind and see just why Erik always smiled so wide.
After Angel had agreed to serve their cause, Erik suggested that he and Charles not leave the club so soon, but linger a while longer and enjoy the view. Charles, warmed by his drinks, had laughed and weakly protested, eyes flickering about the room at all the scantily clad women who, by God, really knew how to dance. Then, he and Erik were back at their table and Charles waved over a server to take another drink order.
The server approached, one of two male employees in the entire joint. And when the male server grinned like a fox at Erik, repeating their order in a too-teasing, too-familiar tone, Charles realized with a start that the exotic female dancers weren't the view to which Erik had been referring at all.
Suddenly filled with an indignant rage, Charles bolted from their table, nearly knocking over two chairs and a lamp. Erik became alarmed. "Charles, what's the matter? Aren't you going to finish your cocktail?"
Charles glared at Erik and his stupid male server. "I don't want a bloody cocktail!"
He stormed out of the gentleman's club.
Erik followed immediately, seizing Charles by the elbow just as he reached the door of the club. "What's the matter, Charles? What happened?"
"I didn't know you were..." Charles tore off angrily.
Homosexual. The word hung between them.
Erik raised a smooth, calculated brow, "I didn't know it matter."
"Of course, it matters! I mean, it doesn't, but..." Erik's every thought came at him all at once. Charles felt the sting and betrayal, felt Erik locking down and shutting him out, and very abruptly, Charles felt sober and silly. Blushing, he looked at his shoes. "...he wasn't all that attractive, you know."
Charles felt Erik's confusion, and then, his eventual understanding. But Charles couldn't look at him.
"No? You don't think so?" There was a lightness in Erik's voice, a gentle teasing, and Charles caught the happy warmth smolder inside Erik's chest, and fuck if Charles didn't love being a telepath when Erik grinned and thought, Well enough. I have a thing for brunettes, anyhow.
Title: Angel Wings
Prompt: Charles decides to do a little baking. Erik decides to interupt. Turns into fluffy goodness with flour-covered noses and cute aprons.
Pairing(s): Cherik
Features: Charles and Erik
Word Count: 500
Angel Wings
It was the smell of them that brought his steps to a halt outside of the kitchen. He sniffed again, surely mistaken, but stepped inside to check – just in case. It was Charles who was cooking that day, and at the sound of the door, the telepath spun around, eyes growing wide. "Erik! What're you doing here? You aren't due home until three."
Stunned, Erik couldn't reply, but laughed and grinned. The sight of Charles in a cook's apron, oven mitt on his left hand, a dust of white powder on his nose and across his cheek, was simply too much for Erik to handle. Christ, Charles was adorable.
"I didn't know you cook."
Charles flushed pink. "I don't. At least not well, I'm afraid."
"What are you making, Charles?"
The tone in Erik's voice was enough to tell Charles that the mutant was suspicious. That the jig was up. Charles' blush deepened, and he flashed Erik an embarrassed glance. He turned back to the stove, grabbing the pan of cookies. "This was just the test batch. Like I said, I hadn't expected you would return quite so soon and well..."
Erik's chest tightened. He very suddenly found it difficult to breathe yet somehow managed to force out the question: "Charles, what are those?"
"Um, well, they're supposed to be Chrusciki, or-"
"Angel Wings," Erik whispered. The sight of the fried, golden pastries coated lightly with confectioner's sugar made Erik's gaze sting. He swallowed, took a slow breath, and lifted one of the cookies from the tray. He examined it with moist eyes and told Charles, "My mother...she used to make these for me and my schoolmates every Hanukkah...they made us feel like men because she always made them with brandy."
Charles watched his friend stare wistfully at the Polish pastry. There were few things in life that Charles enjoyed more than the sight of Erik when he reflected on the good memories that remained of his mother. They possessed Erik, filled him with some otherworldliness, some great warmth, like magic. And then the memory would pass and world-weary Erik would return, and Charles would love him all the same.
After a moment passed, Charles spoke softly, "You're welcome to try them, but I doubt they'll be very good."
Erik met Charles' gaze. There were truly no words to describe his feelings for Charles at present. But that was the great thing about Charles – he had no need for words. Erik could feel Charles in his mind – the telepath always let Erik know when he was in his head – and Erik summoned together the emotions swirling inside of him and pushed them hard against Charles' mind. Erik smiled fondly, gratefully at his dear friend, "Thank you, brother. You did not have to do this."
"I know." Charles' lips rose in a gentle smile. "I wanted to."
Erik brushed the bits of powdered sugar from Charles' nose and cheek tenderly.
He took a bite of the Chrusciki.
Drabbles will be added in new chapters sporadically as I come across new prompts/am inspired by my muses.
Hope you've enjoyed.