A/N : A sweet and fluffy flashforward for you, Petra :-D
1.
Erik had been convinced that somehow, despite the directions being very exact, he had got the wrong place. Looked around the pleasant, minimal interior and caught the eye of a waitress who bowed her head politely to him and showed him over to a table, set a little sake-warmer in front of him, left him in peace with the menu to worry to that he had absolutely come to the wrong restaurant. Outside the weather was turning from slush to genuine snow, and the warm, calming atmosphere inside seemed even more welcoming by comparison. According to the news, it was going to be one of the harshest winters on record, and he was already dreading the chills and the icy winds, considered going South for a while. Dismissed the idea as one that would feel like admitting he was getting on in years.
Within a few minutes, his fears had been allayed by the arrival of his son. Shrugging out of his long trench-coat, allowing the same waitress to take it to hang up for him, taking a while to unwind himself from the thick scarf and gloves, snuggling into his high collar. Winter wasn't kind to Peter, he hated the cold and come mid-September was always wrapped up in layers which would only be added to as the season wore on. Pulling the sleeves of his sweater over his fingers so that just the tips showed, a fond hug for his father that revealed the shivers running through him. Erik always worried about him being out in cold weather. Even though he was now in his mid-thirties, the paternal urge to remind him that he needed to keep warm was still strong.
"I was surprised about the choice of venue, dear boy" Erik told him, watched him scan the menu, "I didn't think sushi was much your style at all"
"It's not really, but you love it" Peter gave him a shy grin. That much was true, Erik did have a strange passion for sushi and sashimi, "I've already eaten, so the miniature food won't bother me. I thought it would be nice to go somewhere just for you"
Erik smiled warmly at him. Though physically he'd hardly aged, Peter seemed to have done so much growing up over the past decade that he was almost unrecognisible as the mess of emotional chaos that he'd been when he'd enrolled at the Academy all that time ago. Less flashy these days, more settled and perhaps a little more subdued, even more so after Xavier had finally given him permission to convert a disused wing of the Mansion into a full-scale new gymnasium, and take charge of the running himself. No longer in residence at the Academy himself, Erik had been proud to hear Charles' reports that Peter had been thorough, patient, and above all careful in his plans. Peter had been excitable as always about it, but those years of training had done his control good, and he'd somehow stood a full year of preparation before he had been able to finally welcome students in.
Ordering and settling down to wait, Erik thought he could detect a hint of nerves in his son's face. As if he'd arranged this meeting to discuss something that was bothering him. That would explain why he had deliberately chosen to come somewhere that appealed to his father more than himself, perhaps in an effort to get on his good side from the outset. It wouldn't have been necessary, but Erik appreciated the effort. His son had always been thoughtful, but the willingness to put himself out for others was all new.
"All going well in the new gym?" Erik asked. Peter grinned enthusiastically, nodded equally so
"It's going to be *amazing* when it's done, dude!" he gushed, "Just a couple little issues to fix, a little reinforcement in the sprung floor, that kinda stuff. Reckon I'll be up and running in another month. I can't wait"
"I bet you can't. I'm very proud of you, you know. I hope this turns out as well as you hope, you've worked extremely hard for it. There's something on your mind though, I can tell"
Peter put on his innocent face. After all these years, his youthful good-looks ensured that he could still look like a little boy whom butter wouldn't melt in the mouth of when he chose to. It had never worked on Erik, and now was no different.
"Oh come along, Peter. Don't give me Big Eyes, just tell me what's wrong"
"Seriously, Dadneto, it's nothing – oh hey, is that your order I see?"
"I'm not you, you can't distract me like that"
Nevertheless, their order was just about to arrive at the table, and they had made idle conversation for a while, impressed at the skill with which Peter could manage a pair of chopsticks – for some reason, Erik hadn't imagined it was something he could do, but it transpired that he could.
"Now *this* is the reason I don't mind sushi places" Peter smiled widely as the dessert menus were handed to them, "Bite-sized cakes. You can order like a whole plate of different ones – have you tried those gooey little balls? Those are amazing"
"You're not fooling me, you know" Erik raised an eyebrow at him, saw the guilty look pass across his face. All these years, he could still read his son like a book, "Order your dozen desserts, then we'll talk. Clear?"
"But Dad –"
"Peter, you're shaking"
"It's cold!"
"Not in here"
"Oh-KAY…" Peter sighed, "You got me. I need to talk to you about something"
He fished in the pockets of his oversized combat pants. Erik wondered how many pairs of jeans he had on under them to keep him warm. Came back with a little blue box with a suspiciously familiar logo embossed on the front. Very carefully slid it open, popped the velvet case inside, and displayed the contents to Erik. Inside, nestled in soft velveteen, was a delicate gold band set with three beautifully cut rose diamonds.
"Is that what I think it is?"
"As long as you think it's a Tiffany engagement ring, then yeah" Peter said quietly, snapped the case closed and returned it to the box and to his pocket, "So… whadd'ya think?"
Erik stared at him, then completely unexpectedly burst out laughing. Peter looked so nervous, so absolutely tortured in fact, that he could help but think he looked like a man contemplating a death sentence, rather than one who had an engagement ring in his pocket.
"As encouragement goes, that's kind of not what I'm after" Peter said darkly. Erik wiped his eyes, composed himself
"I'm so sorry Peter… it's just… well, I don't think I've ever seen you look so scared before. I assume that is to be given to Angela?"
"No, it's for Jubilee" he deadpanned, "Of course it's for Angie, Dad, we *have* been together over a decade. If I don't ask her soon she's going to think she'll die an old maid. Trouble is, I have no idea how to actually pop the question. Are you still supposed to kneel? Do you think she'll say yes? What if she says no, man, what do I do then?!"
"Peter, please…" Erik chuckled, "She will without a doubt accept your proposal. As to the rest, I don't know why you're asking me"
"You've been married!" he said, exasperated, shoved a whole green-tea mochi into his mouth and spoke a little muffled around it, "You MUST know how it's done!"
"Nina's mother and I married in a very small, quiet ceremony and a great hurry when she discovered that she was pregnant" Erik explained, "Planned marriages are something I have no experience with whatsoever, I'm afraid."
Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind and he reached out and seized Peter's hand just as he was reaching for another bite, holding his gaze hard
"You haven't… I mean, Angela's not….?"
"Oh my *god* Dad, no!" Peter exclaimed. Flushed scarlet to the roots of his hair, "Absolutely not! At least… I hope not. OK now I'm really scared, thanks"
"She would have told you, don't worry" Erik relaxed his grip, allowed Peter to reach for another mochi, "Good grief… you do know you're supposed to ask Max first?"
"Do people still do that?" Peter frowned, "Isn't that kinda old-fashioned?"
"No son of mine is marrying a girl without her father's permission" Erik said sternly, sipped the last of his sake, "If I know Max – and believe me, over the last few years, I consider that I have got to know him very well indeed – he will appreciate the courtesy of asking for his daughter's hand before you ask her"
"But what if *he* says no?"
"Oh Peter…." Erik sighed, waved the waitress over for the bill, "This simply isn't a conversation for dinner. Come on"
Having paid and shrugged back into their coats, Erik took his son's well-wrapped arm and led him out, steering him down the street a little further.
"Where are we going?" Peter asked, a little panicked, "I'm not seeing Max now dude, forget about it, I need time!"
"We are going," Erik said patiently, "To the nearest quiet bar, where you and I will have a civilised conversation over several drinks, and you will calm the bloody hell down about all of this so that we can make a plan"
"You need to drink to help me plan a wedding proposal?"
"No man in his right mind has ever planned one sober, Peter. Now come along. Let's get a few shots into you, see if you can't stop climbing the ceiling over a simple question."