Charles frowned at the large platter of brownies on the desk in front of him. He had confiscated the confectionary from Sean and Alex's room earlier in the day after an 'anonymous' tip-off by Hank, worried that mice would get into the house- he didn't want to have to deal with pest control on top of repairing the damage from mis-aimed energy blasts and sonic screams. When Charles and Erik had questioned the boys (Good-Cop-Bad-Cop style, no prizes for guessing who had been who), they had admitted that they had been baked by a girl they had met in town. Charles had given them a long lecture on taking gifts from strangers and then taken the brownies away.

He stared at them now, pondering what to do. He could always throw them away, of course, but he didn't like to do that; while he may have been a privileged rich kid, he liked to think he had not been raised to be wasteful.

They looked nice, truthfully. Moist and warm from laying in the sun streaming in the window, a deep, velvety brown, Charles could feel his mouth starting to water. It had been a long time since breakfast, he thought. A snack certainly wouldn't hurt- in fact, the spike it would cause in his blood sugar would probably make him feel better.

He looked around self-consciously, making sure the door was closed, and then tore of the corner of the closest brownie and popped it in his mouth.

A low moan broke from his lips as his eyes fluttered closed. He could taste the sugar and the batter in the small crumbs, the soft, chewy fragments sweet and delicious on the tip of his tongue. There were small chunks of chocolate still in the brownie and they melted inside the dark cavern of his mouth, spreading out around his tastebuds.

It was the best damn brownie that he had ever eaten. Greedily he dug into the pile, trying to quench his sudden and unsatisfiable hunger. They were amazing. They were delicious. They were SO FUCKING GOOD...!

Erik was downstairs lifting weights without touching them when a voice suddenly blasted into his thoughts.

Erik! I need you upstairs, quickly!

The weights fell to the ground with a clang, no doubt damaging the long-suffering wooden floorboards. Erik raced up to Charles' office, panic building in his chest: Was it Shaw? Were the kids okay? Was the government coming to take them?

He burst into the room. "Charles! What is it, what's wrong?"

The telepath was slouched low in his leather armchair, a nearly-empty silver platter in front of him. His mouth was spotted with brown crumbs and grinning widely. He let out a giggle, waving his hands in front of him loosely.

"Nothing, nothing, just... Oh my God, Erik, you have to try these, they're AMAZING!"

Erik blinked, taking a moment to notice that Charles was gesticulating with a large brownie clutched in his fist. He frowned.

"Are those the sweets we confiscated from Alex and Sean this morning?"

"YES!" Charles leaned forward across the desk, scattering paperwork onto the floor and sending ballpoint pens rolling. "They're so good, really, I think they might be the best thing I've ever eaten!"

"Really."

"You have no idea." He gasped suddenly. "We have to find the girl that made them!"

"What, the one who gave them to the boys?"

"Exactly!" He made a swipe at Erik across the desk, flailing in mid-air. "I think she may be a mutant! This is her GIFT, don't you see? The mutant gift... to make the best brownies known to man!"

"Come on, Charles, she was just some hippie..." He trailed off, realization dawning clear in his mind. "Oh."

"Erik, you need to eat these, they're magic!"

He reached over, grabbing Charles' chin in his hand and examining his eyes. They were wide, the pupils blown and dilated. "You're high!"

The telepath looked down in confusion. "No, I'm sitting down."

Sighing, Erik shook his head. "No, Charles, you don't understand. There was marijuana in the brownies." He flicked his wrist, bringing the platter into the air and floating it away from Charles' scrabbling hands. "Christ, you've eaten half the plate."

Charles frowned, falling back into his armchair. "Wait, so, I'm stoned?"

"Off your tits."

"Huh." He thought hard for a second, then let out a titter. "You said 'tits'."

Erik buried his face in his hands, only peeking out when he heard slurping. Charles was sucking hard on his chocolate stained fingers, licking his palms like a particularly fastidious cat that had just accidentally inhaled an entire bottle of lager and swaying slightly in his seat. It was more than slightly obscene. Erik groaned.

Charles released his ring finger from his mouth with a loud pop, laughing. "You're thinking about me! That's so nice! I want EVERYONE to know how nice you are!"

Erik lunged at his friend, knocking him to the floor. "Charles, NO!"

It was too late. A particularly vivid image of Charles sprawled naked and covered in melted chocolate on a red satin bedspread suddenly sprang into the heads of everyone within a five mile radius. The horrified screams of several young people rang out through the halls of the mansion.

Lying on a tangle of limbs on the floor, Charles tried to nuzzle Erik's neck and missed completely, smearing chocolate crumbs on his shirt. "I love you."

Erik sighed and tamped down on the urge to throttle Charles. "I love you too."