The Most Awkward...
Taken as a prompt from It's Rayning who wrote back when I kindly asked for a prompt to get me through this...block. This is the prompt: Charles and Erik have never been on a date before, I believe. So maybe the children suggest that to Erik, or maybe just bugs him over and over until he finally gives and asks Charles? And then the awkward, blushy date? xD
So, to tweak it a little, I'm pulling dear Charles and dear Erik out of the 60's and placing them vaguely in our time...not as college students, because, well, I've read a lot of AU stories with our heroes as college students and while I am not that far off from my college days (Well, maybe I am. Get off my yard, you damn kids!) I just didn't want to write them as college students.
And yes, this remains painfully unbeta'ed...meaning I know there are plot holes, choices that the characters wouldn't make etc. And for that I sincerely apologize.
Anyway, I own nothing.
Time when Charles met Erik
Part One
Charles Xavier, recently of Westchester, New York, by way of Oxford, England stepped onto the ship - awkwardly. He was unbalanced, dizzy and terribly, terribly awkward. He had been drinking, you see - something his little sister, Raven, warned him not to do before boarding the large ship bound for North America and all things New York City.
"Charles," Raven said narrowing her blue eyes, "you shouldn't be drinking before you step onto a very large ship. A ship that will be rocking, mind you." Her hands were on her hips. She had just come home from her waitressing job and was busy surveying the mess that she was supposed to be packing.
"I'm celebrating, my dear, dear sister," came Charles fuzzy supply.
"Dear, dear brother," Raven retorted, "you've been 'celebrating' since last week. Wouldn't it be nice to give your liver a break?" Despite having lived in England for nearly four years, Raven never lost her American accent, while Charles couldn't seem to shake the English accent that had completely obliterated his American one. It was only during times like this, which really were few and far between, that Raven adopted the English accent, if only to slightly mock her older brother.
Charles just merely smiled at his sister sloppily and took another swig straight from the whiskey bottle. Raven rolled her eyes as her brother blew raspberries at her from the kitchen table.
"You'll be sorry," she said in a sing-song voice as she went about her task. Raven, like Charles, had just graduated from college and was heading back to the United States to pursue a master's degree in political science. While Charles, had just successfully defended his thesis and was being offered a position at NYU teaching genetics to medical students.
Charles couldn't say no. He had been giddy since the offer came through, hence the drinking. He just couldn't help himself really. Since coming to England, he had been virtually a hermit plowing through his studies like there was no tomorrow. He enjoyed it greatly, but near the end, just wanted to be done with it.
Raven just sighed and shook her head. "I'm soooo glad I'm not traveling with you," she muttered.
"And I'm sooooo glad to be traveling by myself," slurred Charles. He dropped his bottle of whiskey and stood behind his sister, hugged her hard and burying his face in her shoulders. "Idon'," Charles said in one long rush of words before promptly letting her go and falling down clumsily on to their sofa with a silly smile on his face.
Raven sighed again. "I love you too, Charles," she said and tucked a blanket around him as he promptly fell asleep.
Charles groaned as he was getting his sea legs. Why does the ship need to move so bloody much? The ship was not helping his balance, what with the rolling this way and that way. He managed to grip the side rails and steady himself. He could see his sister waving madly from the pier of Southampton. She was obviously yelling something to him, but for the life of him, Charles could not make out what she was saying. He couldn't concentrate hard enough to focus his attention on his beloved sister. So, he merely waved, adjusted his dark sunglasses that hid the brighter parts of the day and concentrated on finding his damn balance.
But it was just not meant to be.
The minute he let go of the railing to find his room, Charles immediately stumbled left and into the arms of a taller man. The other man grunted, catching most of Charles' weight and set him carefully against the wall of the deck.
"Are you okay," the other man asked peering down at the hung over man. Charles could not see the other man's face. It was just too much to do so.
"Yep, thanks for asking," Charles murmured adjusting his sunglasses again. Damn things want to slide off my face. The other man was still there looking at Charles with an amused expression on his face.
"You don't seem like it," he merely said, there was an undeniable amused tone in his slightly accented voice.
Finally, Charles looked up at the kind (and slightly irritating) man and was met with a pair of fantastically blue eyes – bluer than even his own – they were more a dark and stormy blue than his own bright crystalline eyes. Charles felt his breathe catch in his throat and the other man merely raised an eyebrow. The man was dressed in head to toe black with a trench coat hanging crisply from his arm. Charles felt his face go red.
"I...um..." Charles was a font of words while he desperately tried to regain his sense of being. It was impossible though with his sudden attraction to the man standing in front of him.
"Would you like some help?" The man with the stormy eyes asked him. Damn, he looked good and Charles…well, poor Charles was just feeling rumpled.
Charles merely nodded, suddenly feeling very awkward indeed. Awkward and rumpled. He sighed internally and wanted to throw himself off the boat in the hopes that this was all a dream.
"Erik Lehnsherr," said the man with the stormy eyes. He extended his hand out to Charles.
"Charles Xavier," Charles replied and shook Erik's hand. Charles felt, no knew that he was delusional. Erik's hands felt like they were throwing off heat. And they were somehow soft and hard at the same time. How does one have hands like that? Charles merely smiled at the man and took off his sunglasses - Damn things were making me look silly anyway - and Charles could have sworn that Erik inhaled sharply. His too bright (if slightly wide) eyes met Erik's eyes.
They stared at each other for half a minute before Erik cleared his throat. Charles, for his part, thought that maybe, just maybe he felt Erik's sudden lust for him. But he was not quite certain, all things considered.
Erik then smiled at him. How can one man have so many teeth? "Pleasure to meet you, Charles Xavier," Erik said softly. "This must be your room," he said quickly glancing up at the placard. How did they get to his room so quickly?
"Oh, right, yes," Charles said fumbling for his key card.
"I'm sure I'll see you around," Erik said and bowed slightly - Who bows nowadays? - before turning around and going the way they had come from. Charles could only stare at Erik's retreating back, noting the way his backside looked in his tight black pants. Charles frowned and shook his head.
"Steady, Charles, steady," he murmured. "No need to jump into something so...ill fated." He sighed and idly thought of Erik in bed before stumbling into his room and thankfully collapsing onto his bed.
"Oh, damn it Charles!" Raven stamped her feet in frustration. "You forgot your passport," she said and tucked the document into her coat.
The first few days out of Southampton were the worst for Charles. All he could do was lie on his bed and try not to dry heave every few minutes. He desperately wished his sister were with him but remembered that Raven would be following him back to New York City in a month. Instead, he ordered room service and ate what he could.
The third day out to sea, Charles finally felt better, if still rumpled, pale and a little worse for the wear. He ventured out to the promenade and carefully strolled along the deck. He was not sure of his footing and wanted to be close to a wall before exploring the rest of the ship.
A slightly familiar voice appeared at his elbow. "Well, I didn't think you would make it out of your cabin," came the amused voice.
Charles turned his head, not trusting himself and was once again greeted by Erik Lehnsherr's dark blue eyes. Charles could only blink dumbly at the man. Erik smiled wider at him, turning Charles into a puddle.
"Yes, well, here I am," Charles finally said, finding his voice.
"Yes, here you are," Erik said amiably. They started walking, slowly for Charles' benefit, on the deck enjoying the sun and the slight breeze coming from the ocean. "The Bay of Biscay is atrocious to sail through. You were not the only one out of commission. Our entire table seemed to be wiped out by the Bay," Erik finally said breaking the comfortable silence that had descended on them.
Charles blinked again. "Our table?"
"Oh, yes. We are seated at the same table. I asked our waiter, Fernando, who else was at the table and when he mentioned your name, I was quite relieved," he said gesturing slightly.
"You were?" Charles could not get more out than just two words. It seemed that this Erik Lehnsherr had stolen all his words from him. Raven would have been shocked. Never had Charles Xavier been at a loss for words.
Never.
"Yes, I don't quite like having to introduce myself over and over again," he said. "I'm a tad bit shy."
"You're shy? That can't be!" Charles said and before he could stop himself, added, "You're much too handsome to be shy!" Charles horrified, clamped his hands over his mouth and turning a fantastic shade of red.
Erik merely laughed and said, "Thank you…and you are much too handsome yourself to be hiding in your cabin." The tips of his ears went a pale pink. What Charles wouldn't have done to lick those ears.
"Erik! There you are! Mother was worried about you," a blonde woman said appearing to Erik's left. Two men crashed into their stopped wives when the blonde appeared. Their wives were none too thrilled, naturally.
"Mother is a worrywart," Erik said fondly. "Emma, this is Charles. Charles, this is my sister Emma," Erik said making introductions. "He is one of the missing at our table," Erik winked, actually winked at Charles.
Emma turned her attention to Charles and smiled at him warmly. "Will you be joining us tonight then? It's so dull with only Mother and Erik there. It will be nice to have someone else to talk to." Off in the distance, Charles noticed a large pot bellied man staring obviously at Emma. Emma noticed and shot a frosty glare in his direction.
Charles, finally finding his voice said, "of course. My apologies for not being there any sooner…I was indisposed."
Emma only laughed and said, "That's code for 'sick to your stomach.'" She winked at Charles and started to pull Erik away. "Come now, Mother wants to speak with you."
Erik sighed and said, "If she starts talking about getting married and having children, I will runaway." Charles' heart sank a little.
"Oh, Erik," Emma said hugging her brother, "Mother just wants you to be happy. You know that."
Erik just sighed and nodded. "Yes, yes, I know." Erik turned to Charles and smiled brightly again at him. "We'll see you at dinner, yes?"
"Yes," came Charles reply.
Emma did not miss look the two men shared. She merely smiled at the younger man and dragged her brother off. Charles stood at the deck and watched them go. Before rounding the corner, Emma shot Charles a look that was clearly intrigued, amused and a bit calculating.
Charles had found a quiet sunny spot on the top most level of the cruise ship. He had just closed his eyes, his book at his side when he heard a throat being cleared. He opened his eyes and quirked an eyebrow at Emma.
"Miss Lehnsherr?"
"Technically, it's Miss Frost. But please, call me Emma," she said and sat down on the empty lounge chair beside Charles.
"Emma," Charles said smiling. He desperately wanted to know where her brother was but managed to keep the question unasked.
Emma settled on the lounge chair and pointedly ignored the stares coming from the other men on the deck with them. Charles merely smiled again; idly comparing her to the other woman he had slept with in the past. Not that there were many, mind you, but enough not to make him a complete and utter sexual hermit. While he found her very attractive, Emma was certainly not his cup of tea. Apparently, he thought suddenly, that men might be his cup of tea. The thought did not appall him, just intrigued him. Apparently, not all men attracted his attention…just one in particular. He caught Emma staring at him with a slight smile on her face.
"You like my brother," she said matter-of-factly. She smiled warmly at Charles as he sputtered his drink all over himself. "I'll take that as a yes," she said patting him gently on the arm. "This is unfamiliar territory, I take it?"
"Is it that obvious?" Charles sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"Yes, but only slightly." Here Emma frowned, "What are you going to do when we disembark in New York City?"
"I am taking a teaching position with NYU teaching genetics. Why?"
"I love my brother dearly, despite his faults," she smiled at that, "and if you two are going to pursue a relationship – "
"Now, just wait a second, Emma! One, we just met; two, I have no idea if he's interested in me and three…three…well, I don't have a third. But still!" Charles may not be a native Englishman, but he is certainly acting more English than American.
Emma laughed out right, garnering the attention of more besotted men around them. "Oh, Charles, Erik is interested. Just you wait and see at dinner time! Mother will be just beside herself!"
Oh, dear.
Needless to say, Charles was a wreck the entire time after his conversation with Emma Frost and dinner with Erik's family. He ran a hand through his hair, frowned when he realized that he had messed up his hair and then got up to re-fix said messy hair. Next to him, his phone began ringing insistently.
"Hello?" he said through gritted teeth. Why wouldn't his hair behave? Was it so difficult to lie flat in one direction?
"Charles?" Was the crackly response on the other end; Charles frowned again. That voice was familiar… "Charles? Can you hear me? It's Raven."
"Oh, Raven! Hello! How did you get through? Why didn't you call me on my cell phone?" Charles had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Raven sighed on the other end of the phone. "Because, my darling brother, you left your phone here…along with your passport."
"What?"
"That's what I was trying to yell at you, dodo brains," she said huffing.
"Oh, good Lord," Charles said smacking his forehead in frustration. "If it's not one thing, it's something else." Raven did not miss her brother's tone of voice.
"What do you mean?" She asked. Charles sighed and explained his current predicament. "Oh, Charles, what are you going to do? You can't honestly build a relationship with someone you met on a boat."
"Darling girl, if I survive this dinner tonight then I will think about what may or may not happen in the future. In the meantime, I have to figure out how to get my passport before arriving in New York City," Charles sighed dramatically. "Be a dear and call up the American Embassy and ask them for advice. My head just hurts too damn much right now."
"How do you get into these situations?" Raven chuckled fondly. "What I wouldn't give to see this dinner, right now."
"You are not helping matters," Charles said feeling his jaws lock.
"Stop locking your jaws, Charles. It'll only give you a headache," Raven said almost instantly. Charles could only glare at the receiver in his hand. "And stop glaring at me. It doesn't suit you." Charles sighed. "Okay, what are you wearing?"
"What am I wearing? What does it matter?"
"It matters very much, you brat! Now, tell me what you're wearing," Raven commanded her big brother. After an hour on the phone with his sister, she deemed him fit to go to dinner.
"Now, how exactly do you know what I'm wearing?"
"Oh, well, I did pack your suitcase for you," Raven said smugly.
"I think I hate you," Charles said.
"No. No, you don't," she responded, blew him a kiss through the phone and promptly hung up on him.
Charles looked at himself in the mirror and wanted to throw himself off the side of the boat…again.
Reviews are sweet. Gentle criticisms are sweet and cold...my favorite kind of dessert. )
I'm halfway through the second chapter and the other chapters won't stop bugging me. Hey, it's my first multi-chapter story!