Prompt: LOVE your blog so much! Please write one where Charles and Erik are left to babysit little mutant babies, I can just imagine Erik going all frantic! xx -much love.
Charles was used to being asked to speak all around the world. After all, he was the expert in his field. And Erik was used to tagging along. After all, someone had to make sure Charles went to sleep at some point instead of staying up all night studying and prepping his presentations.
Charles talked to all sorts of audiences – students, professors, adults, teenagers, humans, mutants – all the time…but he never been invited to a preschool class before. That was definitely a first.
They arrived loaded with charts and pictures and copies of Charles' thesis. The kids were running around helter-skelter, climbing over desks and each other.
Their teacher, a harried human who looked to be just about at her wit's end – met them with an expression that was half-grimace, half-grin. "I'm so glad you're here, Professor Xavier. And you are…?" she asked, glancing distractedly at Erik.
"Erik. I'm…er…his assistant. He's got the brains, and I help him carry the stuff."
"Are you a mutant too?"
"Oh – I …um, yes."
"Good!" The teacher cried. "Honestly, I don't even care anymore. I just wanted to get someone who could relate to them and talk to them about what it means to be a mutant – obviously, I have no clue – and at this point, I'll be happy with whatever you can pull off. World-renowned professor or not, just make them listen! Make them understand!" She stared wildly at Charles and Erik for a moment, and then made a run for the door. "I need a minute," she gasped. "I'll be right back. Watch them, won't you?"
Erik moved to follow her, but Charles grabbed his arm, nearly dropping all of his supplies. "Let her go. She needs a break."
"Charles, what are we supposed to do with these…things? Kids hate me! Animals hate me! Everyone hates me! Charles, I'm not cut out for this!"
Charles laughed. "Calm down. Just follow my lead."
There were about fifteen mutant preschoolers running about the room. One kept spitting fire and scorching the carpet; another was crying acidic tears that were burning holes through a desk; still another had cat whiskers and ears and seemed to be allergic to herself – every time she licked her hand, she sneezed.
"Children!" Charles called.
No one heard – or everyone pretended not to.
"Hello!" Charles yelled.
Still nothing.
Charles closed his eyes and reached his voice out to touch all of the young minds in the room. Children. Calm down.
The room fell silent immediately. The children were staring at Charles with wide eyes.
My name is Charles Xavier. This is Erik. We're like you. Charles opened his eyes and gestured to Erik, who flicked his hand and easily lifted an empty desk so that it was floating in the center of the classroom. Everyone, please sit in a circle.
The students did as they were told, moving in a dreamlike state to surround Charles and Erik.
Erik leaned over to Charles, whispering, "What am I supposed to do? They're all looking at us."
Charles slid his hand into Erik's. "They're not going to bite," he muttered. "Just relax." Then, watching the cat-girl, he amended – silently, so only he and Erik could hear – Well, that one might.
Erik's hand relaxed slightly, and Charles let go of it. "Okay, kids. So Erik and I are here to talk to you about what it means to be a mutant." He cast around in his mind, trying to think of something he could say that would mean anything to the young kids. Finally, he settled upon something an old friend had told him once – an old friend whom he hadn't seen in years. "The number one rule is this: be proud of who you are. Always remember that. Mutant and proud."