A/N: Written for an anonymous Tumblr prompt which read, "Could you write a fic where christine and erik are teasing each other (for example christine tickling erik or something like that) and then christine accidenatally knocks off erik's mask?"
Neither of them are certain, after, who it was that started it. All they know is that someone started tickling the other and they ended up on the floor, breathless and giggling, and all was going well and Christine was very much winning the Great Tickle War (mostly because Erik was slightly afraid of hurting her) until somehow Erik's mask got knocked off.
The tickling ceases, and his eyes widen, and time slows down to gelatin-pace (or perhaps treacle) as Christine looks at the distorted face she has revealed. A torrent of thoughts rush through her mind in a heartbeat, all while his pupils contract to black pins amidst hazel-gold. Exposure has not improved it much. Poor man, what he must have been through. There is something artful about the lack of a nose. If he does not kill me now he might run away. Think, Christine.
Summoning all of her courage before he can suck in a breath and start thinking himself (men's minds can be so slow) she takes his face between both hands and kisses him.
He whimpers into her mouth, and she feels him swallow, his lips parting to admit her tongue. And Christine is not certain what she expected him to taste like (though it is all so sudden she could not have had time to expect him to taste of anything) but the hint of strawberries and lemon tea is not unwelcome.
He pulls back and breaks the kiss, tears in his eyes as he raises his hand and lays it against her cheek, a featherlight touch. "Christine." His voice is a whisper, low and hoarse and she presses another kiss to his cheek, intercepting the tear that trickles from his eye. "Christine, you-"
She presses a finger to his lip to silence him, and gently takes him in her arms, hugging him close. She strokes his hair, and kisses his brow, and he whimpers against her, more tears spilling forth. Perhaps, she realises, I should have told him that my feelings have changed. Timing, Christine. Timing. Instead of speaking, she peppers him with kisses, and silently promises to do right by him.
And to never let him wear the mask again when they are alone. She needs to get used to his face, after all, if they are to be together.