Something To Lose
Just a pointless, fluffy AU where Erik never left. Slash, pure fluff, post-XMFC.
They come back to the mansion quicker than anticipated. Charles is positioned in his new wheelchair, designed by Hank during the time he has been gone. He doesn't look uncomfortable, but he's clearly unused to it – he's not really as relaxed as he could be.
Erik wheels him to the entrance slowly, where they stop, looking up at the building stretching itself to the sky in front of them. The children follow them quietly, lingering behind. Their quiet conversation trails away as they look at the mansion looming over them.
Charles takes a deep breath, and there's a certain light to his eyes as Erik watches his face carefully. A smile curves the telepath's lips softly.
"Are you ready for this?" Erik asks, mirroring the conversation they had in the plane on their way to Cuba.
"Let's find out," The telepath replies, slightly breathless, not tearing his gaze away from the mansion.
Erik looks at the future school with a sense of lingering doubt. He doesn't regret any of the choices he has made yet. It had been simple; of course he would go with Charles. Shaw is dead, and Erik's work done – there is no task tying him down any more, there are no plans of vengeance left. Frankly, it's a little discouraging; his entire life has centered itself on his thirst for revenge, and now it's gone, he feels a bit lost.
He hasn't changed. He still believes there is a battle to be fought, only it hasn't shown itself yet. The evolving of fear to hatred in the humans is inevitable – maybe not all of them will attack, but they'll all be ready on defense. Charles has promised that the mutants will be too, as long as it doesn't turn to offense. As long as no offense comes from the humans, no offense will come from the mutants – that is the deal. Erik had accepted, not as much for the terms themselves but because now, after years of nothing, he finally has something to lose. He has brethren out there, and he will protect them to any cost, and he cannot do that on his own. He needs this, he needs a plan, and this is better than most. He needs Charles.
Erik tries not to think of how deep that statement goes.
Charles reaches up and covers Erik's hand with his own, flashing a reassuring smile. If Erik's heart skips a beat, well – no one will be able to prove it.
"Come on, children, we have lots to do," He calls cheerily. "But first, let's have a nice day doing absolutely nothing. I think you need it more than you will admit."
The last words are said softly, laced with gratitude. Raven steps forward, dropping a kiss to her brother's head affectionately. Charles leans in to it and smiles gently. Erik's heart clenches slightly.
Sean, Alex, Hank and Raven depart to their old rooms in the West wing, leaving Charles and Erik alone in the hall. The telepath wheels around to face his friend.
"Did Azazel say when they're coming?" Charles asks airily.
"No," Erik says. "They needed to get to their own business, they said. They'll be here."
Charles hums in agreement. Erik inhales slowly.
"Well, until then, fancy a game of chess?" The telepath's voice is light. "I do believe I can win over you, even without the very useful ability to walk."
Erik smiles, but it feels tight.
"You were never good enough to beat me, even when you could feel your legs," He taunts. He softens his voice slightly as he continues: "But I'll go easy on you the first couple of rounds, since it was my fault."
Something changes in his friend's eyes.
"Erik, we've been over this," Charles says gently, leaning forward and positioning his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands. His eyes are boring in to Erik's effortlessly. "It was an accident. And I forgive you for it," He adds with a cocky smile.
"I know," Erik responds simply, because he does. They have talked about it. Charles isn't angry and blames no one, but it doesn't stop the metal bender's chest from tightening whenever his eyes are laid upon the wheelchair. "I'm still sorry, though."
Charles smiles softly.
"That you need not to be, my friend. I'm at ease. It could have been so much worse – the bullet was meant for you," He points out, as if it helps. Erik clenches his jaw. "You have no idea how happy I am that it was me it wounded."
Erik tenses.
"That's not a thing to be happy about," He grits out.
The telepath leans back casually, shrugging. Erik hates the casualty to his eyes-
"You cannot control feelings," He says simply.
Heavy silence settles as Erik stares and Charles meets his gaze calmly, until the metal bender licks his lips cautiously and asks:
"Chess, you say? What does the winner get?"
Charles' smile is brighter than the sun.
The first thing they do is to rebuild Cerebro.
Now it needs to be used regularly to find and recruit mutants to the future school, it needs to be developed. Charles jokes that it's not perfect until it doesn't matter how much hair he has on his head.
Hank works on it with Charles' help. They say they will need Erik and his powers when they're done planning out how it's supposed to be and get to the actual building. Until then, he has no task at hand except keeping an eye on the kids, which doesn't prove too hard.
After two days, Azazel and the rest of Shaw's old team arrive. They're thankful for the kindness Charles has shown them, but they seem a little lost and hesitant, just like Erik. They don't know if they will fit in, but the children quickly try to make them feel welcome.
Erik stands on the balcony, looking down at the lawn. Hank and Charles are still inside, working on Cerebro, but the rest of the team is enjoying the nice weather outside. Alex and Sean are throwing a Frisbee between them. Janos (or formerly known as Riptide) and Azazel are playing an intense game of cards. Raven is chatting idly with Angel. She's naked and blue, looking majestic despite the girlish, sweet smile on her lips. Erik feels a surge of pride at her new confidence – he helped her, he made her see her true beauty. She catches his eye and flashes a grin, before engaging in conversation with her friend again.
It takes two weeks before Erik is needed for Cerebro.
He has been restless, aimlessly walking around the mansion with nothing to do. The others seem to enjoy the free time, spending it pranking each other and acting childishly. They're finally starting to get in to their old, immature ways, and the remorse of the happenings at Cuba is slowly fading away. Shaw's old team has gotten more comfortable, and talk about getting back Emma Frost. Erik doesn't know if that is a very good idea, but stays silent.
He spends as much time as he can with Charles. Working with Hank means that the telepath can ask the beast to help him whenever he needs it, and Erik feels strangely hollow at that. He realizes he wants to be the one by Charles' side all the time, the one the he needs. He doesn't know what to make of that.
Charles hasn't changed. He's cheerful and at ease and Erik can see that it's not an act, but that he's genuinely all right. Erik hasn't changed either, he thinks – the grin he wears feels the same, his voice is the same to his ears, he looks the same in the bathroom mirror. He feels more peaceful, though – the rage and vengeance he has felt his entire life is fading away noticeably. It scares him slightly; without his anger, who is he?
When Charles smiles at him and his heart skips a beat, he thinks he has an idea.
"You seem more at ease."
Erik looks up from the chess set in front of him. He's perched in one of the chairs in Charles' study, the telepath sitting in front of him. The chair he used to sit in is pushed away to make room for the wheelchair.
"What do you mean?" Erik asks. He doesn't mean for it to sound accusing or demanding, but it almost does.
Charles thinks.
"You're… Calm. Peaceful, even," He flashes a smile. "It's nice. You don't seem as troubled as you used to."
"Well, I killed Shaw," The metal bender's says, attempting to sound casual. He moves one of his pawns.
The telepath's scrutinizing eyes linger on him.
"It's not that," He says at last, mostly as if he's thinking out loud, "I felt you after Cuba. You wouldn't leave my bedside, remember?"
He chuckles slightly. Erik looks at him with knitted eyebrows.
"You were unconscious for most of the time, Charles," He remarks, pushing back a twinge of anxiety. What he had said while Charles was in the hospital had all been truthful words, and things he intends the telepath to hear – someday. When he has sorted out the conflicting feelings that rise whenever their eyes meet.
"I could still feel your mood," His friend explains. He makes an off-hand gesture, sweeping his hand through the air as if indicating to the room they are in, "And all the others'. But mostly you. You were feeling so strongly, I couldn't help but pick up on it."
He smiles sheepishly, almost as if he's apologetic.
"And?" Erik asks, determined not to show his confusion.
"And you weren't nearly as serene as you are now," Charles replies. His eyes are fixed on the chess set, and he moves his bishop a step forward. "You were… Hollow. Well, of course, you weren't hollow as much as you felt hollow. Empty."
He raises his head to meet Erik's gaze steadily, one eyebrow raised.
"What do you mean?" Erik asks carefully.
"I don't think Shaw's death was what brought you peace," Charles says simply. He cuts off Erik before he can speak; "It doesn't make sense, I know, but you… I think you expected more of a rush from killing him. I anticipated that you would be disappointed – your whole life leads up to that moment, and then it's over, and you're left with nothing. It can't feel very good."
His voice is light, and Erik realizes that if they had had this conversation before Cuba, it wouldn't be such an easy topic at all. The way Charles looks at him, it seems like he knows what the metal bender is thinking. Which he probably does. Erik doesn't mind; he never does anymore.
"So I don't think it's killing Shaw that calmed you, as much as knowing you're finally ready to do whatever you want with your life, move on without having any plan or goal to lose," The telepath finishes.
Erik blinks, pondering the words. Charles is right, except for one thing, he realizes: Erik does have something to lose. He has more to lose than he has had since his mother died. He has a home and friends, and he has Charles. That's what changes everything; he has something to fall back on, people and plans and hopes of a future. The impatient rage that has tugged at him for so many years didn't stretch further than to kill Shaw – after that, there was nothing left. He hadn't let himself think of what would happen afterwards, he realizes, because nothing was supposed to happen afterwards.
Not exactly a suicide mission, but thinking back at it, it seems like Erik had thought that was what was going to happen. He had been ready to die for Shaw.
Would I be ready to do that now, if he wasn't dead already? Erik thinks.
He looks at Charles, who is occupied by frowning down at the chess board with calculating eyes.
With a dry mouth, Erik realizes he knows the answer.
Erik kisses Charles a week later.
It's in the kitchen during a late breakfast. The others have already eaten and left, which leaves Charles and Erik alone.
Charles is talking excitedly about how well it's going with Cerebro, how well Erik is doing with it, and how clever Hank has been with the adjustments. He's waving his hands and gesturing wildly, the joy radiating from him.
Erik makes them coffee, presses a cup in to the telepath's hand and then kisses him.
His friend reacts immediately, kissing back with enthusiasm, as if he's been wanting this just as much as the metal bender has. Erik feels happier than he ever as they pull away, and Charles' smile is so huge it could split his face in to two.
"And when did we start doing this?" He asks jokingly, but there's a faint blush spreading across his cheeks.
"Since we realized we wanted to," Erik replies casually, but his enormous grin gives him away.
"Fair enough," Charles says. "I like that."
Erik buries his fingers in the telepath's hair, and their lips are smiling as they connect again.