His eyes flutter open to a darkening room. Blinks and shifts. A sound from across the space, quiet and gentle, floats over to where he lays in bed, and Charles looks over his shoulder to see Erik's back to him. The muttered curse when the door squeaks makes him smile sleepily and turn around to face his boyfriend trying to creep inside without waking him. A quick glance at the digital clock at his head reads six forty-three in the evening.
"Erik?"
Erik whips his head around and grins sheepishly. "Hey, sorry. I was trying not to wake you."
Charles blinks sleepily, mind still half asleep, body feeling lethargic. "It's okay," he yawns. "I needed to wake up anyway, or I won't get any sleep tonight." He says it, but it's not entirely true – this bed is ridiculously comfortable. Better than any hospital he's been in. Even better than his bed back at his parent's house. Charles thinks he's more than a little biased, to be honest– he shares this bed with Erik, and is inclined to think it above all others because of the fact. Something warm trickles through his veins as he watches Erik kick off his shoes, back still to him.
He and Erik live together now – not only as best friends, which is really all Charles thought the extent of their friendship would be for such a very long time – but as boyfriends. Who are in love. As lovers. And he will never admit to Erik that he actually gives them that title, but it sends his mind (and heart) for a loop every time he does. Even though he hadn't seen the apartment until two weeks ago, it already feels familiar, what with all of Erik's things lying about, and Charles' own clothes in the dresser drawers and closets. Their slippers near the head of the bed and colognes standing side by side on the dresser. It all feels so utterly right, that he has to close his eyes and breathe deeply for a moment, sometimes, he gets so happy. It feels like home.
There are bandages, pain relievers, and antiseptic on the desk, and his crutches and wheel chair against the wall near the bed, but that's the extent of bringing the hospital home with him. Although, he will miss Nurse Juliet's cookies. And hugs.
Feeling the bed dip, Charles realizes that he's let his eyes drift shut, and opens them again. The sight of Erik's long lashed, dark green eyes so close to his blue, has something fluttering happily inside of his chest. "Hey," the other man whispers before leaning in to press a soft kiss to Charles' lips. He lingers for a moment, before nuzzling their noses together and pulling back.
"Hey," Charles breathes back. He's about to ask what he's been up to today when a movement between their bodies captures his attention. Looking down hails a huge pair of brown eyes and big floppy ears. Charles stares.
"Yeah, I, uh," Erik clears his throat and cups his large palm over the puppy's head and pets softly. "I saw him last week and I- I thought you'd like him?" It comes out as a question, but Charles can't answer right away. The tiny basset hound puppy shuffles forward from underneath Erik's palm, noses at Charles chin, and licks tentatively, before flopping back down and squirming onto it's back. Erik tickles his fingers along the small white belly and the puppy wiggles, settling in. "They say dogs speed the healing process, you know? Something about happiness and hormones, and… I know you can't take care of him by yourself yet, so I'll help. I mean, I was going to help anyway; I already got him toys, and food, and a bed..." He trails off in the face of silence, and Charles sees his hand stop moving. "You don't like it."
Charles swallows hard, but it doesn't get rid of the lump in his throat, or the burning of his eyes. Erik got him a puppy. After making him the happiest man on earth and kissing him for the first time in the hospital five months ago, and asking him to move in, and taking care of him while he's still healing, and driving him back and forth to the hospital for physical therapy, and watching science documentaries with him all night long when the pain in his legs keeps him awake… After all of that, Erik went out and got him a puppy. An adorable puppy with huge eyes, and floppy ears, and a tiny warm body. This is… this is so… it feels as if his heart is expanding in his chest, swelling to press against his ribcage, trying and failing to contain all the utter love he feels right now. It hurts a little, how much he feels for the man lying next to him. The man worrying if he likes his present.
Charles sniffs, and wipes at his eyes, still looking down at the puppy lying between them. "I love him. I really, really love him Erik."
"I wasn't sure which one to get," the other man answers, a little quickly. "They had so many at the shelter, but they were all so jumpy, or mean, or crazy… I don't know. This one seemed to… fit." He smiles hesitantly when Charles finally looks up again to meet his eyes. Slowly, as not to startle the puppy between them, Charles leans forward to press his lips gently to Erik's, who sighs upon contact. The small sound breaks something in Charles in the best way possible and he presses a little harder, flicking his tongue along the tender flesh underneath the other man's lip. It's soft and sweet, lingering and a little salty from the one tear that managed to get loose.
"I love him. Thank you." It's whispered against smiling lips and punctuated by another light kiss. The tender hand that caresses through his hair briefly has Charles sinking into bliss. The puppy wriggles between them, and Charles uses a finger to scratch underneath its chin and down its plump little tummy.
"So," Erik asks as he kicks off his pants and joins Charles underneath the covers. "What are you going to name him?"
Charles continues to rub at the hound's tummy, whose big brown eyes are dropping sleepily while its left leg twitches slightly.
"I think I'll call him… Cerebro."