CHAPTER 2: The Game Is On
Author's Note: Happy McFassy Tuesday everyone (It's 1:45 AM Tuesday in Australia at the moment) Hope you enjoy the chapter. Sorry if it seems rushed but I feel as if it is needed for this fic. Erik has to constantly chase a rapidly moving and thinking Charles after all. XD
Sorry if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes. OTL
Erik woke up to the soft tunes of a violin playing and instantly knew it was Charles. In the two weeks Erik had moved in, he had learnt that Charles would sometimes play the violin for nights on end, not that he minded of course. The melody was soothing, the notes gentle and soft. He had never heard this piece before, but it was something uniquely Charles; filled with a light joy, amusement, punctuated by a touch of deep, grave sorrow.
Living with Charles was... not what Erik had expected. It wasn't unpleasant, but neither was it a frolic in the park. He had to admit that the fact that Charles was highly attractive was a huge bonus... and the chess. Playing chess with a competent opponent was very pleasing indeed. With happy thoughts, and looking forward to their next chess game (he would win this time around, he was sure of it) Erik fell back into slumber.
Okay, maybe he had been sugar-coating the fact that living with Charles Xavier wasn't too bad. Erik woke up in the morning at the usual time. Wearing nothing but his pajama bottoms, he padded towards the kitchen for breakfast, only to almost break his neck falling down the stairs.
"Mein Gott!" snarled Erik as he picked himself up and glared at the object that caused his fall. It was a pile of books. There were books everywhere in this apartment, everywhere. It was definitely a safety hazard, and one that Erik had thought he had already dealt with. The moment he had set foot in this apartment for the first time, he had been blinded by books upon books upon books. They had infested every inch of the apartment, even more so than the dust that coated every surface. Erik had shot Charles a rather appalled look, only to receive rather sheepish and pleading blue, puppy-dog eyes that should not be allowed to be pulled off so well by a fully grown man. Erik had relented and together they had made compromises.
Ignoring the pains and aches from his fall, Erik made his way to the kitchen where Charles was happily sipping his morning tea. Erik noticed that while Charles was eating his breakfast, in his hand sat yet another book. His sky blue, silk pajamas had the first few buttons undone, and one side seemed dangerously close to toppling off his shoulder. Yet he remained as oblivious as always. Sitting down, Erik gruffly took the morning newspaper and ruffled it open. A pleasant silence filled the room. "I thought we agreed that the stairway would be a book free zone, Charles."
A pause.
Peering over his newspaper, Erik watched as the brunet's eyes widened slightly in realization, before he set the cup down and abruptly left his seat, heading towards the staircase. He came back a moment later, setting a pile of books near the plate of bacon and eggs prepared by their house-maid Moira. "Apologies my friend, I got terribly distracted last night."
Erik didn't say anything. Instead, he reached over to take a slice of toast, heavily smeared with butter and marmalade. The newspaper crinkled loudly as he flicked the pages, scanning for anything that Charles might find amusing. "Missing aristocrat?"
Nibbling on a piece of bacon, Charles chuckled and continued reading his book. "Hiding in the slums to avoid his many shady debt collectors."
"Missing housewife?"
"With the stable boy in Paris."
Erik couldn't help but snort at that. It was amazing how Charles managed to figure out the truth of things with such ease. It was as if he could read anything and anyone the moment they were exposed to his gaze. As if those cerulean orbs saw through everything and everyone. It was an amazing skill that was almost scary. Thankfully, Erik knew that Charles was about as harmful as a litter of new born kittens. "Alright then, where did I leave my watch then?"
"Hmn..." Charles stopped his reading and looked up at the ceiling, biting his lower lip and looking even more appealing than usual. "On your desk? Even though you usually leave it on your bedside table."
Erik blinked in disbelief. "That was a lucky guess."
"You took it off to write a letter or something of the sort. There are faded ink stains on your fingers."
The taller male shook his head in exasperation before reaching over for more toast. "It still amazes me sometimes, the things you notice... it also amazes me how little you take care of yourself. I don't blame Moira for making you seek friendship."
"Yes, quite. She was worried that she would one day find me dead amongst a pile of books," Charles sighed, though it was one of affection. He smiled gently and took a sip of his tea. "But in taking her advice I have gained a trusted friend and a well trained doctor."
"You trust too easily, Charles," chided Erik. It was true. In their short time together, he had noticed how... naïve Charles was, despite his intelligence and deductive skills. His faith in humanity was laughable, yet admirable. To have someone in this world who still believed in the good of humanity was a rare thing indeed. Charles had a heart of gold and more than once Erik had scolded him for it. After all, no deed goes unpunished. He was... fond of Charles, and really did not wish to see the brunet hurt in any way.
"And you trust too little, my friend. The world is not as bleak as you think it to be. You are no longer alone, Erik. You have me."
The words were said so earnestly, so filled with conviction and loyalty that Erik had no choice to believe it. A strange tightness settled within his chest, and if Erik wasn't a doctor, then he would've thought it was a heart problem. Perhaps his arteries clogging up, or something of the sort. Instead, he poured himself a cup of coffee, drinking the dark substance with ease. The harsh bitterness of the caffeine evening out the sweetness of Charles' words.
Erik knew he shouldn't get too attached. It was a weakness that was unwarranted and unwanted... but this domestic scene, quaint and warm, was something that Erik had been deprived of since his mother had been taken away. And now that he had it once again, he found himself veryreluctant to part from it. But it was fine to indulge himself for now, he reasoned. All his leads on Schmidt had met dead ends and now there was nothing left to pursue. So he would stay with Charles as his hired doctor until he grew restless. "What are we doing today Charles?"
"Nothing at all. I want to catch up on my reading. You're welcome to do whatever you wish, though."
Erik shook his head, "There's nothing of importance that needs to be done."
"Another day filled with books and chess then? Maybe some scotch?" there was a happiness in Charles' voice that Erik couldn't deny.
"Yes. Now finish your breakfast before Moira scolds us both, that woman is scary."
Charles just laughed.
"That was an amazing game as always, my friend. I've never had to fight this hard for a win before," said Charles, as he finished the last of the scotch in his glass.
Leaning forward on his cushioned sofa, Erik stared intently at the chess board in front of him. HowintheworldhadCharleswon?Again!It was ridiculous, their game had started off on even terms. Until midway they continued to be on equal fields, and yet Charles had check-mated him out of the blue, and Erik was practically growling in frustration. Howdidhedothat?Maybe it was because he always chose to play white. White always went first and that meant having an upper-hand against your opponent. Being the first to attack, being ruthless and straight to the point and leaving no weak spots always lead to victory for Erik. However, that rule didn't seem to apply when it came to Charles. Erik voiced his thoughts and was met with Charles' soft laughter.
"Always play black, white moves first, and then all is lost. The place they choose to move to, the piece they first play, is it they aggressive? Are they being defensive? How firm is the hand with which they move? Are they confident, or are they hesitant? When you play black, you're able to use those things to your advantage and thus find the most efficient way to win."
"For a pacifist, you play chess like a war general. It would be quite daunting if you chose to become a villain."
"Aggressive behavior should only belong on the chess board, my friend, never in the real world." Charles stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I think I shall go take a bath now," and with that, he began to walk away.
"I get to play black next time!" hollered Erik. Charles made a gesture of agreement with his hand as he headed to the bathroom. Erik rapidly muttered something dark and incoherent in German, but his irritation, as always when it came to Charles, quickly dissipated.
Erik stared at the chessboard a while longer, attempting to distract himself from the sound of running water and the thought of Charles stripping himself free of his silk pajamas. The sound of the door being knocked on hesitantly was a welcome distraction. That was, until Erik saw who it was at the door.
There was a man, or rather, a boy who had yet to become a man. The clothes that he wore, which hung off his tall and lanky form, were further emphasized by the thick, woolen coat that seemed to hang off his shoulders. His hair was short and messy, as if he ran his hands through it countless times. His dark brown eyes were covered by thick rimmed glasses. He looked utterly harmless, scared even. And although there was a shyness about him, Erik knew him for what he was: a police officer.
"How may I help you officer?" asked Erik, and while his words were polite, his tone was far from it.
The boyish officer seemed rather surprised at the fact that Erik knew of his occupation without him having to state it himself. In a small, hesitant voice the officer spoke, pushing his glasses back up his face in a nervous manner as he did so. "Sorry for the bother, sir, but I'm detective officer Hank McCoy of Scotland Yard. I was wondering, is Mr. Charles Xavier here? And if so, may I please see him… if it's not too much of a bother?"
Erik's hackles rose; he had never trusted the police. They were useless when it came to finding out the truth about anything. Incompetent fools, who were unable to help him or his mother. Corrupt and inefficient, though perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing. If the police were indeed to be competent, then Erik wouldn't be a free man. After all, some of his own methods of finding out the truth involved... rather illegal activities. "I'm afraid that Mr. Xavier is busy, so he will be unable to meet you."
"May I come in and wait for him then?"
"If you wish to do that, then you shall do so with a warrant, and as I doubt you have one, then the answer is no." Erik was about to close the door, almost getting it fully shut before a strong hand stopped him and yanked the door back open. When the door was wrenched open, there was someone else standing next to Hank. Another officer most likely.
"Damn it Hank, you have to be more assertive than that or people like this bozo here will walk all over you." said the other officer in a strong American accent. He was the complete opposite of Hank. He had a stocky build and toned physique. Short, straw blond hair clashed pleasantly with blue eyes that glittered violently with aggression, and a jaw that was tight with rebellion. He was short. Either that, or Hank was freakishly tall. The blond officer stared at Erik with contempt and stood in front of Hank in a rather protective manner. "Look, Is Charles Xavier here or not? If he is, go get him, and if he ain't, then tell us where he is or we'll arrest you for obstructing an investigation."
Erik didn't know whether to be amused or horrifically angry. So he opted to do both, crossing his hands together as he stood to his full height and lookeddown at the blond officer. "Do you have as much bite as your bark, runt? Scotland Yard must be scraping at the bottom of the barrel if they hired a vicious toy dog like you." It was low of him to sink to their childish levels, but government officials just rubbed him the wrong way. Erik really couldn't help himself.
"That's it! Listen here, buddy. You're hereby under ar -" The blond cop moved forward in a threatening manner, but Hank pulled him back by the collar of his coat. "Alex," chided the taller man, "It's alright, we can wait for the Professor out here."
"Hank! It's bloody cold out here! And that guy's being a jerk! What if he kidnapped the Prof?"
Erik bristled with anger now, his lips contorting into a vicious snarl. As if he would everhurt Charles. He took a step forward, and to his immense satisfaction, a flash of fear swept through the officers' expression. They looked more like frightened children than they did enforcers of the law.
"Alex? Hank?" said a surprised feminine voice and the three males turned to face the origin of the voice.
Moira McTaggert stood at the end of the stairs that lead to their apartment, at 221 B Baker Street. Her long, chocolate-hazel hair flowing past her shoulders. She wore a thick hand knitted scarf that covered half her face, so that practically only her chestnut eyes were visible. "What are you two doing here?" she asked, shuffling her paper bags filled with groceries.
"Miss Moira," said Hank, looking very relieved to see her, "Is the Professor home?"
"Of course he is, he's been bored for weeks. Please tell me you've a case for him." Moira walked up the stairs, her petite coats and the hem of her dress swishing around her feet. Together, the four of them stood cramped up in the front entrance of the apartment. Moira looked at the two very tense males and the one nervous one, then rolled her eyes. "Let me guess? A pissing contest? Really now, men," she scowled before pushing her bags of food in front of Alex, who took them without complaint. She made to enter the house, but Erik's form prevented her from doing so. "Erik, come on, let them in."
"They're pigs," snarled the German, and his accent thickened ever so slightly.
"Charles will be happy to see them, I promise," she said. And as if those were the magic words, Erik allowed the officers entry, although he was far from happy doing so.
"Would you like some tea or coffee?" asked Moira once everybody entered the house.
"Ah, no thank you Miss Moira," answered Hank as he scanned his environment before shooting Erik a wary look. "We need to see the professor, it's rather urgent I'm afraid."
Moira took the bags away from Alex, then looked around the room, "Where is he by the way?"
"In the bathroom," replied Erik, his answer curt and straight to the point.
Moira rolled her eyes and unraveled her scarf, hanging it on a nearby clothes hanger. "Deary me, I shall have to go fetch him shan't I? He must be daydreaming in there about some crazy theory of his, or trying to figure out the origins of bathroom tiles again. I swear, if he didn't have you and me then he'd think and ponder 'til he starved to death." swiftly she made her way down into the corridor, heading to the bathroom. To Erik's utter surprise, she slammed the door open and entered.
There was a yelp, followed by an almost childish bickering. Erik, Hank and Alex winced.
"Poor Prof., having Moira as a maid. That woman is scary" said Alex with a shudder as he sat himself down on the nearest chair and slouched.
Hank nodded his head in agreement and sat down in a more refined manner, jumping up when Erik shot him a warning glare. "I- I agree, but she's his childhood friend first, before being his maid. She's not that bad... most days."
A strange feeling settled into Erik's stomach at the realization that these officers were on good terms with Charles. Not only that, but they seemed to know a lot about him too. Definitely a lot more than what he knew about Charles. Erik quelled down the sensation, deeming it to be impractical. He had only known Charles for two weeks, of course they would know nothing about each other. But it was easier said than done.
Moira came back into the living room, then left for the kitchen. A rather miffed looking Charles entered next. Of course, he lit up when he saw his guests. "Alex, Hank," he greeted, his voice full of happiness, blue eyes lit up in joy.
All the tension and insecurities that had enveloped Hank like a bubble dissipated from his form, and he was instead replaced with a rather gentle, yet confident man. "Professor! It's been too long."
"Quite, my boy," Charles shook Hank's hands and patted his shoulder. It was a strange sight to see, as Charles had to stand on the tips of his toes to do it. He paused, recognition marring his features before he smiled in amusement. "I see that Raven has been giving you grief once again."
Hank blus2hed in embarrassment but nodded, "One day you will have to tell me how you always know when Raven toys with me. She pick-pocketed me and now I am without my badge."
Charles laughed joyously and then walked over to Alex, who had sat up straighter than before. He ruffled the blond's hair. "And I hope you're keeping your temper in line young man?"
Alex's demeanor had also changed; his vicious personality replaced with something a lot more tame. He even blushed, mumbling a "Sorta," before shooting Erik a dirty look.
Erik had to be surprised. Never had he seen anyone cause such a change in a person's personality. Charles had exceptional social skills it seemed, despite the fact that he had practically cooped himself up in his room for two weeks. What was more amazing was the fact that he seemed to be genuine in his social interactions. Briefly, Erik wondered if Charles had influenced or changed his personality. Also, why in the world did they call him professor?
"The tension out there was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. They were practically growling at each other like beasts. Well, at least Erik and Alex were." Moira entered the room holding a tray of tea and biscuits.
Head tilted to the side Charles shot Erik a look of utter confusion.
It was a rather endearing expression and Erik hated the fact that it made his heart melt. "They're from Scotland yard." he said, as if those words would excuse his behavior.
The brunet smiled, full of understanding. He thanked Moira for the tea and all the males sat down. Moira on the other hand had gone back to her own room. She knew what they were soon going to talk about and she found such subjects distasteful.
"Hank, Alex, this is my new friend and personal doctor, Erik Lehnsherr. Erik, this is Hank McCoy and Alex Summers. They're the head detectives at Scotland yard... Which I assume you already know?"
"Yes," grumbled out Erik and made no attempt to shake hands with either of the officers. "They're just kids."
"Excuse me for interrupting, Mr. Lehnsherr, but my age has nothing to do with my intelligence or skill."
"Fuck that," Alex gave Charles a worried look, "Are you sick Prof.? Is that why you need a doctor?"
Charles laughed, brushed the worry off and began to make tea. "It's just a bonus. Erik is very much my friend. Anyhow, what seems to be the problem officer?"
"There's been a murder." said Hank, looking rather grave. "They happen often unfortunately, but... this one feels… wrong"
"In what way?" asked Charles. His expression was a mixture of curiosity and sadness. It was a strange mix Erik had never seen on the brunet before.
"I'm not sure," admitted Hank sheepishly, "That's why we came to see you."
"Then we should get going to ensure that all the evidence is intact. Time is of the essence when it comes to a crime scene." Charles drank down his milk tea and quickly stood up, Hank and Alex did as well, but Erik stayed where he was. After all, it wasn't him that had been requested to go.
Charles seemed to realize this. He gave Erik a rather vulnerable look and bit his lower lip. "Will you come with me?"
"I'm your doctor, I have to go. What if you get hit by a carriage? Knowing how absentminded you are, it's quite likely."
Charles didn't seem offended at all. Instead, he smiled brightly. He rushed to the clothes hanger, where he hastily donned a coat, a sky blue scarf and practically slammed the door open. "Let's us go then! The game, my dear Erik, is on!"