A/N: Wow, everyone! Thanks so much for taking the time to read and leave all your lovely comments, they made my day :D I'd love to respond to them all personally, but I'd just gush disgustingly and say something horribly embarrassing, so I'm settling for a blanket thank you- you're all amazing!

Okay, this one isn't as fluffy, but it's still pretty bad, I can't help it. Unfortunately, Erik being Erik, it's impossible not to have a little angst, but I've tried to keep it to a minimum. Enjoy!

Hammocks:

There are shrieks of laughter coming from outside as Alex tackles Sean to the ground. What began as an innocent game of basketball has rapidly become an all out war, one Alex seems to be winning by ambush tactics and guerrilla warfare. Raven sits with Hank, hands close but not quite touching in the innocence of youth and good weather, and Charles... Charles is nowhere to be seen.

He calls out, projecting his thoughts in the hope he's listening, and his voice, even his mental one, is more worried than he'd like. He still hasn't let his guard down, not even after all these months, but then he hasn't cared about anyone like this in a long, long time.

The telepath responds instantly, voice warm and reassuring and a little bit amused, calming him instantly. He's in the herb garden, and Erik is welcome to join him.

When he arrives on the sunlit veranda, Charles is laying on the strangest contraption he's ever seen. Two metal poles about 2 meters apart, with a stretch of material in between, making a kind of bed big enough for at least three people, suspended a few inches from the ground. It looks uncomfortable from where he's standing, but he stops for a moment to admire the view; warm sunlight on wiry, supple limbs.

And stops, halts the thought and shoves it away, because Charles isn't a telepath for nothing, and scaring away his only friend with thoughts like that will probably kill him. Or send him back, back to the place where anger rules and vengeance is everything, and right now he doesn't want to go back.

Oh, Shaw will die one way or the other, he won't give up on that, not now, but he's gotten further with Charles that he ever did on his own, and something about him, some indefinable thing eases the rage so it's almost bearable. With Charles he can breathe, when he's been held underwater for so long he's forgotten what it's like. With Charles, Shaw seems so far away.

Of course, Charles being the trusting, innocent fool that he is, he's promised he won't ever look inside his head, inside anyone's head without good reason, but Erik also knows that he has the dangerous habit of projecting his thoughts so loud the man can't help but hear them.

The professor looks up and smiles, blue eyes sparkling as he lays down his book, an academic work on the fall of Constantinople. As Erik stands, content to remain there and drink in the sight of him, he pats the material he lays on, a clear invitation.

Why not? Erik smirks. It's big enough for two and he doesn't want to be rude...

He soon learns, however, that there is a fine art to sitting on the contraption- which apparently is called a hammock- without falling straight off and landing flat on your face, and it takes a while to master. Soon the air is filled with English laughter as he tries and fails to sit on the blasted thing, falling on the dirt in the process. Several times.

He wonders absently why it doesn't bother him that Charles is laughing at him, when he's never been able to stand being mocked. But then it's nothing like the way Herr Doktor used to laugh when Erik was screaming so much he could barely hear it. It's a soft, rich, beautiful sound, and despite how much the Professor smiles he rarely laughs. It eases something in his chest, even lying face down on the floor.

Strong arms grasp him and pull him up, repositioning him so he's lying flat, close enough to be indecent if he could summon the energy to care. Because he's too busy forcing himself to be still, holding back the instinct to turn and destroy whatever is foolish enough to grab him from behind, keeps reminding himself that it's okay because it's Charles, he's not Shaw, it's okay, it's okay, it's Charles it's Charles it's Charles...

And he opens his eyes to find blue ones above him, soft and smiling, and he trembles a little as he settles himself. It's like a balancing act- fine if you don't think about it, and what better way to distract himself than the warmth seeping into his shirt.

Unable to help himself he shuffles a little closer, burrowing into the comfort, earning a chuckle from above him as an arm curls round his shoulders. The warmth is incredible.

Charles picks up his book again, seemingly content not to talk, and Erik sighs, eyes closing of their own accord as he leans into the warmth. Last night was bad, but he smiles as he drifts off, because he knows with Charles there won't be nightmares.

After five, where Hank has called for dinner and no-one's seen them for hours, Raven steps into the garden as the others search the house.

She leaves a moment later- a soft smile on her face. She leaves two men, curled around each other, sleeping peacefully in the afternoon sunlight, and smiles the gentle smile of a sister who knows her brother is finally happy.

If anyone has the time to review/ has any ideas, I really love hearing from you, and I need things Erik can try!

Next: Movie Nights

Special Note to Mrs Unusual-In-Groovy-Ways, thanks so much because I love your idea and I totally will do it within the next few weeks or so, but I need to figure out a way to tweak it for my extremely vague plotline which is totally happening, I swear.