So this one's kind of long, a bit of an info dump but it serves to move the plot along :)


The volunteers were in full swing, revolving between the kitchen and serving out front. Raven and Moira were laughing and tossing flour at each other as they made cookies. Charles was everywhere, keeping an eye on things, making sure food didn't run out, that everyone had something to eat and drink.

Noticing that they were getting low on Styrofoam plates, Charles ducked into the storage room and frowned. He couldn't remember where they were, so he just started rifling through boxes. Beans. Stuffing. Seasoning mixes. Spices. Plastic silverware. Cans of evaporated milk. Styrofoam cups.

Ah, finally.

Plates. He grabbed a few packages and pushed the door open with his hip. Starting back through the kitchen, Charles caught sight of a familiar figure leaning against a counter, tall, lean, dark-haired, an easy smile on his face.

Erik?

The plates tumbled to the floor.

What the hell . . .? How did he even. . .

A giggle rang out above the noise and Charles frowned. Of course. Raven. She must have told him and of course Charles would never turn someone away on today of all days. Thanksgiving was a day of sharing with those who had little or nothing.

The squeak of plastic beneath his feet startled him. Charles bent down to pick up the plates, straightened, and locked eyes with Erik.

His pulse picked up. He swallowed past a suddenly tight throat.

Erik smiled and waved across the kitchen at him.

Breathe, Charles. Just breathe normally. Act normally. Focus on the work. It was as if his feet moved of their own accord, dragging him across the kitchen to the trio.

"Charles, you'll never guess who just showed up!" Raven giggled.

Erik greeted him cheerfully. "Hey."

"If you're going to be here, you might as well help." Charles handed him the plates. "Take these out front and see if they need anything."

Erik winked. "Yes, sir."

After he left, Charles rounded on his sister. "What is he doing here?"

"Oh come on! I thought you two were making up!"

"Raven, I want nothing to do with him!"

Raven laughed. "Oh, please, Charles. You know you're softening towards him. It's just a matter of time before you give in and spend more than two minutes with him."

Charles glowered at her then leaned around to look at Moira. "Nothing to say?"

Moira shook her head. "Whatever you want to do about Erik is up to you. So long as I don't have to pick up the pieces again."

The mood dipped. Charles sighed, ran a hand through his hair, scrubbed his face. Defeated, he asked, "Why, Raven?"

"He wants to help."

Moira muttered, "Sure he does," and shoved a tray into the oven. She gave Charles a quick hug and murmured in his ear, "You want to talk to Erik, talk to Erik. You want to ignore him, ignore him. Whatever makes you feel better is all I want." He hugged her briefly back before letting her return to cookie-making.

"You, shush," Raven ordered her. To her brother, she continued, "Erik is living in a hotel. We are the only people in New York he knows besides his agent and film crew so since we were here, I invited him. Besides, I figured we could use the extra hands." She winked and Charles felt himself flush.

"Just—just keep him away from me, okay? I don't need the extra stress." Or the reminders. Charles headed to the cafeteria, tossing over his shoulder, "Get him an apron!"

He watched Erik ripping the plastic off the plates and handing them out to people in line, talking easily with them, no matter their age. Leaning against the wall, Charles took a deep breath. Erik had his interview persona on. That version of the man who could answer the same questions a million times and not show his irritation.

He smiled faintly as Erik knelt down to personally hand a plate to a little girl wearing clothes too big for her. The girl sucked on her thumb, ducking her head as Erik spoke to her, and she suddenly beamed up at him. Erik really was adorable with little girls.

Oh dear god, he had to stop doing this.

But maybe. . .

Maybe Raven had a point. He could remain stubborn and refuse to mend fences.

Or he could give Erik a chance to explain himself after all these years.

Maybe.

Half an hour later, Charles caught sight of someone else who shouldn't be here and made a beeline for him. "Alex, what are you doing here? How did you get here?"

Caught by surprise, Alex said, "Charles! Um, well, I can't see Scott and I don't get along with the others at juvie so I figured I'd come here. I convinced an Uber driver to take me." He shrugged. "I like it here."

"You're welcome here anytime, Alex," Charles assured him. "Do you want to help?" The teen nodded and Charles put an arm around his shoulders, leading him to the kitchen. "I hate to do this to you, but do you mind washing pots and pans for me?"

"I guess not." Alex waved at Erik as they passed him on the serving line. Charles glanced between them, wondering when they'd gotten so friendly.


Erik squeezed more soap onto his sponge and attacked the pot that had mashed potatoes practically molded onto the sides with it. When the line started to die down out front, he'd come in and swapped places with Alex, giving the kid a break. He caught a glimpse of his pruned fingers and chuckled softly. Surprising, how much he actually liked washing dishes. His fans would have a heart attack if they found out. The thought amused him far more than it probably should. Maybe he should leak a photo to the press, see them all freak out once they saw Famous Actor Erik Lensherr washing dishes on the cover of their favorite tabloids. He chuckled again, enjoying the thought far more than he should. Az would kill him, though, if he actually went through with it.

Something clanked next to him and he glanced over to see Charles set several empty containers on the counter to be washed. Erik turned back to his washing but Charles hovered. Curious, Erik glanced over at him.

Charles looked at him and said softly, "Okay. You win. One dinner where I will listen to your side."

Relieved, Erik said, "Thank you."

Charles shrugged. "I figure you've earned it by now. Besides, it's only fair and healthy to get it all in the open. I'm not promising anything, though."

Erik nodded. "I know; I appreciate the chance, anyway."

Charles took a deep breath, nodded once and walked away.

Erik tilted his head back and closed his eyes, resisting the urge to fist-pump the air. Yes. He knew, just knew, if he could get his story out, things would change between them. And for the better.

He picked up the next dish, his heart feeling lighter.


"Yes, all right." Charles opened the door to his office and stepped in. "I will have the paperwork sent to you by Monday. Thank you again, Melanie, for helping me with this."

He hung up and went to check his email. Who knew there was so much paperwork involved in the adoption process?

Rounding his desk, he reached out to jog the mouse and wake the monitor up but his attention was distracted by a bright yellow post-it note stuck to the top of the screen. What on earth…? Charles scanned it and rolled his eyes. The note read:

Saturday

Applebee's on 4th and Lex

8:30 pm.

See you there,

Erik

Laughing a little, Charles tugged it off and pulled up his email. Right then, Erik. Saturday evening it was. Fifty emails awaited his response but he was searching for one in particular. Ah, there. Melanie had forwarded the necessary documents he needed to fill out.

As he waited for the first one to download, Charles' gaze drifted back to the post-it. Reading it again, he smiled. Erik had chosen a time after the center had closed. Perhaps there was reason to hope they could be friends at the end of this.


Tap, tap, tap, tap. . . Erik refused to look at his watch again. He scanned the restaurant again.

Still no sign of Charles.

He wouldn't just not come, right?

He'd be here.

8:47 p.m.

A burst of cold air reached him and he looked up. Relief flooded him and Erik slid out of his seat, waving to catch Charles' eye.

A small smile crossed his face as he watched the familiar figure of Charles weave his way through the restaurant to their table.

"Hey," Charles said, his face adorably pink from the cold. He peeled off his coat and sat down. "Sorry I'm late. One of the boys was throwing up. It took me forever to get a hold of his parents."

"It's no problem. Is he okay?"

Charles glanced up at him. "I think it's just the flu. Should be fine in a few days, so long as he stays home and rests."

Knowing a bit more about the home lives of some of the kids who frequented the center, Erik was sure the boy would be back tomorrow. He nodded, even as he wondered which kid. "Good to hear."

Conversation stuttered to a halt at that point so it was a good thing the waitress showed up at that point. "Hello, my name's Jenna and I'll be your server tonight." She smiled brightly at them, and tucked her hair behind her ear. He'd taken a quick selfie with her earlier along with a promise to keep his presence a secret until he'd left. "Can I start you with some drinks while you look over the menu?"

Erik ordered, "Mountain Dew, for me."

Charles turned to the menu. "Um, where . . .?"

Erik leaned over and opened it to the correct page. "At the bottom, there."

"Ah. Thank you." Charles looked it over quickly then smiled up at Jenna. "Strawberry iced tea, please."

Jenna nodded. "Sure thing." She walked off, sliding her notepad into the pouch at her waist.

Awkward silence filled the space between them.

Erik flipped through his menu, not really reading it as he tried to gauge Charles' mood. Would he be receptive? Or would this end in them yelling at each other again?

Charles, on the other hand, was very obviously nervous. He fidgeted, adjusting his coat on the seat back. Flipped the menu pages back and forth. Bit his lower lip.

That last one was especially distracting to Erik, as it just drew his attention. And his libido. Focus.

Jenna returned, setting drinks in front of them. "There you go. You ready to order or do you need a minute?"

Shit. Erik quickly flicked through the entrées. "I'll take the sirloin stir-fry."

Charles said quietly, "Grilled chicken with mixed vegetables and a baked potato. Thank you."

Jenna wrote the orders down, repeated them then gathered the menus and left.

Charles took a sip of his tea and gestured towards Erik. "Okay. I'm listening."

Okay. Where to start. . . Erik folded his hands together and rested them on the table. "Okay. So. You know I was having trouble getting anything beyond a passing guest role on TV, couldn't get anything in film. I'd get something and then I'd have to wait until eight months later to pick something up again and six months later another part would come up. It was sporadic and mainly TV stuff. I couldn't get anything more." Charles nodded. This had been a source of worry between them, even with Charles' salary. "So, what you probably don't know is that I was starting to wonder if I was just going to be a background actor my entire career and I couldn't live on that kind of salary. We couldn't live on that salary. On wondering if I would actually have a job from month to month. I know you were doing well at the university but I didn't want to depend on your income. I wanted to contribute. So when I got wind of Eastman working on something that he was sure was going to be a hit, I knew I wanted in. It was going to be a series, trilogy at the very least." Erik shrugged. "So I threw my hat in the ring."

Charles was just studying him now, occasionally playing with the straw wrapper.

Erik took a sip of his drink to wet his throat and continued, "Az fought for them to send me the script, even part of it. When I finally got it, we were in full-on wedding planning and I didn't want to stress you out any more than you already were. So I just said that I had a movie audition, didn't tell you what the project was—claimed I didn't want to jinx it." Something flashed across Charles' face; too quick to nail down. Did he remember that? "So I kept it to myself. We went on with things, with planning. Maybe a week before the wedding, Eastman's assistant called Az and said they were reworking the production schedule and did I mind moving the audition back a couple weeks." Erik shrugged. "I said no problem, thinking we'd be back from our honeymoon by then. I did ask if you minded me doing a movie right after we got back; you said as long as it didn't interfere with our honeymoon, then you didn't mind."

Jenna returned at that point with their food and they ate in silence for a few minutes. Charles eventually asked, "I remember you mentioning something about a big break coming your way, but you never really mentioned it again. Nor do I really remember you studying a script. . . So, what changed? Because clearly something did or we'd still be in L.A."

Erik sighed. "I was in the limo on my way to the church, fighting through traffic, when Az got a call. Eastman wanted me to audition right at that moment. The driver was already turning around when I asked what was going on. I demanded he turn back, that I was already late. Az refused, said I needed this. I did, but not at the cost of us." He shook his head, remembering. "We fought. I finally threw open the door, the car slammed to a stop and I got out. I tried calling you. Several times but nothing went through. I couldn't even get a text out until later."

Charles said softly, "I did wonder why it took hours before you finally texted me. An apology. You must have known I'd be nervous, but I never received anything."

"I wonder now if Az might have done something to my phone, to keep me from reaching you. But he'd have had to have known the change ahead of time. . ." Erik's voice trailed off as this new thought struck him. Had his agent engineered this whole thing? Fucking Hollywood. Good thing he was getting out. "Anyway, I tried the girls, even Hank, but still couldn't get through. By then, I was so incredibly late. Figured I might as well do the audition, Eastman loved it, made me do it again with one of the actresses they'd already cast. Afterwards, I made Az swing by the church for the hell of it. Walked through it alone, hoping you'd somehow still be there but of course you weren't. Why would you be? It was at least three hours later." Charles wouldn't meet his gaze. "I went back to our place, found your keys and the wedding bands on the table and. . . your things. . . the things you couldn't live without. . . were gone. Just empty places remained."

Erik's hand shook as he picked up his cup, hoping the sugar would settle his nerves a bit. "I tried to find you. For years, Charles, I tried to find you and fix things. I lost it. I lost myself when you left. I'm not trying to make you feel guilty or anything but without you, it was like I had no more reason to be happy. I threw myself into my work, took anything and everything. Eastman's movie became a blockbuster and suddenly everyone wanted me in their movies. It turned into a five movie deal. And for a few years, Az was thrilled at my rising star. Then he realized the toll everything was taking on my life.

"This never made it into the tabloids, thank god, but I was in rehab every couple of months. For alcohol. For drugs. I lost weight, got depressed. I did everything to try and forget you but I couldn't. I guess I just couldn't live without you. Finally Az got sick of it and started looking for you. I'm not even sure when that was, to be honest." Erik had to stop for a minute and force the mental door closed. He ran a hand through his hair, swallowed. "I woke up one day, couldn't remember what I'd done the night before, found a note taped to my door with Raven's phone number on it. Took a while to work up the courage to call her. Took even longer to get her to not hang up on me." Charles smiled a little at that. "Eventually we mended our relationship. I sent her the premiere tickets, hoping she could get you to come. Obviously that didn't work. Don't know why I thought it would but I wanted you to come so I could see you, but you didn't and now here we are." Erik paused, his story finally done, and said softly, "I miss you, Charles. Nothing feels right without you."

Charles remained silent, no reaction clear on his face that Erik could see, and looked down at his food. Pushed vegetables around.

Erik felt his heart sink.

Minutes passed.

Finally, Charles said quietly, "I hated you . . . for a long time." Erik winced. Charles continued, "I tried to act like you didn't exist, just flat-out avoiding anything that had to do with you. Raven worried about my wellbeing. I crashed on her couch for months, then on Moira's when Raven kicked me out, saying I had to face the world. She was worried, hoping the jolt would force me to do something. Moira helped me get a job but I refused to . . . to even talk about it, about what had happened. I guess. . . I understand a bit more . . . now, and it was both our faults, I suppose. Maybe if I had waited for you to get home before running away, if I had left a note or something, maybe things wouldn't have gotten this screwed up between us." He fell silent, picking at the remains of his meal, eyes fixed on his plate.

Erik hesitantly ventured, "And now that you know my side?"

Charles glanced up, those blue eyes so bright. "Do you want my side?"

Erik nodded. "Of course." He didn't particularly want to hear about how badly he'd hurt Charles, but they both needed to share.

Charles looked skeptical but spoke anyway. "I remember that day perfectly; it's seared into my memory. Raven insisted on the whole not-seeing-each-other-before-the-ceremony thing. I thought it was silly but whatever. I kept pacing back and forth in my dressing room, trying to keep the nerves down. I kept checking my phone, hoping for a text from you; some sort of reassurance like you always did. But there was never anything. The closer it got to the ceremony start time, the more nervous I got. I tried to convince Moira to let me see you but she told me I had to stay in the room. In retrospect, that's when it started falling apart." Charles sighed. "Hank finally snuck in and told me you hadn't arrived yet. Panicking, of course, I called you but it went right to voicemail. No replies to my texts."

"That would be when I somehow lost service," Erik realized. Shit.

Charles nodded. "Makes sense. But, see, now I was starting to really panic. What if you weren't just late, you were in trouble? Or in an accident? What if you were dying in the hospital and no one knew I needed to be told? Raven kept telling me I was making things worse thinking like that; this was L.A. and it was probably just traffic. Every conceivable excuse ran through my head, every single possible way I could lie to myself and say you were on your way, that at any moment you would burst into my room, pull me close and apologize for worrying me. And every second that that didn't happen, I felt things starting to break."

Jenna popped by at that exact moment, with a bright smile and a refill on their drinks. "How's everything? Food good? Did you want dessert?"

Erik and Charles stared at each other for a moment, Charles' eyes suspiciously bright. Erik said, "Just the check, thank you."

Jenna's tone faltered. "O—of course. Be right back!"

Erik leaned forward, reaching out to squeeze his hands. "Charles, I am so sorry. I should have tried harder to get a hold of you."

Pulling his hands free, Charles shook his head, half-shrugging. "How could you? No cell service and of course no one has pay phones anymore. After an hour, the minister said he had another ceremony to do. After two hours, I finally gave up, found some champagne and drank the entire thing. Raven came in and I just fell apart." He shrugged. "Of course, all the champagne hadn't helped my mood any so I cried; she vowed to ruin your life like any good sister would. The guests had mostly left by then so I met Raven and Moira in the limo we were going to take to the airport. We called around to all the hospitals, tried to reach Azazel. Nothing. No one could find you. So I came to the conclusion that that "big break" you talked about was more important than marrying me and I decided I wanted nothing to do with you." Erik made a pained sound. Charles shot him a look. "You wanted to know everything." Continuing, Charles said, "The three of us went back to the apartment, packed what I decided I couldn't leave behind, left my keys on the table and we were on the first flight back to New York where I spent the next few months depressed and living on my sister's couch."

Charles shrugged. Jenna brought the check. "I tried so hard to put you away, to not think about you. I finally found some sort of stability in my life and then your career took off and your name and your face were everywhere. I couldn't stop seeing you and I couldn't stop wishing things had been different. And then you walked into my community center and I just. . ." His voice cracked then rose in volume. "I wanted to hurt you like you did me. I told you, I asked you not to do the audition. I told you you didn't need some big break, that I just wanted us for a while. Remember? We talked about this. To get out of Hollywood for a bit. To get married, have a real honeymoon away from the paparazzi and you went and did it anyway. I didn't have the full story then but it hurt . . . a lot. So I did what I felt I needed to at the time, for me." He paused, blinked rapidly. "Now I do wish I had waited a bit longer to find out why you didn't show but that's in the past and we can't change any of it now."

Erik closed his eyes, trying to figure out what to say. Trying to get past the lump in his throat at the pain in Charles' voice. Jesus, this was fucked up. How the hell did he get out of this one? Opening his eyes, he found Charles studying him. "I'm sorry. I know it doesn't mean anything now but I am truly sorry, Charles. You're right; we can't change what we did. But we can change what we do next and I would really like for us to move forward. Together. As a couple."

Charles sighed. "I don't know if we can do that, Erik. Yes, everything's out in the open but I finally got my life together and I don't know if I can go back into the Hollywood light again. Don't know if I want to."

Erik had no response to that; nothing that would help, anyway. He could say he was retiring but he was still a huge name, would still be recognized and asked for photos and autographs, still be followed by paparazzi. He pulled out a credit card, slid it into the checkbook and waited for Jenna to come back and run it through the register. Charles avoided his gaze as Jenna glanced curiously between them, grabbing the book as she flew by with a tray.

When she returned, Charles immediately stood up, pulling his coat on. Erik shoved his card in his wallet and stood as well, following Charles to the door. He ached to touch Charles, even to just brush their fingers together, but he didn't dare.

Outside, they paused. Erik ventured, "So. . . where does this leave us?"

"I think. . . I think I just need some time to work through things. You showing up kinda threw me. So. . . we can try at being friends, I suppose, for now."

Erik nodded. "I'll be around."

Charles smiled faintly, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. "Of that I have no doubt. Although I am starting to doubt you are actually working on a film."

Erik laughed. "Yeah, it's just one of those sappy Hallmark Christmas movies. Not much to it, really."

Charles nodded. Frowned. "Wait, I thought you hated those?"

He lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "They're easy. Predictable. But it gave me a reason to stay in New York after the premiere of Battle Magic."

"I see." Charles glanced over his shoulder and back to him. "Well. Good night, then. . . Erik."

"Good night, Charles." He watched Charles walk away, climb in his car and drive off before letting his breath out in a rush. He ran a hand through his hair and muttered, "Well, that could have gone better." Stepping to the curb, Erik flung out a hand to hail a taxi. "But it could have gone worse, too." A yellow car pulled up. He climbed in and rattled off the name of the hotel the film was putting him up in then leaned back against the leather.