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A/N: A "bonus scene" that takes place during this chapter (right after the second 'o0o' break) will be available on my profile under the title 'Chipped Bonus Scenes,' but if you want to read those parts of the story, you might as well just read the chapter in its entirety on AO3. A link to the AO3 version of the story can be found on my profile (right bellow the disclaimer and the link to the Reviews Lounge, Too).

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Chapter 9: Valued, Treasured

Erik stretched out his power, feeling the sturdy weight of the newly-reinforced training room all around them like a tortoise's shell, like armour. The two Summers boys stood in the middle of the room, facing one another. After carefully making sure the red-lensed glasses were securely fitted over Scott's eyes, Charles and Beast had retreated to stand near Erik.

"We're clear," Beast said.

Alex nodded, though he of course must have already seen they were nowhere near where his brother might hit were the glasses to fail.

"Whenever you're ready, Scott," Charles added encouragingly.

Shaking his head, Scott grabbed for Alex's hand.

"Hey, it's okay," Alex said, gently ruffling his brother's hair. "You can't hurt me, remember?"

Scott nodded. "I remember."

"Come on, Scott," Alex said as though he were trying to convince a much younger child to try an unfamiliar vegetable. "Open your eyes."

After a short moment, Scott let out a soft gasp. Erik could hear the grin in his voice when he said, "They're working!"

"That's great, Scotty!" Alex grinned broadly.

Clutching at Alex's hand, Scott hesitantly asked, "Can I turn around then?"

"Of course you can," his brother replied. "Doctor McCoy, Charles, and Magneto are here."

Turning to face Erik and the others, Scott grinned joyfully at them. "The glasses work!" Face turning solemn, he asked, "Which one of you is Doctor McCoy?"

Erik and Charles both turned slightly to look at Hank who cleared his throat and replied, "I am."

Running up to the furry, blue doctor, Scott threw his arms around him, saying, "Thank you. Thank you for the glasses so I can see again." Pulling back to look up at Hank, he added, "And for taking care of me." Then, grinning crookedly he said, "You're like a monster from 'Sesame Street.'"

Erik couldn't help wincing slightly at the word 'monster,' but both Charles and Hank were grinning like the child had said something positively adorable, and Alex was chuckling and ruffling his brother's hair affectionately.

'Sesame Street'? Erik asked Charles.

You...you've never seen it? Charles shot a small frown his way, one eyebrow raised. It's a children's program with puppets: Cookie Monster, Grover...Herry Monster—they're all blue and furry.

Ah. Erik nodded, understanding. Though why Charles seemed so surprised that he was unfamiliar with televised puppet shows was...less easy to grasp.

"Charles helped make your glasses," Hank was telling Scott.

"That's me," Charles supplied helpfully with a small wave. "Though I really did very little; I'm still quite new to the position of Lab Assistant."

Trust Charles to downplay his own importance, his own contributions. These 'everyday' glasses as McCoy had described them had taken a surprisingly short amount of time, even compared to what Erik had come to expect from his doctor. He didn't doubt an extra pair of hands came in...well, handy. Erik was quite glad he hadn't said anything quite that stupid out loud. Recently.

Untangling himself from Beast, Scott gave Charles an enthusiastic hug as well. "Thank you for helping."

"It was my pleasure," Charles said with a sincere smile, gently stroking the boy's hair. "I'm just so glad you can see now. And Doctor McCoy and I will soon have a special pair of goggles ready for you that will let you control your power. Won't that be lovely?"

Stepping back until he was leaning against Alex, Scott shrugged one shoulder, chewing on his bottom lip. "I guess." He scuffed at the floor, looking down, then suddenly looked back up at Beast, blurting out, "You don't have to bother; these glasses are fine."

"The other goggles will actually allow you to use your power," Erik cut in. He hadn't intended for his voice to sound so hard.

Behind the red lenses, Erik imagined Scott was staring at him. Nodding slowly, Scott just said, "I know."

"Scott," Alex said, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "This is Magneto; he's the leader of the Brotherhood, and he's very kindly let us stay here after he rescued us from that lab. He's a very important man."

Erik tried to ignore the way Charles smirked at the 'important man' comment. "Yes," Erik said. "I'm very glad the Brotherhood has been able to help you, Scott. I hope you enjoy exploring our base now that you can see it. And when the other goggles are ready, I hope you'll enjoy being able to use your power at will—this, where we are now, is our training room, and you'll be able to practice using your powers in here."

Nodding solemnly, Scott swallowed, pressing his shoulders back against his brother's legs.

You don't have to terrify the poor child, Charles chided in his head.

I wasn't intending to, Erik protested.

After shooting Erik a soft, sympathetic smile, Charles said to Scott, "There is one more person who helped make your glasses, if you'd like to thank him."

Brightening, Scott nodded.

Charles' eyes grew unfocused and his brows drew together in concentration for a few moments and then Azazel appeared in a puff of sulphurous smoke, quirking an eyebrow at Charles who smiled brightly at him. "Scott," Charles said, turning his attention to the boy. "This is Azazel. He helped Doctor McCoy find the crystals we used to make your glasses. He's also the one who brought you here the day you were rescued."

Azazel's tail moved lazily about his legs as he smiled lopsidedly down at Scott, spreading his arms at his sides with a dramatic flourish. "You can see me now—do I alarm you?"

Squaring his shoulders, Scott stepped forward and held out his hand to Azazel. "Thank you for helping me—and my brother."

Accepting the handshake, Azazel grinned at Alex then at Charles. Looking back down at Scott, he said, "I am very glad I could help."

Someone mentioned something about eating—supper, Erik thought—and then Alex, Scott, Charles, and Hank filed out of the room leaving Erik and Azazel behind. Erik was still trying to decide why he was apparently more terrifying than the guy who looked like the devil, when Azazel spoke, "I like these children; we should find more of them. Adorable."

"Children?" Erik quirked an eyebrow at him. "You make it sound like we have more than one."

Azazel smiled crookedly. "Don't we?"

Erik narrowed his eyes and shook his head slightly. "Not only is Alex clearly a teenager, but he's hardly 'adorable.'"

"This Charles is adorable, though, no?" Azazel bared his teeth in a terrifying approximation of a smile.

Erik told himself that if Azazel did that in front of Scott, the kid couldn't help but be scared. But of course it was what Azazel had said that was important. Erik's jaw clenched, teeth pressing against each other in a way that was sure to cause a headache if he didn't stop. "Charles is not a child." Charles was older than Alex, in fact.

"He's what, eighteen?" Azazel gestured vaguely with one hand.

"Nineteen," Erik ground out.

One side of Azazel's mouth turned up. His eyes were mocking. "Oh, of course. So I suppose he is not a child after all." He looked away across the training room, pushing his large red hands into the pockets of his slacks, then looked back at Erik. "He is still adorable, though."

Erik couldn't exactly argue with that, but... He pinched the bridge of his nose. "What's your point?"

Azazel gave him a serious look. "None of us like to see him cry." Looking away across the room again, Azazel added, "He seems happy now—this is good. You should make sure he stays this way, or—" He shot Erik a dark look. "—someone else will." A smile played at the corners of Azazel's lips. "This is not a threat, Magneto, merely an observation. Or...friendly advice. Take it however you will."

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Charles? As Erik walked through the hallways, he could feel the distinctive, unmistakable bit of metal that was the mutation-suppression device in Charles' head hovering near the table in the kitchen.

We're in the kitchen, Charles replied.

I know. Erik suppressed a wince; he'd like very much to have some other—any other—way to track Charles' movements with his power.

Alex is making macaroni and cheese—Hank is making a salad; would you like to join us?

That sounds good. Entering the kitchen, Erik walked up behind Charles and wrapped his arms around him. He buried his nose in Charles' soft, brown hair. You smell good.

Turning his head to smile brilliantly at him over his shoulder, Charles said, "Erik," then leaned back against him, resting his head on Erik's shoulder and sighing contentedly. "Will Azazel be joining us for dinner as well?"

"You'd have to ask him." Erik's arms tightened involuntarily around Charles as he tried earnestly not to project the most blatant of his possessive thoughts. What do you think of Azazel?

I must admit I don't know him very well yet, but he hasn't given me any reason to dislike him. His mutation, of course, is infinitely fascinating. Frowning slightly, Charles glanced back at Erik. Why do you ask?

Erik hummed against the side of Charles' neck. I think he may have just threatened to steal you from me.

Charles let out a soft, surprised laugh. I suppose he can try. Turning his head to look into Erik's eyes once again, Charles added, It's not going to work, of course.

Good, Erik thought, kissing him.

"Wow," Alex said, spoon stilling in his hand as his eyes widened in shock.

Beast cleared his throat awkwardly while determinedly scraping chopped cucumber from the small cutting board into the salad bowl before beginning to methodically chop an apple.

And Scott just sat perfectly still in his chair, apparently staring at Erik and Charles from behind the red lenses of his glasses.

Blushing slightly and ducking his head, Charles asked in a low voice, "In front of Scott, Erik?"

Erik raised his chin and looked unapologetically at the assembled mutants. "And why not? We should never be ashamed of who and what we are. Or who we love."

Flashing Erik what was perhaps the most blinding smile he'd seen to date, Charles straightened in Erik's grasp without pulling away. "No, I suppose we should not."

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Charles reclined on Erik's pleasantly rumpled bed, stroking a captured pawn absently as he considered his next move. Erik sat across the chessboard from him, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his crossed legs. When the metal pawn in Charles' hand vibrated almost as if it were pleased with the attention, his gaze flew to Erik's face.

Erik smirked lazily at him. "Were you going to make a move anytime soon?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Charles said, affecting an apologetic expression. "Were you getting bored?" He rubbed his thumb deliberately over the smooth round head of the pawn and then—looking back at the board as though lost in thought—brought it to his mouth, rubbing it ever so casually across his bottom lip. He couldn't resist peeking at Erik though his lashes to judge his reaction.

Erik's mouth was open and his eyes were wide, staring at the pawn in Charles' hand as though they were drawn by a magnet—which, in a way, Charles supposed they were.

Closing the pawn in his fist, Charles suddenly started laughing. "Erik," he insisted, trying valiantly to calm himself enough to speak clearly, "you couldn't possibly. Not after..."

Erik smiled easily at him, apparently not offended by Charles' levity. "I'm afraid my imagination has a rather optimistic view of my physical stamina."

"I'm sorry," Charles said, finally calming his laughter and setting down the pawn before finally moving another one. "It's my fault of course; I was—well, clearly I was intentionally provoking you."

"You enjoy the attention," Erik commented, capturing Charles' pawn with one of his own. "I have noticed."

Dropping his gaze to the corner of the chessboard, Charles bit his lip. "You don't—you don't mind?"

Chuckling warmly, Erik reached across the board to gently stroke Charles' cheek with his knuckles. "How could I?"

Charles swallowed. He felt as though he should return Erik's smile, and the way Erik's eyes crinkled up at the corners was truly endearing, but he found he couldn't at the moment, and he wasn't even sure why. Erik had all but said he loved him, in front of Hank and Alex and Scott no less. And it seemed—even without proper use of his telepathy—that Erik truly did care very deeply about him, perhaps even love him, though Charles knew that meant different things to different people, even when they were all being one-hundred percent honest.

Erik interrupted Charles' thoughts by saying, "I want to make you something. A gift—something you could wear—a necklace, a bracelet, a ring?"

"Something I could wear always?" That was truly a lovely idea.

"If you wanted." Erik was smiling perhaps the softest smile Charles had seen from him.

Charles' brain was stuttering a bit over the presented options. A ring certainly had its appeal, but... "Could you make a bracelet or a necklace that only you would be able to remove? Without a clasp or..." Charles picked at a loose thread on Erik's blanket, not quite meeting his eyes.

"Oh," Erik said, the word a quiet exhalation. "I could—is that what you want?"

Charles nodded, two tiny jerks of his head. Please.

"Then I will." Leaning across the chessboard, Erik took Charles' face in his hands and looked into his eyes then closed the distance between them and kissed him, a soft press and a gentle brush of his lips over Charles' own.

"I—" Closing his eyes for a moment, Charles let out a shaky breath. "Can I sleep here tonight?"

"Of course you can." Erik sounded surprised and a little confused. Of course you can.

Charles managed a smile for him then.

As Charles returned his attention to the chessboard, Erik pulled the bottommost of his chest of drawers open, floating out a metal box and began sorting through the contents with his power. "Would you prefer links or one solid piece?"

"Oh." Charles slid his bishop forward, attacking Erik's unguarded knight. "For a necklace, I suppose links would be much more comfortable, but for a bracelet it really wouldn't matter, would it?"

"Hmm." Erik spun several shiny bits of metal in the air in front of him—some silvery, others shades of gold to copper. "If it's something you can't take off, links would probably be more comfortable regardless. Especially for sleeping."

Charles nodded. "I suppose you're right." Looking down at the board, he added, "It's your move."

Without even glancing at the board much less touching any of the pieces, Erik moved his rook to guard his knight. He grinned blithely at Charles, the bits of metal tracing smooth patterns in the air. As they started forming themselves into links, Charles completely forgot about the game, too entranced by the sight. It reminded him a little of how he'd always imagined a dragon might fly, twisting itself about in the air as the sun flashed off its scales, as its own eyes glowed like coals in the hearth. It reminded him a little of fireflies, floating unconcernedly, unaware of how their beauty called to the hearts of dreamers everywhere.

"So," Erik said once he had a length of glossy chain formed, "necklace or bracelet?"

The word 'both' stuck in Charles' throat, and he was pretty sure he hadn't quite projected it either. He swallowed. It wouldn't do to be greedy, not when Erik was offering him a gift. "What—what kinds of metal are you using?"

"Silver," Erik answered, "gold, platinum, and copper. I, uh—" Erik glanced down then back up at the metal he was manipulating. "I want it to be unique, distinctive; something I can easily recognize. I have some titanium, but not here with me. If you wanted, I could probably acquire some adamantium or even vibranium."

"No this—just this—is perfect." Charles grinned. "And, um—" Charles glanced down, tugging at the cuff of his shirt and twisting a loose thread he found there between his fingers. "I think I'd like to be able to see it—easily, when I'm wearing it, so make it a bracelet." After a brief pause he added, "Please."

"Hold out your wrist." Erik's voice was soft.

Charles offered up his left wrist as instructed, and the chain snaked smoothly over his skin, encircling his wrist and fusing together at the ends. Charles blinked. He could no longer tell where the ends had even been. He turned his wrist, shaking it slightly, experimentally.

"How does it feel?" Erik asked.

It felt like being desired, like being valued, treasured. Charles swallowed, blinking several times.

"I can change it, change anything about it of course," Erik said. "It's important that you like it, and that it's comfortable."

Fixing Erik with a determined gaze, Charles took a breath. He was sure he was beaming when he began to speak. "It's fantastic, Erik. It's brilliant. I love it." He all but leaped across the chessboard—uncaring if he jostled the pieces or ruined the game entirely—to straddle Erik's lap. Burying his fingers in Erik's short hair, he kissed him, pulling back to grin at him. Holding his wrist up between them, Charles admired the bracelet, watching the light glint off the different metals as he turned his wrist. It really was far too small to slip over his hand, no matter how he might try—he'd basically need wire-cutters. If I asked you, would you take this off for me?

Of course. Erik stared up at him, stroking gentle circles on Charles' lower back.

Charles leaned in and nuzzled at Erik's cheekbone. Then I'll have to be sure not to ask.

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A/N: So...did you notice that important thing Erik said when he said it?

(Also, they're basically married now, right? ...or at least engaged.)

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