New Dawn
It took every ounce of Erik's not inconsiderable restraint not to react. He folded his arms, shifted from foot to foot, and pressed his lips together lest something should slip out. He was making an effort. He was trying. And he refused to spoil this.
Luckily, Charles had no such qualms.
He snorted and burst out laughing, attempting somewhat futilely to muffle the sound with the back of his hand. Erik's own lips twitched. Then he met Charles' gaze and broke. He joined in Charles' laughter, ignoring the glares they received from other patrons.
"I'm sorry," Charles gasped eventually, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. "But that is awful."
"Awful is too good to describe that," Erik retorted.
"I'm being generous," Charles scolded. "But, yes, you're right. How on earth anyone thinks that is art is beyond me."
They continued through the gallery, but the standard of the 'art' did not improve. After receiving more and more angry responses, they decided to cut their losses and abandon the art gallery.
"I am so sorry my friend," Charles said as they returned to the streets. "If I'd known it would be that awful, I never would have suggested it."
"I'll forgive you," Erik smiled. "Since it's you."
"What's next on the list?" Charles asked.
Erik pulled the crumpled piece of paper from his jeans pocket.
It had started a few weeks ago. Erik had found himself caught in a conundrum. He was a forty three year old man for heaven's sake, not a teenage girl. He should not be spending this much time dwelling on the best way to ask a man out, particularly a man he was already living with. But it just wasn't that simple. They couldn't have a regular date, because people would see and they would know and they would come after them. But Erik wanted to do something for Charles, wanted to find a way to show him he was serious and committed to finding a way for this – them – to work. Besides, Charles' world in Krakow extended to their flat, the library and the grocery store. It was hardly the freedom he was accustomed to. And perhaps therein lay the solution.
"Do you want to see more of the city?" Erik had asked, dropping into the chair opposite him.
Charles raised his eyebrows at the unexpected question.
"I'd love to," he replied.
"Okay," Erik nodded, before leaving a bemused Charles at the table.
The next day, he made a hurried trip during his lunch break, and when he returned to the apartment that evening, he presented the results of his excursion to Charles. Who remained bemused.
"What's this?"
"Ideas," Erik had shrugged, before vanishing into the bathroom to shower. Charles sifted through the pile of leaflets, clearly taken from the tourism office, and smiled. That unpredictable, crazy man.
And thus, the list was born. When he wasn't reading about genetics or spinal cord injuries, Charles began researching their new home. Krakow was one of Poland's leading academic, cultural and artistic centres, often cited as one of Europe's most beautiful cities. As such, there was much to explore. And this was where the list came in. One afternoon, with the leaflets Erik had collected and a guide book borrowed from the library, Charles has started scribbling down ideas of places to go on a scrap of paper. Over the following days, the list grew. Krakow had 28 museums and public galleries; it was just their bad luck that they had randomly chosen the one with the strangest collection either of them had ever seen. Other items on the list included the Krakow Philharmonic, Wawel Castle, and Remah Synagogue.
Erik perched on the edge of a wall, therefore bringing himself level with Charles so they could study the list together. And if he sat a little closer to Charles than was strictly necessary, no one was paying them enough attention to notice. Besides, the little smile Charles fought and failed to conceal made it worth it.
"Why don't we just head to the Main Market Square?" Charles suggested. "It's far too nice a day to spend hidden away inside."
"Spoken like a true Englishman," Erik smirked.
Charles stuck out his tongue, eliciting a laugh from his friend.
They took their time, making a circuit of the square, pausing every so often to look at the architecture. Then they parked themselves on a bench beside St Mary's Basilica, facing the Cloth Hall, to eat lunch.
"Try this," Erik said when he returned from the nearby street vendor. He held out what appeared to be a paper-wrapped half baguette, covered with cheese and mushrooms and toasted, with a liberal garnish of ketchup on top.
"What is it?" Charles asked.
"Zapiekanki," Erik replied. "It's new, but it's good."
Charles shrugged.
"I'll try anything once," he grinned. "You know," he commented between bites. "It really is a beautiful city."
Erik regarded the square around him properly, with new eyes. He'd never really taken the time to look at his surroundings before, not properly. Krakow had simply become his destination because it was far away from America and Washington DC and a certain telepath, hopefully far enough away that he would avoid the attention of the authorities. His grandparents had been from Krakow, although he had no memories of them. They died when he was a child. But it was a connection, one not even Charles was aware of, and it gave him a starting point. It was never supposed to become his home. He'd supposed that eventually he would carry on with his cause. But that was before Charles, before the letter, before that idiotic telepath had faked his own death to follow a wanted terrorist halfway across the globe.
Now, looking at the city properly for the first time, Erik realised Charles was right. It was a beautiful city. Even though Poland was still largely grey, fighting its way through Communist restrictions, the beauty in the old architecture could still be seen. It was, Erik mused, a gift of Charles', to be able to see the good through layers of dirt and grime. He smiled.
"Yes," he agreed. "It is."
"I'm glad I'm here," Charles said. "With you."
Erik caught his eye, a warm feeling spreading through his chest. Almost unrecognisable, Erik realised it was the feeling of being wanted.
"Me too," he nodded.
XXX
It was strange, Erik reflected, how such small changes could make such a huge difference to one room. Yes, the studio apartment was still small and damp and whenever it became cold the windows fogged up with condensation. But with the addition of a pair of lamps on either bedside cabinet, the room appeared so much warmer with the extra light. Even the pile of medical journals on one side made him smile, and the shoes at the door made him roll his eyes – if only because he liked to irk Charles by calling his shoes off at the door rule ridiculous. Really, it was simple what the difference was: the room now looked lived in, instead of merely habited.
"I had fun today," Charles commented. He sat leaning against the headboard on his side of the bed, pillows in place to support his back, while Erik was stretched out across the bed, propped up on one elbow, his other hand gently carding Charles' ankle through his slacks. The remains of their dinner lay abandoned on the cabinet on Erik's side of the bed.
"Me too," Erik agreed.
"Despite the terrible art," Charles smirked and Erik's head fell back as he laughed. His grip on Charles' ankle tightened, and he noticed Charles' gaze fall on it.
"You feel that?" Erik asked.
Charles shrugged.
"Maybe. Sometimes I think..." He sighed. "I don't know."
Erik could see the doubt clouding over Charles' eyes and pushed himself up, crawling up the mattress until he was level with his lover. Placing his hand on Charles' waist, where he knew the other man could feel it, he leaned down and kissed him. Eventually breaking the languid embrace, he stared down at Charles and said, "I love you."
"I know," Charles smiled, running his hand up Erik's neck into his hair. "I love you too Erik."
Erik recaptured Charles' lips, enjoying how slow and relaxed they could be. There was no hurry. They had all the time in the world. It was a new experience. But one he already knew he never wanted to lose.
XXX
Erik woke to the feeling of warm contentment that follows a well-earned rest. He stretched, opening his eyes slowly, while coming to the realisation that he'd slept later than he had in years. If ever. Letting his head fall to the side, he smiled when he found Charles, still sound asleep on his stomach, face mashed into the pillow. Erik raised his hand, running his knuckles gently over Charles' side, earning grunt from his sleeping companion. He smirked, but didn't cease.
"Are you trying to wake me up?" Charles mumbled. "Because it's working, and I'm not happy about it."
Erik chuckled. With a sigh, Charles pushed himself up onto his elbows, leaning across to brush his lips against Erik's.
"Morning," he murmured.
"Morning," Erik echoed.
Charles fell back down against the pillows, in no hurry to shift out of bed and away from his partner. Really though, they needed a better title for whatever they were. 'Partner' just seemed so impersonal, and 'boyfriend' far too juvenile. 'Husband' had a nice ring to it. Suddenly he realised Erik's face had fallen slightly, a small frown creasing between his eyes.
"What's wrong?" Charles asked.
When Charles had reached up, the sheet covering his back had slipped down, so when he lay down again, Erik saw the small, round patch of puckered skin next to a surgical scar at the base of Charles' back. Reaching out, he let his fingertips ghost over the puckered skin.
"It's the first time I've seen them," Erik murmured.
"It was an accident," Charles whispered. "We were all to blame."
Erik continued to run his fingers across both the bullet hole and the scar to repair the damage, without putting pressure on them, exploring every ridge and curve to them.
"Erik, stop it," Charles said. Erik quirked an eyebrow, but otherwise ignored him. "Stop," Charles repeated. "It's... sensitive."
Erik smirked.
"Sensitive?" he echoed, still continuing to let his fingers run over the damaged skin.
"Yes," Charles replied. He narrowed his eyes. "You're an arse."
Erik grinned and dropped a kiss to his shoulder. Suddenly an idea struck him. He glanced up at Charles, who clearly interpreted exactly what the twinkle in Erik's eyes meant.
"Don't you bloody dare," he warned.
Now there was a red rag to a bull.
Erik leaned down slowly and pressed his lips to the skin above the scar. Charles stilled. Erik ran his hand across Charles' lower back, before placing one last kiss above the scar and moving up to lie next to him.
"You're evil," Charles muttered.
"Old news," Erik smiled, leaning into his side.
"But I love you anyway," Charles continued, taking Erik's hand in his own.
"Good."
"Do you have work today?"
"No," Erik replied, dropping his face into Charles' hair.
"Good," Charles murmured.