Trying to solve everyone's problems except his own had always been one of Charles's vices. One could argue that it was the result of being abused and beaten by his step-family, but he personally chose not to dwell on it.

Instead he just dwelled on everything wrong he's done in life.

Sitting in the car.

Outside of Erik's garage.

For five…ten minutes?

Ehh…

Human emotions were an odd thing. It was obvious that finding closure, whether it was patching up the relationship or formally ending it, would be better than letting it hang indefinitely in limbo, yet he still refused to go do so.

The only thing spurring him on at this point was the fact that Raven said she'd call and make sure he actually talked to him. The door gave a few clicks as Charles pulled the handle, but then he paused again. He remained suspended there for a few more seconds before he shook his head, exhaled heftily, and pushed the door open.

He stepped out, the moderately sized garage suddenly seeming huge to him, and then shut the door with enough force the car rocked gently.

"I was wondering if you were going to come in or not," Erik called, not even turning around from his position on the floor among scattered pieces of motorcycle.

"…You knew?" Charles asked, every analysis of possible conversation paths thrown to the wind in a matter of seconds.

"I tend to take a special interest in cars that sit in my lot without coming in, yes." Erik spoke with the wry wistfulness that implied some sort of inside joke.

"…I see," Charles ultimately responded. That sort of paranoia wasn't uncommon among his officers, who were just so used to scanning for threats that it sometimes bordered on PTSD.

"What brings you to here? Flat tire? Broken air conditioning? Headlight out?" Erik asked jauntily, waving the piece in his hand about, but Charles had done far too much police work to not detect the bitter, flat tones in the rhythm that implied it was fake.

"I'm sorry," Charles said immediately, letting the sincerity flow both verbally and mentally, saying nothing else so to let it sink in.

At once, Erik seemed to stop, all but a mild twitch in the back of his hand coming to a complete halt. His hand froze mid journey to finally put the abused part on the ground, before inching its way to completion. The movements were jerky and slow, a stark contrast to the fluid, precise strokes that Charles had come to love in Erik.

Erik was a lot like the machines he worked with, in that way. Strong, unyielding, with every move planned and calculated, energy carefully conserved and rationed. But if something so simple as an apology could bring the machine to ruin, Charles wondered what he truly was. A murderer, mechanic, gang member, with more to be found. Contradictory, complex, compelling—they were tied somehow, all faces of the same cube, and yet the story contained within was lingering just out of reach.

"For?" Erik asked, having brought his head up to look at Charles now, face shadowed with the pain of an unknown emotion. "I'm the one that walked out on you."

"You did," Charles consented with an incline of his head, "but I was prying at what was clearly an uncomfortable topic, and should not have done so."

Erik's gaze fell again, movements neither as smooth nor as rough as previously. He picked up a wrench, but did nothing meaningful with it, mindlessly tinkering and twiddling with it. "I have been known to react adversely to mentions of my mother's death. I did not want to cause a scene," Erik spoke with the repressed monotone of those who didn't want to speak of what they had seen.

"Perhaps another time, then?" Charles offered, but immediately rectified the statement, "If you want to. Perhaps in private, here or somewhere else, my place …" Charles ultimately drifted off as Erik seemed unresponsive to the offer. "Are we still…?" Charles asked instead, gesturing between them.

"I don't see why not," Erik answered.

Charles felt relieved, taking a deep breath and briefly rocking back onto his heels, and then letting a small smile break across his face. "Are you by chance free tonight?" he asked, but Erik's attention had instead been grabbed by something behind him. Charles turned around in confusion, finding a television in the corner, showing news that he had successfully tuned out until that point.

"—to end in failure. Magneto, the assumed leader of the gang Steel Vipers, has continued to terrorize local communities, driving recklessly, leading large gang runs throughout the city, and occasionally outright performing what appear to be stunts in the middle of public roads. The local authorities want to remind everyone that this is not a legal stuntman, these actions are not part of any show, and he is still wanted and considered dangerous. They urge everyone to call and report any sightings as soon as possible, and to please forward any information relating to the gang or Magneto's identity or location to the nearest police station." The newswoman spoke with the same impartial intonations that all newscasters were expected to have, while certain parts of the story were supported with newer video clips that have been collected.

Charles mostly ignored the story, as it was nothing he didn't know, having approved the request to ask the public for any information. Instead, his gaze redirected to the window, noting the slight sprinkling of snow on the surrounding area. The thought was shortly replaced by the realization that Charles couldn't actually see his car from his position, and that Erik almost certainly couldn't see from his angle, either.

There were plenty of explanations for the apparent discrepancy, of course, Erik may have seen him first go past on the main road, or, having worked here for many years, have become finely tuned to the sound of someone pulling in his driveway. Erik might even have video cameras around, and Charles briefly glanced around the garage before settling a curious look on Erik.

Erik continued watching the news until the story regarding his gang ended, and then stood up. "What do you have in mind?"

"I think," Charles started, expression sparkling with joy, "tonight would be a good night to simply stay in."

"Hm," Erik rumbled as he walked about, methodologically shutting down for the night, closing the doors both large and small, flipping the sign to CLOSED, turning off the television, putting away a few tools, and returning fully to the particular, attentive man that Charles knew. Shortly enough, the last few lights flickered off with a brief electrical buzz, and Erik nodded once, framed only by the light filtering in from another door. He stepped aside, and gestured for Charles to enter.

Charles frowned briefly, as he knew Erik had left things on the floor that he'd rather not step on both for his and the tools good, but stepped forward nonetheless and nothing crossed his path.

Charles crossed the threshold into Erik's living quarters, a warmth blossoming in his chest at getting this far with Erik.

It would be a nice night.

"Alright," Logan stated, buckling his helmet. Charles had lectured them so thoroughly on what they were and weren't to do while on this chase that it almost took the fun out of it.

Almost.

Logan was somewhat of a speed demon himself, so he was admittedly interested in physically chasing this guy down. It beat Hank's methods, at least. He grunted, because before a chase there was a whole lot of nothing waiting for the guy to show up.

"So, looking at the data for his previous appearances, I'm seeing a few trends—"

"Hank. My way." Logan cut him off before he could try anything.

"But if we—"

"No."

Hank went silent. Dispatch would let them know if he was spotted, assuming an officer saw him or someone reported it, which people have not been doing recently, unfortunately.

"Let's roll," Logan said, and he, Raven, and Scott did just that.

This fanfiction is part of a larger AU that I won't be posting here. (I will finish posting this one, don't worry.) But if you're that interested and don't mind AO3, you can find the whole Viper Verse over there. In particular, if you enjoy spy fiction, you may want to consider trying To Protect a Professor. Thank you for reading.