This is the place, you say to yourself, where everything starts to begin, the wounds reveal a thicker skin and suddenly there is no floor. - Richard Siken
Erik's eyes track Sasha's every movement while Charles is away at the hotel front desk. She tugs uncomfortably at the hem of her denim shorts, her loose V-neck- Charles' having estimated poorly and bought a size or two too large, something that surely would have offended any woman who hadn't lived in the forest for roughly twenty years- slipping down her shoulder. Her ears and tail were gone, which irritated Erik to no end, though he grudgingly accepted that flaunting her mutation at this particular time and place might slow the progress of their current venture.
For all of his travel and experiences, Erik has seen plenty of women. Plenty of beautiful women. Women that were strong, or brilliant, or passionate. Some that were cold and calculating, like Shaw's telepath. Women that were angry, like him. Many that were broken.
His eyes might linger on the tanned skin of her inner thighs, but that's not what inextricably draws him to her. It's how she is completely and wholly untamed. Everything she does is colored with a shade of honesty that is rare to find among humans. Small things, like her open discomfort in clothes, to the way that she lets Charles completely into her mind in a way that Erik, regrettably, cannot. Despite her naiveté and childish optimism, Erik senses a ruthlessness just waiting to be released.
"Um, Charles," Sasha starts, shuffling over to him and nearly tripping over her new sandals. "I don't mean to be difficult, but could you maybe get two rooms instead of three? I'll sleep on someone's floor, I don't mind, it's just…"
"You're afraid of sleeping alone," Charles supplies. Erik wonders if it's a new fear, bred of chains and being kept in a dark back room, or if it's something she's always faced. "Of course."
Sasha smiles then, and it's such a bright and peaceful emotion that Erik almost forgets why having feelings for her might be a bad idea. But he doesn't.
Outside of the adjacent hotel room doors, they pause in a moment that is awkward for everyone but Sasha. Erik figures to hell with it. Sasha doesn't seem to grasp the concept of embarrassment and Charles isn't going to poke fun at his pride later.
"You can sleep with me," he offers.
In your room you mean, Charles projects dryly.
Sasha's furred ears slip out and twitch as Erik continues with, "We wouldn't want Charles to slip into any nightmares you might have, would we?"
How selfless of you, Erik.
Flipping open the door without the aid of his key, Erik gestures silently for Sasha to slip in. While Erik sets his small suitcase down on the foot of the bed, she makes herself at home and pads her way directly to the bathroom. The shower starts and Erik pointedly tries not to think about it. And fails.
Behave, he hears Charles' teasing voice.
Keeping my hands to myself doesn't mean keeping my thoughts to myself. I'm not a saint.
Erik feels a tickle of projected amusement, and then, I fear even saints couldn't resist.
So why, pray tell, are you listening in? Voyeurism doesn't suit you, Charles.
I was merely getting a grasp on the situation. And offering my concerned opinion.
Erik doesn't bother to hide his flare of annoyance. And would that opinion be that you think I will hurt her?
Certainly not. Not physically, anyway. I only feel that you are both in a state of your lives where acting upon any carnal feelings with each other might be unwise.
The door to the bathroom opens and Erik immediately feels Charles slip from his mind. Erik flicks his gaze towards her and is more surprised than he should be that all she's wearing is a towel. He keeps his face blank as he calmly asks, "What are you doing?"
Not calmly enough, apparently, as Sasha's face immediately scrunches up in mild irritation. "Come on, it's bad enough that I had to wear clothes out there, you can't expect me to sleep in them!"
Erik wants to be difficult and manipulative and say something unmovable like, "If you want to stay in my room you'll do as I ask. Otherwise run off to Charles." But he's mostly afraid that she'll call his bluff and actually leave.
"At least the undergarments," Erik compromises wearily.
Placated, Sasha beams and darts back into the bathroom to dress. The metal in the room starts to rattle as Erik questions his sanity.
Afterwards, she stands uncertainly in the doorway, the dim yellow light of the bathroom highlighting her in a way that makes her skin look almost golden. The capitulation of her lacy black bra and panties is nothing but a taunt to Erik. He knows enough from Charles and the way her eyes glaze when she watches him that he could have her if he wanted. And he certainly wants. But he also knows enough that he shouldn't.
Sasha tiptoes unobtrusively towards the center of the room, sliding gracefully down to her knees on the cold floor. She curls in on herself on her side, tail flicking out to wrap around her for warmth.
"What are you doing now?" If Erik's voice is rougher than the last time he asks, Sasha fails to notice.
"Sleeping," and it's almost posed as a question as she raises up on an elbow. "Why? Is there something else I need to do?"
Erik can't quite find the right order for the words he means to say, so instead he slips into bed and folds back the blanket on the empty side. "Here."
He's well aware that, had she gone to Charles room, the man would've taken to the floor for her to have the bed to herself. For as much as they are the same, they are different.
Sasha's eyes go soft as she crawls in beside him, the gesture meaning more to her than it should. "Thank you," she whispers, pulling the blanket up only high enough to rest at her hip.
Erik's fingers itch to touch. Instead he turns his back to her without another word and waits for sleep to come.
In the morning Erik wakes first to find a pair of strong arms locked around his waist. Sasha's panting warm, sleepy breaths against his back, her forehead resting between his shoulder blades.
Erik extricates himself after only a minute or two, careful not to wake her.
Erik drags her along by her wrist only so she'll stop waving and smiling pleasantly at the agents that gawk at her as she passes. It grates at him that, even after all she has been through, she does not know to distrust those who see her as a freak.
Honestly, Erik. A bit of staring doesn't mean-
Get out.
Charles notices her wince of pain when Erik does not. He places a hand on her hip and pulls her close to his side, watching as she slips through the other man's fingers.
Erik watches the concern play across Charles features as they trail a few steps ahead of him. He wonders how things will unfold. How things might be different, in the end, when it comes, if she had chosen Charles' room that night. How she might have picked the wrong path at the crossroads.
Erik watches the boys' eyes flick between Angel, Raven, and Sasha as if they don't know where to rest. As if they are sitting before a feast, starved for days, and have no idea where to begin.
Angel notices the attention, unimpressed and unmoved, used to such a thing. Raven, hidden behind pink skin, silently soaks in their admiration. Sasha remains oblivious.
"Make yourself comfortable," Charles says with all the arrogance of a man who can enter any space and make it his. "Everyone here is like you. Like us."
"I had no idea there were so many," she breathes stepping towards the cluster of children.
"Oh, my friend, there are so many more." Charles gestures for his sister across the room. "Raven, this is Sasha. Could you help her settle in? She's not exactly used to… Social situations."
Erik snorts, remembering the already recycled argument the three of them had that morning, regarding her attire.
"Sure!" Raven looks fascinated by her already, charmed by her physical mutation. "Come on, I'll introduce you to everyone while these old fogies take care of business."
"We should think of codenames," Raven pipes up from beside Sasha on the couch. "We're government agents now; we should have secret codenames." A few encouraging looks are sent her way before she continues, "I want to be called Mystique."
"Damn! I wanted to be called Mystique!" Everyone laughs lightly at Sean, even the aloof looking Alex.
Raven shifts, like she's barely concealing her excitement. "Well tough, I called it." And then she ripples blue before turning into an exact copy of Sean, and all Sasha can do is stare in amazement. "And I am way more mysterious than you."
They clap and she shifts back into her peachy-blonde form, and Sasha wants to ask a million and one questions but the rest of them are already moving on.
"Darwin, what about you?"
"Well, uh, Darwin's already a nickname. And you know, it sorta fits. Adapt to survive, and all. Check this out," he says rising to his feet. He struts over to the fish tank, a confident bounce to his step. He dips his head in among the fish, and almost immediately gills spring from the sides of his face.
A round of applause and cheerful hollers follow, but Sasha springs to her feet, eyes sparkling, positively thrilled. "That is... You can adapt to anything?"
"Well, I haven't really put myself in so many situations," Darwin shrugs. "But probably."
"How about you, Baby Doll?" Angel asks from where she's sitting cross-legged on the opposite couch. "You some sort of kitten?"
"I'm a fox."
Sean laughs in to his drink, "Yeah you are."
"Idiot," Alex scoffs before turning to Sasha. "Can we see?"
Her shirt is shucked and her pants are at her ankles, but it isn't until she reaches for the clasp on her bra that Raven, of all people, reaches a hand out to stop her. Which is just as well, because Hank looks five seconds away from having a heart attack. "Maybe later?"
"We should call you Vixen," Angel drawls in amusement. Sasha is pleased with this even before all of the others chime in with their approval.
"What about you, Sean?"
Later, after they've all showed off and they're working on destroying the room they've been sequestered in, Sasha pulls Raven aside. "When you change you flicker blue for a fraction of a second. Why?"
Raven's soft cheeks flush under her innocently curious gaze. "That's just… What I am. I'm blue. When I'm not changing, I'm blue."
"Why aren't you blue now?"
And Raven almost wants to get irritated at the way this woman clearly doesn't understand what living in the real world is like, the way her ears unintentionally mock her. She doesn't get mad at her, though, because there's something in her golden-green eyes that's sad. Sad on behalf of Raven, and Raven wants to understand that.
"It would scare humans. It makes other mutants feel uncomfortable. Cute ears and a tail are one thing, but if you're blue, well…"
Sasha's brow furrows and she lets out a solemn sigh. "Why does their comfort matter more than yours? That skin must feel like… Well, like clothes feel on me. Like you can't stop thinking about it- it's just this constant weight, all itchy and too tight."
"Exactly," Raven smiles, and she can't explain her utter elation at someone finally getting it. It's something entirely different than Erik telling her she's fine the way she is, because he'll never really know what it's like. But Sasha does.
The innocence melts away from Sasha's face to morph into a wicked smile. "I won't tell if you won't."
Raven cackles and drops her illusion, as Sasha ignores the stares from behind them and strips back down to her underwear.
"What are you doing?!"
The seven of them freeze, Hank falling from the light fixture. Raven almost reflexively slips back into her blonde shell, but spares an uncertain glance at Sasha, who stands proud even half-naked.
Moira continues to stare disapprovingly, hands on her hips. "Who destroyed the statue?"
"It was Alex," Hank caves quickly, sending a wave of snickers through the others.
"No," Raven interjects. "Havok. We have to call him Havok, that's his name now. And we were thinking…" She points first to Charles, "You should be Professor X," then to Erik, "and you should be Magneto."
The response from Moira, Erik, and Charles is less than pleased. Charles looks severely disappointed, in fact. And Erik just looks vaguely mocking, and almost resigned.
"Exceptional," the German mutters, stalking off, with Moira not far behind.
If possible, Charles' frown deepens further. "I expected more from you." And he follows like he can't bear looking at them.
The rest fall silent, until Sasha raises her chin in determination. "I'll talk to them."
"It won't help," Raven mutters, shifting into her disguise. "We have a million conversations like this, and Charles never listens. And Erik will just stare at you with murder eyes."
"Erik can stare all he likes- I'll know I have his attention. And maybe Charles will listen to me because I'm not his sister. But whether they listen or not, I'll still talk at them, because I don't care what they think of me." It's not said aggressively, just matter-of-fact, and it's this that gives Raven a tiny spark of hope that Sasha might get through to them.
The cold grass crunches between her toes as she runs after them, quicker by far, making it easy to catch up.
"Now's not the time," Charles says, feeling her presence close by. "Please get your clothes."
"No," Sasha defies plainly, making the three of them pause and turn. "I appreciate you saving me, Charles. I do. Honestly. You're amazing and you do amazing things, but I don't have to be here. None of them do. Yes, you've taken most of them out of unpleasant situations like mine, but they do have a choice. And the fact that they've chosen this deserves some respect."
"They deserve only as much respect as they give," Erik counters with a curl of his lip.
Sasha gives him a smile that holds no actual joy. "They- we- didn't mean anything disrespectfully, Erik. We were experiencing what it was like, for the first time, to belong. Shouldn't we be allowed a little happiness before we put our lives on the line?"
"There's a time and a place for that," Charles answers tiredly.
"Yes," she agrees, and Erik would have thought she was playing them with those wide, sweet eyes and fluttering lashes if emotional manipulation was something common in the wild. "But when is that time, Charles? You can't really know, can you? Life will sneak up on you. I think we all know that."
Erik rolls his eyes and storms off, throwing over his shoulder, "You're a fool."
"He doesn't mean that," Charles lies through his teeth.
Sasha huffs out a laugh, unoffended in the face of it. "I don't have to be a telepath to know that he does. You can go after him, Charles. I can tell you're itching to talk to him. Just think about what I said, and maybe give them a break."
He nods shortly, spinning on his heel and disappearing into the shadows.
Moira stays behind, meeting Sasha's eyes squarely. "I get where you're coming from," she says reassuringly. "You just have to understand that we're worried. If they're not ready there could be serious consequences for everyone."
"We'll be ready," Sasha replies firmly, but not unkindly.
"I believe it," Moira smirks. "Don't prove me wrong." She starts to go, but then turns back at the last second, leaning in to speak quietly. "And don't stop standing up to those two. They'll need it, sometimes."