So here's chapter two. There isn't any mature content in this chapter, but the next one will be full of it. Just a heads up!
The following day was no different than any other. Erik crossed paths with Charles in the hallway that afternoon, who promptly greeted him with a bright smile and a wave. He wasn't sure what he thought would be different, Charles was a cheerful person by nature. It wasn't as if he would be moping about the mansion just because of one bad night. Erik felt an uneasy knot in his stomach at the thought of yesterday's events. He had never seen the man that upset. When Erik woke up after hours of twisting and turning, he found the bed already made and Charles nowhere to be seen.
He resumed his usual activity of pacing down the halls. It was a Sunday, which meant no training. Erik was annoyed when he first heard the idea of having the weekend's off. The kids needed to hone their abilities, and taking free time certainly wasn't going to help them do that. After several hours of wandering around lost in thought, he found himself at the kitchen entrance; apparently there was some kind of technique to getting around the place he needed to learn.
His timing couldn't have been better, however. The colorful individuals Erik now called students were bustling around the room as they prepared for dinner. A few entertained themselves by balancing plates on their heads and squealing with laughter when they nearly fell. Others were already seated at the spacious dining table and engrossed in conversation. Erik leaned against the door frame and surveyed the activity with a small smirk.
He was jolted out of his reverie by a series of breathless giggles and uneven footsteps. Charles stumbled into the kitchen carelessly, cheeks flushed and eyes twinkling with laughter as he hung off of Hank's neck. His tousled hair fell softly over his forehead, giving him a boyish appearance. Erik's breath hitched in his throat as their gazes met. For a moment they lingered; Charles looking up at him with those wide and innocent eyes, Erik staring into them. The connection broke with a sudden yank of Charles' shoulder.
An unpolished-looking man was skulking behind him with a rather gruff expression on his features. Erik had been so engrossed in his colleague's entrance that he hadn't noticed a new arrival. His brow furrowed in suspicion as he gave the stranger a none too friendly glance, taking in his unkempt mop of black hair and the stubble across his jawline. He hadn't expected Charles to have such brutish company.
"When did you show up?" Erik asked coldly, not enjoying the hand that was still placed firmly on Charles' shoulder.
"I was here the whole time!" The man retorted indignantly, clearly affronted that his presence had gone unnoticed.
Charles, either unable to sense the tension or choosing to ignore it, let out a small chirp of laughter. "You've been ignored," he pointed out teasingly, motioning for Hank to join the rest of the kids at the table.
"Better question," Erik interrupted harshly. He was growing wary of this stranger, especially when his hand still hadn't moved from Charles' shoulder, for god's sake. "Who are you?"
The man grimaced and opened his mouth to reply in what was undoubtedly going to be a smarmy fashion, but Charles sooner cut him off.
"This is an old friend of mine from the Oxford days," he stumbled slightly over the words in his haste to get them out. "Jackson Crawford," Charles clarified. He then shrugged away from the 'old friend's touch, much to Erik's relief. He wasn't sure of the motivations behind his relief, all he knew was that his concerns evaporated slightly with Jackson's nonverbal dismissal.
"Anyway," Charles began with a nervous chuckle. "He's in town for the week and needed a place to stay, so I offered one of our spare bedrooms." He fidgeted uneasily, toying with the hem of his sweater.
If Erik disapproved, he refused to show it. The excitable professor had gotten under his skin many times before, and he wasn't going to let it happen again. Feigning disinterest, Erik gave a grunt of acknowledgment, all the while keeping his eye trained on Jackson. Charles cleared his throat quietly, disrupting the uncomfortable silence. He jumped slightly when both pairs of eyes turned on him.
"Well, I suppose we should, uh, get you settled." Charles stammered, running his fingers through his tousled locks. Erik vaguely wondered what it would feel like to grab hold of those messy curls himself. He flushed uncharacteristically when the ridiculousness of the thought hit him.
"Are you feeling alright, my friend?" Charles had inched closer to him and was peeking at Erik under thick lashes.
The scrutiny of his gaze caused him to suppress a choke and feign extreme interest in a set of dishtowels. "Perfect, thanks."
Charles pouted, seemingly unconvinced by his display. He gingerly moved aside a strand of Erik's sandy blond hair, fingers tracing his jaw lightly as he let his hand fall. Erik closed his eyes as Charles laid a hand gently across his forehead. Charles pressed his own against the other side of his hand, leaving little distance between their faces. This time when he felt Charles' hot breath against his skin, Erik did not move away. One of the two moved forward barely, just barely. Close enough for their noses to meet. And without warning, the blessed contact was gone. Erik felt the warm, sweet breath leave his skin and his eyelids fluttered open. It left him shivering.
"W-what was that for?" he asked hoarsely.
Charles positively beamed.
"I wanted to check your temperature, my dear friend." He explained in that sing-song voice. "It's best when you compare it to your own," Charles tapped his forehead and winked.
Erik could have gaped at him. He winked, Charles fucking winked.
While Erik seemed to be in a stupor of sorts, Charles had turned to Jackson and murmured something under his breath. The visitor had been forgotten on the sidelines; he wasn't happy about it and it showed.
Erik shook himself from his trance to see Jackson giving Charles a look that could only be described as menacing. His eyes almost seemed darker as he and Charles exchanged words in hushed tones. A suggestive step forward from Jackson and a startled jump from Charles told Erik all he needed to know. His jaw tightened, a slight rattling of silverware disrupting their frantic whispers.
The trio was currently unaware that every occupant in the room was fixated on them, sitting in stunned silence as they watched the scene progress.
Charles turned to face Erik abruptly, lips trembling, eyes wider than they should be.
"I think it's best that I get you to bed, Erik." His voice was several octaves higher than normal, even as he tried to disguise it. "I'll leave Jackson to get himself situated."
The suddenly skittish mutant grabbed Erik's sleeve with a quaking hand and dragged him unceremoniously from the kitchen.
Erik made a mental note to keep an eye on Jackson.
Charles took the stairs two at a time, maintaining his grasp on Erik's sleeve.
"What just happened down there?" Erik demanded, fear slowly seeping into his veins. When he received no answer, Erik's frustration grew. There was something going on between Charles and his so-called Oxford friend. And it clearly wasn't anything good.
"Charles," he growled in warning, ready to give the younger man his two cents if he didn't fess up.
Charles stopped. They stood in front of his bedroom door, Erik unsure of how they even got there.
"I can't tell you," he mumbled, almost dejectedly.
This wasn't the Charles he knew. The one who, until just recently, Erik couldn't stand. He'd rather go back to ignoring the young professor than have him moping around. Erik felt an unfamiliar surge of desperation, a fervent need to protect him.
"My friend, you must tell me," he used a gentleness in his voice he never thought he possessed.
"In time, Erik." Charles sighed. He lifted a shaking hand to his face, carefully smoothing back a lock of hair. With surprising steadiness, he ran his thumb across Erik's cheek as he cupped his chin affectionately.
"Get some rest," Charles whispered, fingers grazing his chest before he disappeared down the corridor. Erik tried vainly to still the frantic beating of his heart. The shaken man lay in bed hours later, hopelessly awake. He could still feel the ghosting of Charles' fingertips on his skin, burning a path of prickling warmth in their wake.