Over the course of the next months, many things were accomplished, easing the stress on Charles's mind. All the paperwork to start Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters (Raven's name – but it's impossible to argue with the girl once her mind was set) was finished and approved.

Cerebro II was well in progress. Hank was certainly working (and succeeding) at making the place more modern. Or at least modern for the 60s. Elevators and advanced kitchen technology had been installed. Hank even made Charles a new wheelchair. It was skinnier than the old one, eliminating the problem of door frames. Everyone had agreed that fixing a wheelchair was much easier than every door. As a surprise for Charles's birthday, Erik even created two rather groovy X's to fit the wheels of his chair.

Erik. That was another thing that had eased the stress. It was nice to have the moral support of someone his own age. He didn't feel as bad asking Erik to do something for him, instead of his younger students.

Charles was beyond thankful about how the kids had responded when they told them about their…relationship. Charles didn't want to bring it up unless it arose, but luckily Erik thought differently. He saw it best to tell the kids before they found out in a more…embarrassing…way.

The kids had even taken to calling them 'Mom and Dad,' though they'd never say it to their faces. They wouldn't dare call Erik 'Dad' unless they wanted a piece of metal flung into their skull. And they wouldn't call Charles 'Mom' since he too should technically be called Dad. However, being a telepath, Charles knew all about these secret names. Charles didn't bring them up to Erik because, secretly, he was dying to see Erik's face when one of them let 'Dad' slip.

The only thing left to do was clean out the rooms, which is what the group's task was today. They had split into 'teams' so to say: Alex and Sean; Hank and Raven; and Charles and Erik. Each team had a floor of their own to clean through. Originally the kids wanted a competition, but no one could agree on a prize and/or consequence, so it was decoded on bragging rights. Which, in a house of mutants, is worth more than someone would guess.

And the person who wanted to win more than anyone, was Erik. He needed to win because he couldn't imagine being constantly reminded he'd lost. Unluckily for Mom and Dad, they were stuck with the hardest of all floors. The second floor. Much of floor one had been cleaned out within the past few months. The third floor was barely touched, but only had about 10 rooms. The second floor was as big as the first floor, but only had enough rooms cleaned for the current residents.

Charles had a lot of work ahead of him if he didn't want to be tormented by Erik for the next month.

Erik was leaning against the kitchen counter, starting in on a fresh cup of hot coffee. "Erik, if you want any chance of winning, we'd better start soon." Erik nodded,

"Okay…" Erik said, Charles spun around, "Oww! OW! OW! OW!" Erik screeched, with each ow louder than the previous.

Charles spun around again with a sudden feeling of worry, "What? Are you okay?"

"It's really hot," Erik stated calmly. Charles raised an eyebrow. "The coffee. It was really hot," Erik repeated, with a true laugh behind each word, finishing it up with a grin worthy of a shark. "Well Vicar, are you coming to help me clean or not?" Erik said, sounding dead serious, leaving Charles in a fit of muffled giggles rolling behind him.

"Should we each take a side of the hallway to clean?" Charles said as the elevator reached the second floor, trying to conjure a strategy.

"Oh my dear lab rat, do you honestly think you could dust the top shelf without me? Of course we're cleaning the rooms together."

"I sure hope you never call me those names in front of the kids. I might have to come up with a name for you if the situation presents itself," Charles said smugly, but in a laughing manner.

"I'll make a note to do so," Erik replied quickly, flashing a smile.

If you do, I'll have one of the kids call you dad Charles thought to himself. "Shall we start?" Charles said, rolling through the first doorway.

"Shall we start?" Erik mimicked, "Why are you so proper Charles?" he asked while placing his hands on Charles's shoulders.

"I'm not going to answer that," Charles rolled away from the metalbender's grasp.

"Fine, how do you suggest we start?"

"Not a single clue. Clear everything out?"

"Wow. Did they teach you that at Oxford?"

"Shut up. Well what needs to stay in here for the students?"

"Why should I know? You're the professor," Erik said, lightening it up with a smirk.

"Well, a bed…" Charles started.

"Duh."

"…a dresser…"

"M'kay…"

"…a desk for homework…"

"Aw…you think they're going to do homework…how adorable."

Ignoring the comment, Charles continued, "Maybe an end table, lights, a rug? We shouldn't supply too much, should we? I mean we want it homey, right? But they should be able to have some decision…"

"O Charles," Erik butted in, "quit stressing yourself out. Let's just start from the beginning – how'd you put it before? 'Clearing everything out'? Let's just start there…"

Charles gave a small nod.

"You okay Charles?" Erik said, a little more seriously. "Hey, you okay?" he asked again, kneeling down this time.

"Yeah…it's just a lot, you know?"

"Yeah. I do know," Erik said, and leaned forward, giving Charles a hug, "Hey, I know, okay? And I'll help with all of it: alright?"

"Alright."

"Right. Now let's not let a bunch of teenagers show us up? Deal?"

"Deal," Charles said, truly smiling. It was times like these that he loved having Erik around.

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