Author's Note: For those of you who are patiently waiting for an update to 'My Name is Max' - I do apologize for the delay! I am working on the next chapter now, but needed to get back into Charles' and Erik's mindsets from this verse, hence the reason for this short. :)
Chapter 6: The Night Before Cuba
An Ending
He sits on the bed with his legs stretched out in front of him, floating the coin in slow, lazy circles through the air. The mansion is quiet now, the occasional footsteps outside his room disappearing completely as the others settle in for the night.
Raven left an hour ago, subdued and seemingly deep in thought but still in her natural form. He hopes their conversation helped her, though he very much doubts that a few words and a meaningless kiss are enough to overcome a lifetime of insecurities. Erik puts it out of his mind; he has far more important things to worry about tonight.
Shaw.
Charles.
He's going to kill Sebastian Shaw tomorrow, even if it means he has to die to make it happen. Erik let him get away once, that night in Miami; he knows he can't - won't – allow it to happen again no matter the consequences.
Even if the consequence is losing Charles.
Their argument in the study clings to him still like a second skin, the words reverberating in his mind.
"Killing Shaw will not bring you peace."
"Peace was never an option."
The buzzing frustration he feels is not for his friend and lover; certainly Charles has never misrepresented his ideals or his intentions. It is Erik's own folly for becoming attached to the telepath; to love him, when love is something he has no room to accommodate and can ill afford. It's a responsibility and a burden, neither of which he wants to carry as he readies himself for confrontation.
Getting mentally prepared to face the enemy used to be easier, when he was alone and never had to wonder what he could be leaving behind.
The coin drops into the palm of his hand and he stands briskly, meaning to shrug out of his clothes and try to get in a few hours of restless sleep. Instead, he finds his own feet leading him out of the room and across the hall, hand hesitating a few seconds before he knocks on the bedroom door.
"Come in."
Charles is sitting on the edge of the bed, bent over and cradling his head in his hands. He looks up when Erik enters, expression neutral though his eyes say everything that the telepath doesn't voice.
You're here.
I love you.
Don't leave.
The door closes softly behind him and the space between them suddenly opens up, a deep and cavernous minefield of familiar arguments and unspoken promises.
"I didn't think I would see you again tonight."
"I didn't think I would come."
There's the hum of a slight presence around his mind, a warm but distinctive touch that he's come to associate with Charles. It brushes lightly against him and then retreats, keeping to their earlier agreement that Charles can read Erik only if permission is expressly given.
Charles gifts him with a soft smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm afraid you'll find my company less than desirable tonight Erik. I don't wish to argue."
He wonders how it's possible that Charles doesn't know – that he actually thinks Erik is here now, hours before they have to leave for Cuba to waste time with more endless debate. Sitting next to him on the bed he takes Charles by the hand and kisses him until he relaxes against Erik's lips. "Me neither."
They settle into an uncomfortable silence, Erik waiting for Charles to speak. This is usually when the telepath takes the lead; to question him, to comfort him or to express his thoughts and feelings in a way that Erik has never had the courage to put into words.
"Why are you here?"
His tone is inscrutable but Erik feels the words sting like a slap to the face. "Do you want me to leave?"
"No, of course not," Charles grips his hand tight and looks straight ahead, taking a deep breath before he continues. "You were angry earlier, when you left the study. I just...I didn't expect..."
Erik sighs and kisses him again, much softer and gentler than he has ever been with Charles. There are so many things he wants to say to this brilliant, stubborn and arrogant man who in just a few short months has become his best friend and lover.
He wants to tell Charles that the telepath saved him in more ways than one, that he hadn't so much lived as survived for long, long years until the night they met in the water.
He wants to tell Charles how beautiful he looks in the mornings, still asleep in Erik's arms as he gently traces the sun-kissed freckles on his shoulders.
He wants to tell Charles that he can almost believe in a future of possibilities; a life shared as partners, the two of them stronger together than apart.
Yet Erik says none of these things because he refuses to make any false promises. He can't give himself to Charles, not yet and not completely. Not until they've dealt with Shaw.
But he can give him tonight – just one night where nothing exists except for Charles and nothing else matters because...
...this might be his only chance. Erik's never really believed that what they have together can last, that Charles won't realize any day and at any moment that he can do better than a man so broken and filled with anger and hate.
"Charles," he pulls the other man into his arms and buries his face in the crook of the telepath's neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his lover's skin. "Charles...I love you."
The early morning sky is still grey and cold when he slips quietly out of Charles' bed.
He takes a moment to watch the telepath still asleep under the covers, memorizing the soft glow of every muscled contour in the morning light and filing it away for safekeeping. It's an image that Erik will carry with him in his heart, this promise of friendship and love and brotherhood.
Home.
He leans over and presses his lips to Charles' forehead, fingers brushing lightly through a wayward curl of brown hair.
When he closes the door behind him, Erik walks away and doesn't look back.
A Beginning
Charles knows, even before Erik gets up from the bed that the other man is making his way over to see him. He should be relieved, he thinks, after their earlier disagreement in the study had ended with both of them heading their separate ways. Instead, Charles is filled with a sense of foreboding; that Erik is coming to tell him that their...relationship, arrangement, he doesn't even know what to call it...is over.
He rubs his head tiredly and takes a deep breath to try and dissipate the tension that's been building in the back of his head all night. Between the boys' anticipation/excitement/fear, his confrontation with Raven and his standoff with Erik, Charles is finding it difficult to keep his shields up and his telepathy in check. It's taking even more of his focus to keep himself from being swamped by the flood of emotions churning through the minds of the others; doubly so for the various combinations of anger/confusion/resentment directed at him from the two people he loves most in the world.
The knock on the door is a token gesture; Erik knows that Charles is fully aware who's standing outside his door. "Come in."
He turns his head and looks up from his seat on the bed, schooling his features and strengthening his shields. Charles has no idea what Erik is going to do or say; he only knows that his lover has spent the last hour brooding in his room, razor sharp focus alternating between himself and Shaw as the subject.
"I didn't think I would see you again tonight."
"I didn't think I would come."
Charles has to stop himself from wincing at Erik's words; he's still reeling from the realization of just how much it hurts to sit across from the person you love, from someone you admire and respect and know that he disagrees with everything you stand for and everything you believe in.
He tries to shake off the trepidation with a smile. "I'm afraid you'll find my company less than desirable tonight Erik. I don't wish to argue."
The tension doesn't abate when Erik sits next to him, taking his hand and leaning forward to press his lips against Charles' in a demanding kiss. It takes him a few moments to push aside the fear and doubt before he relaxes enough to slide his arms around the other man and respond.
Erik pulls away first and runs his thumb gently across Charles' bottom lip. "Me neither."
He waits for his lover to speak, to give some indication as to why he's come to Charles' room tonight. A part of him wants to pretend it's just about the sex – that they can both use a distraction from what's to come. But Charles can feel the determination and fierce intent radiating from Erik's mind and body though he can't divine the content without reading his thoughts.
Frankly, he's not sure he wants to know.
They've never talked about this...thing that's developed between them, since the night they recruited Angel. Erik has always been clear where his priorities lay; that he stays with Charles and the CIA to better his chances against Shaw. That he feels something for Charles is obvious, though he's never shared what and how much with the telepath. And it's not in his nature to push for anything more than Erik is willing to give; though the man's reticence leaves Charles completely uncertain where things stand between them at such a critical junction.
He tries – and fails – to make his question sound light and unconcerned. "Why are you here?"
Erik's face darkens immediately. "Do you want me to leave?"
He flounders, trying to think of something to say that won't send Erik straight out the door. "No, of course not. You were angry earlier, when you left the study. I just...I didn't expect..."
Erik cuts him off with a sigh and then cups his face between his hands and kisses him again, gently and reverently. He seems to hesitate as he looks at Charles, his eyes warm and the lines on his face softening around the edges.
"Charles." He's surprised by the depth of emotion radiating from the other man as he's pulled into strong arms, the sounds muffled as Erik breathes the words against his skin. "Charles...I love you."
It's the last thing Charles expects from Erik, on tonight of all nights. A declaration, a demand and a plea all at once, wrapped in three simple words. He leans back and stares into his lover's eyes and tries to keep his voice even as he whispers, half in disbelief, "You love me."
Erik frowns as he watches Charles' face, expression wary and assessing before his lips curl into a familiar grin. "Come in Charles and see for yourself."
He hesitates only for a short moment before he dives into Erik's mind, letting the thoughts and feelings and memories wash over him like the tide.
Charles is in his thoughts, Erik's respect and admiration for him constant and unerring even when they disagree.
Charles is tied intimately to his feelings, golden and warm like sunshine and bright like a guiding star.
Charles is in his memories, the crook of his lips as he smiles at Erik at that diner in Philly; the sound of his laughter at the breakfast table; the taste of his skin in Erik's mouth.
It's Charles, Charles and Charles – a constant and intense and overwhelming love that would frighten if not for the fact that he feels exactly the same way.
They make love, for the hundredth time and the first time, Erik mapping every inch of Charles' body while Charles burrows himself in Erik's mind. He doesn't know where one begins and the other ends; only that nothing exists but this moment and nothing else matters.
After, when Erik is asleep with arms wrapped tightly around him, Charles allows himself a sigh of relief. The hope blooms dangerously as he traces the curve of Erik's cheek, his heart swelling helplessly with love and affection.
He closes his eyes and lets himself slowly drift off to the sound of Erik's breathing, feeling content and at peace and optimistic for the future.
The last thing he remembers thinking, before he falls asleep is about life with Erik after Cuba. That maybe, just maybe, what they have now is finally enough to keep them together.