Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
A/N: Reviews much appreciated, but of course, not required.*
"You nearly scared Raven half to death," Erik chides. He walks in levitating a metal tray several centimeters above his fingertips.
Charles is sitting in an arm chair by the window, tight lipped and trembling slightly. A table and vacant chair are before him. The lights are off, the only light coming from the window.
"I didn't mean to," he says quietly.
Erik places the tray down and sidles into the formerly empty seat, leaning his elbows on the narrow surface. "I know you didn't," he says. "The point is, you did."
Charles only half shrugs. He takes a cup of tea from the tray and adds a few spoons of sugar to it. He stirs it several times with a slender metal spoon, eyes unfocused.
"She cares about you, you know," Erik continues.
"So I've noticed." He rubs his eyes.
Erik stares out the window. Clouds are gathering, forming a white, overcast film. Charles is stirring his tea again, the spoon clanging against the sides of the china cup. Without even looking, Erik flicks the utensil on to the table. Charles frowns and holds the cup and saucer with both hands.
"Hank says he'll adjust the machine so you wont have such an adverse reaction to it."
"I was fine-"
"Yes, of course, I had forgotten 'passing out' was classified as 'fine'. Silly me." There was a metallic edge to his voice.
"Thank you, by the way," Charles replies. "for catching me." His voice is light and he means what he's saying.
Erik is the slightest bit taken aback. He composes himself and waves it off like it's nothing. "Of course, of course. It's not like I would have let you fall. Metal floors hurt, you know, and being concussed with a cracked skull is never fun."
The tea cup rattles loudly against the saucer in Charles's grip. Erik frowns. He reachers over and takes it from him before he can drop it and spill hot tea everywhere. "You should eat something." He gestures to the tray.
Charles shakes his head. "I'm not hungry."
Erik looks incredulous. "You had unreasonably low blood sugar, probably one of the contributing factors to your little episode, and you're not hungry?"
Charles just shrugs. "I don't eat when I'm not hungry."
"When was the last time you were hungry, then? Yesterday? Two days, a week ago?" His voice rises steadily.
"Please, Erik, you're not my mother. I can take care of myself, thank you very much."
"Well, you're not going mutant hunting, or using Cerebro until you're well-"
"Oh, for God's sake, Erik-"
"No, Charles, you listen. You're the only one who can use to damned machine and you're no good to any of us passed out or worse. The mutant club can wait until it's clear you wont bloody kill yourself for this cause."
Charles slumps back in the chair. He holds his fingers to his temple, an unconscious movement, not aware he was doing so. Quietly, he finally answers, "Risks must be taken."
Erik scoffs and flicks his wrist, annoyed. "Even so, you're not using Cerebro until you're-" He studies his face. "Are you alright?" he asks quietly.
"My head hurts," Charles asks truthfully. "It's fine, it happens rather frequently-"
"Again with this 'fine' nonsense." Erik sighs and gets up from his seat. He points at the tray, wherein lies a sandwich, crackers, and biscuits. "Eat," he instructs. "I'll get you some Tylenol."
Charles stares blinking at the tray. He begrudgingly picks up a cracker and takes a bite.
TBC, shortly
*derp