'Charles!' William's clear voice rang out across the room. The painter tried not to wince, but smiled instead and joined the table. Erik was already there, smoking and drinking. The restaurant was full of people, some of whom Charles would not like to offend. He could see them exchanging whispers out of the corner of his eye. The painter and his muse, he imagined them saying.

William patted him on the back. 'Good of you to come, Charles.'

'Not at all.' He regarded the pair shrewdly. What had they been up to? As far as he knew, they had been out every night since they had been introduced. Charles cursed that day often.

'We're going to see a play,' William said. 'It's marvelous, you must come. Erik has a box.'

'A play?'

'Yes, it's called An Ideal Husband and it's absolutely hilarious.'

'You've seen it already?'

'Twice.'

'He's quite taken with the leading lady,' Erik said, producing a blush in William.

'She's very talented,' he said.

'Ah, well, I shall be delighted to see it with you,' Charles said. They had a drink together before leaving to change for the evening's festivities. Charles hated going about in white tie, but even he had to admit it would be unseemly to appear in the theatre in his usual frock.

The play was very clever, but the leading lady was, in a word, dreadful. Charles didn't have the heart to tell William, and simply smiled whenever the young man complimented her acting. Why on earth had he fallen for this woman? Erik seemed to enjoy it far more than necessary, taking some perverse pleasure in watching William experience his first love. He was probably betting on the day she broke his heart.

Charles would not allow that. He would save poor William from her machinations.

'She's heaven,' William was saying as they descended to the lobby afterwards.

'She is certainly something,' Erik murmured from behind them. Charles shot him a look over his shoulder, smiling at William a moment later.

'She is unique.'

'You could sketch her,' William kept on. 'Her hair, you could capture its light so beautifully.'

'I'm sure...'

'Oh no.' William stopped dead three steps from the bottom. The lobby was crowded with people commenting on the play. Mayhap the playwright was somewhere receiving praise. 'My father,' he hissed.

'Where?' Charles asked. He had heard very little about Mr. Buxton, other than he and William did not get along. He put a comforting hand on William's arm. 'We'll leave at once.'

'Too late,' William said. A man emerged from the crowd. He had grey hair, though very little of it, and was thin like his son. William had inherited most of his looks from this man, apart from the nose, which was broader. If not for the look in his eyes, his face might have been seen as kind. He wore white tie and carried a cane.

'William,' he intoned. 'I did not know you were seeing this.'

'Yes, I'm here with friends.'

'School friends?' Mr. Buxton's brow furrowed.

'No, this is Mr. Charles Xavier, the painter,' William said, then stepped aside to reveal Erik, 'and this is Sir Erik Lehnsherr, Sir.'

'I am familiar with both,' Mr. Buxton nodded to both in a polite enough manner. 'I know your work Mr. Xavier, and I often enjoy it. Sir Erik, I am... familiar with your activities.'

'I'm glad my reputation precedes me. Saves me time,' Erik said. He pushed past Charles and William. 'If you'll excuse me, I see a few friends I must greet.' He quickly made himself scarce. The coward.

'William, you will come home with me.'

'Actually, I-'

'You've been out and about for two weeks,' Mr. Buxton informed him. 'You will accompany me home. I'm feeling tired and need your arm. Come along.'

'Yes, Sir.'

'Will-' Charles began, only to be silenced by a look. This is not the battle to fight, it said. William would go now and come back later. Charles gave him a reassuring smile, and William returned it with a hint of sadness, of loss. Charles hoped it meant William wasn't as lost to Erik as he had feared.

After they had left, Charles descended into the fray to find Erik, who chatting up Lady De Burgh. He whispered what had happened in his ear. Erik made his excuses and they left together in Erik's hansom. The cobbles were the only sound as they traversed the dark city, Charles' mind foggy with the possible outcomes of their impending argument.

'I assume Mr. Buxton is the typical severe father figure, more concerned with discipline and fear than true respect and affection?'

'I don't know much,' Charles admitted. 'But William has intimated to me that his father does not approve of him becoming an engineer.'

'Of course he doesn't,' Erik sighed. 'We shall have to save him.'

'You care so much?'

'He's a good lad. Idealistic and young, full of potential.'

'Everything you're not,' Charles laughed.

Erik smiled. 'Yes, I suppose we will have to be his patrons as he finds his way in life.' He looked at Charles, his face oddly serious in the dim light of the hansom. 'I hope you don't hate me for showing him a good time.'

'I could never hate you, Erik,' Charles said. 'You are my oldest friend. And only friend, most days. I just wish you wouldn't- I don't know. Before, when it was just William and I, and the painting...'

'You're jealous,' Erik teased. 'You think I will steal him away.'

'No! Of course not. Don't be silly.'

Erik bumped his shoulder against Charles'. 'You are. But don't worry. He's entirely devoted to you. He talks about you so much I think you will appear as if he conjured you.'

'Really?' The knowledge filled Charles with warmth. His art was saved. He smiled. Erik looked out at the streets. They stopped in front of Charles' house. 'Do you want to come in for a drink?' Erik often came inside after the few nights he managed to drag Charles out.

'No, I'm tired. I think I will surprise my wife by coming home before her.'

'Right. Goodnight then. Give my love to Joan.'

'I will. Goodnight, Charles.'

Charles watched the hansom disappear down the street. Why did he feel as if he had disappointed Erik in some way? He shook the feeling away and went inside. He decided he would send a message to William tomorrow, asking him to come to tea, giving him an excuse to leave the house.

He felt so restless he decided to write the note right away so it was ready for tomorrow. Jacob had been told to not wait up, so Charles sat alone at his desk with just a single candle. About halfway into explaining why it was vital William come to tea at once, the front bell rang. Charles took his candle and approached with caution.

'Charles?'

'William!?'

Outside, William was the picture of despair, with his tie undone, and face wretchedly depressed. 'I am terribly sorry, but I just had this awful row with my father. I don't know where else-'

'Don't think about it,' Charles said, ushering him inside. 'Come, please. I haven't a guest room ready, but the sofa is comfortable. Come, let me get you a strong drink!'

'Thank you. Thank you,' William kept saying. They went to the study, and Charles lit a few more candles. William all but collapsed on the sofa. Charles got a glass of port for the lad.

'What happened?' William took the glass and downed its contents, sending him into a coughing fit. Charles took the glass away and sat down next to him.

'He's found me a wife!' William said. 'He is completely insane. All he thinks about is money and position.'

'I'm sure he also cares about your happiness.'

'He thinks I will be happy doing what he does. He doesn't know-' William looked up, eyes watering from the coughing, and maybe the outbursts. 'He has no conception of the joy I have felt since meeting you. Without you, I would not have had the courage to tell him what I truly want. Which is to be an engineer.'

'William,' Charles said softly. 'I am touched by your regard, and gratified that I've helped you. Do not worry, you are always welcome here.'

'Thank you, Charles.' William smiled. He touched Charles lightly on the cheek. 'My artist. My portraiture.'

His beauty was undeniable this close. Charles had been drawn to it since the moment their eyes had met across a crowded room at his last exhibition. Together with his current intensity, Charles began to believe that he had been the one to down the port. He sat very still as William continued to touch his his face. He moved closer. Oh, dear, this was actually happening. Charles' heart was hammering out of his chest. William leaned close. Charles leaned back- too slow- and their lips touched.

It was a good deal softer than Charles had imagined a kiss from a man to be. He was holding himself so still he was getting an awful chink in his neck.

William pulled back abruptly, a look of guilt marring his face.

'Oh, dear, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have. I mean, Erik and I weren't-'

'You and Erik?' Charles stood.

'Yes, but no,' William shook his head. 'It was just, to show me, as part of my- it didn't mean anything, I swear.'

'Get out.' Charles turned away.

'Charles, please, let me explain.'

'Get out.'

'But Erik-'

'GET OUT.'

William left.

XXX

The was a dreadful banging coming from the front door. Why wasn't Jacob answering it? Charles' head was pounding along with the person at the door. Finally, it stopped.

'Charles!'

Erik stormed into the study, where he found Charles sleeping at his desk, head on the note he had been writing, an empty glass and carafe next to him. He slowly lifted his head, propping it up with one hand.

'Please, not so loud.'

'I'm sorry. Is you head HURTING!'

'Stop, Erik, please.' He glared at his visitor. What on earth had him so upset? Then, with a sinking feeling, it all came back to him. He had thrown his friend out last night. Into the street. 'Oh, god.' He put his head in his hands. 'Where is he?'

'He's at home, having breakfast with Joan. They got along famously right off, not that you care.'

'Erik, I- I don't know what happened.'

'Neither do I,' Erik said. 'William won't say a word against you, except that he had attempted to come here first, and had to leave over a small disagreement.'

'Yes, he-' But how could he explain? He couldn't explain it to himself. One moment he had been experiencing something wonderful and terrifying, and the next he had been filled with such blinding jealousy.

'What happened?' Erik asked. His anger had faded into concern.

'Nothing. I can't speak of it. Please, would you give William a message for me?'

'Why should I do anything for you, when you won't even explain?'

'I can't explain.'

'Let me read the note then.'

'No.'

Erik breathed through his nose, then nodded. 'Fine. I just want this sorted, so write your note.' Charles threw away the letter he had been working on last night and scribbled a new one. He wrote that he was more sorry than he had even been, that he had no excuse, and that he truly couldn't explain himself. If William saw it fit to forgive him, they need never speak of the incident again.

He folded the note once and came round the desk to give it to Erik, who put it in his breast pocket.

'I hope you make up,' Erik said. 'He's wretched, and I have quite enough of that sort of thing from Joan.'

'I'm sorry,' Charles said.

Erik nodded. 'Yes, I know.' He left without another word, and Charles went back to resting his head on his desk, until Jacob came in and asked if he wanted a bath and coffee.

These things did much to restore him, and by three o'clock he was almost like himself, except for the nagging feeling of guilt. He tried to work, but he was useless. At six o'clock the bell rang and Charles waited anxiously for Jacob to show whoever it was inside.

It was William, peaking into the study like an errant school boy. Charles was so grateful he beckoned the lad inside and took him in his arms.

'I'm so sorry.'

William pulled back and gave him a small smile. 'Apology accepted.'

'But you were tossed out like some-'

'I caught a cab to Erik's address. He paid for it,' William admitted. 'I didn't walk for more than a quarter of an hour. I was perfectly fine. It was you I was worried about.'

'Why would you worry about me?'

'Because you were so upset, when I told you...'

Charles went to the study door, checked Jacob was in the kitchen, and closed it, and returned to William.

'You must know it meant nothing,' William said.

'And what would it mean between us?' Charles asked. 'What about your actress?'

'It's got nothing to do with her,' William said. 'She's a goddess. I want to marry her one day, I'm certain. But Erik has taught me so much, Charles.' He took Charles' hands in his and forced him to meet his eyes. 'About life, about pleasures.' Like the night before, he touched Charles' cheek, leaning in.

For a split second the image of Erik and William came to him, and in the next he was kissing William fully.