Charles gasps, but does not pull away.
This is a bad idea. He knows that, but- it's been so long since someone had touched him, and for a moment, just a moment, he allows himself to breathe in the comforting, smokey smell of leather and motor oil, allows Erik to reach his broad arms around him and hold tight.
For a moment, the world stops.
For a moment, nothing can harm him.
But the moment is over and Erik is breaking the kiss, his hands leaving Charles' neck. Charles makes a small noise of protest.
He feels high, dizzy from pheromones and human contact.
"Charles," Erik whispers, voice hoarse. "This is a bad idea. You know it is."
"You kissed me," Charles points out.
Erik lets out a surprised laugh. "Yes, I suppose I did, didn't I?"
"You want this." It wasn't a question.
Erik winces. "Yes... God yes. But we can't. I'm... I'm no good for you."
Charles wrinkled his brow. "Why do you get to decide what's good for me? I'm not a child, Erik. Look, I have the ID and everything." He reaches towards his pocket, but is stopped by Erik.
"You don't even know me." In the background, a voice whispers, He's right, Xavier- look at you, still willing to spread your legs for the first person to show you kindness. You should be ashamed of yourself.
Charles ignores it. "But I want to?"
He winces as hears it come out as a question.
Erik looks at him, eyes wary. For a long moment, he is silent.
"All right," he says finally. Then he grins. "I think I owe you a drink, anyway."
"I don't think you do." Charles points out with a laugh.
"No, I'm pretty sure I intended to buy you a drink, but was interrupted. We should fix that."
"Why, Erik," Charles says with a soft laugh. "If I didn't know better, I would say you were trying to seduce me."
"In front of your son? Kinky."
"He's not actually..."
"Yeah, he is." Erik stands up. "I've seen the way you look at him. You love him. He's your son."
"I think perhaps you are confused as to the meaning of the word, my friend. My ward, perhaps."
"No, I'm not." He grins. "Now, about that drink..."
"Erik. It's one in the afternoon." A thought occurs to him. "You said you work the night shift- when did you get off?"
"8 this morning," he supplies, apparently at ease with the sudden shift in conversation.
"Do you not sleep?"
"Sleep is for the weak."
Charles suprises himself by laughing. "Ah, good to see that 21st century male machismo is alive and well, then."
"How about coffee?"
"Hmm?"
"Instead of the drink. Since you have some kind of prejudice against drinking liquor in the afternoon."
"My friend, everyone over the age of 16 has a prejudice against drinking liquor in the afternoon. It's trashy."
"Oh, good, you are of age then? You have no idea how relieved I am."
Charles smacks his arm lightly. "Yes to the coffee, then. Kurt should get out of the cold, anyway."
"Yeah..." Erik trails off. "He really needs some mittens, you know."
Charles buries his face in his hands. "I know. Come on, there's a good café a few blocks east of here."
"So what did you study?"
"Mm?" Charles looks up from where he had been fussing with Kurt's sweater. He has evidently taken the mere existence of icing as a physical challenge on his person, and is conducting an experiment into just how far a couple tablespoons be spread over one small boy.
Erik is watching him with amusement.
"You're a teacher, right? I asked what you studied."
"Oh," Charles straightens. "Biophysics, actually. At Columbia. And yourself?"
Erik fixed him with a wry look. "Right, Charles, I just clean schools at night for fun- I'm actually an engineer."
Charles flushed. "Sorry, I- Nevermind. Please accept my apologies."
Erik waves a hand. "It doesn't matter. School and I never got along too well. I was a smart enough kid, just..." he shrugs. "Anyway. What do you do with a biophysics degree?"
"In my case? Teach angry freshmen about the difference between a eukaryote and a prokaryote. Sometimes we draw food webs, as well, so that's exciting."
Erik raised his eyebrows. "So why did you go into teaching, then?"
Charles sighed. "I'm embarrassed to admit I had some rather romanticised notions of the field, but... That wasn't all of it. I mean, it's important, I still think it's important, but the state of science education in this country is horrifying. We're failing our good students and abandoning those who need more help- it's frustrating, that's all."
Erik nodded, and inspected his coffee cup. "How would you change it, then?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"You know. If you were the supreme ruler of schools-"
"-I expect you mean Director of Education, Erik-"
"-How would you change it, to make it teachable?"
"Well, first off, I think it's absurd to have freshmen taking biology and chemistry and physics separately from each other. Why not just teachscience at the lower level, and- and show how beautiful it can be? Teach them about- about the stars, about the sea, about the- the millions of tiny miracles that keep us all alive and breathing? Noone enjoys classifying organisms. Why not- the universe is quite a beautiful place, my friend. Chaotic, yes, and ruthless, but beautiful. And they can't see that. Not with the way we're teaching them."
Charles took a deep breath, flushing a deep red when he catches Erik smirking at him, a twinkle in his eye.
"Sorry. Uh, I got rather ahead of myself, I think. Sorry about that, Erik. " He forced a laugh. "Moira calls that my, er, my science evangelist speech."
"Well, I can think of worse things to evangelise for."
"That's what I said!"
Erik laughs. He reaches over to smooth a hair out of Charles' eyes.
"Charrles!" Kurt squawks. He sounds angry, although Charles can't imagine why.
"Yes, Kurt?"
Kurt lets out an angry, high-pitched squeal. "Want! Yaw-kuhb, nooooooo!"
"What?"
Kurt continued to screech.
Charles felt his heartbeat triple in speed. "Kurt, buddy, what's wrong? Can you tell me what's wrong?"
Kurt responded by flinging over his cup of hot chocolate, soaking through Charles' jacket and into his white shirt.
"Kurt! What is it?"
He continued to squeal, which was rapidly turning into a scream.
Charles felt numb. Something was wrong. Shit, shit, shit. What should he do? What would normal people do?
"Charles!" Someone was touching him, gripping his shoulder tightly, and he instinctively stepped away, waiting for the grip to turn crushing.
"Hm?" His eyes had not left Kurt, who was slowly turning red with anxiety.
"Take. Him. Out. Side. I'll clean up."
The spell was broken, and he could move again. He looked at Erik, who looked nearly as frantic as he felt. "Go!"
Charles did as he was told, and carried the kicking and screaming boy out into the cold day, his tiny fists beating a tattoo against Charles' shoulder.
"Kurt. Kurt. Tell me what's wrong."
There was no reply. Charles was starting to wonder if Kurt even understood him.
He continued to scream.
"Shut UP! For Christ's sakes, child, shut the fuck up!"
If anything, that only made him cry harder. Charles flushed with guilt, and resisted the urge to shake the boy. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"Sorry. Buddy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. But you need to tell me what's wrong."
By the time Erik came out of the coffee shop, Charles felt close to tears as well.
He exhaled softly. "A raincheck, my friend? I think perhaps we had best go home."
Erik nods, looking uncomfortable.
"See you Tuesday, then."
"Yeah," Charles echoed hollowly. "See you Tuesday."