Title: Just One Dance
rating: T (rating will chance in later chapters)
pairing: Erik x Charles
summary: AU. Victorian Era. When his little sister gets an invitation to an old family friend's estate, young Charles Xavier goes along as Raven's escort, where he meets Erik Lehnsherr, who is as mysterious as the estate he calls home. (based loosely on Jane Eyre with Michael Fassbender and the multiple Victorian fanvids on Youtube. Will have many references to Jane Eyre and a few to other Marvel Universes)
LXLXLXLXL Ch. 2: In Which Chess is Played XLXLXLXLXLXLXLXLXLXLXLXLXLXLX
"Charles! Charles wake up!"
Charles sat up with a start and an undignified grunt. His eyes smarted in the sudden brightness of the open coach windows. "What's wrong?" he asked automatically.
"Nothing." breathed Raven. Her smile was illuminating. "We're here."
Charles sat up fully and looked out the window. There, out of his window, stood Thornfield Hall in all it's heavy stone majesty.
It was indeed a fine building, built some two hundred years previous and kept meticulously by the Lehnsherr family, who had bought Thornfield Hall when they had moved from Poland during the time of the current Mr. Lehnsherr's grandfather.
"So we are." Charles mused. He turned and grinned at his sister. With a flourish, he opened the door to the carriage and made a graceful jump to the ground. Or at least, he tried to make a graceful jump to the ground. His leg must have fallen asleep while he slept, and with a shocked yelp, he hit the ground on his hands and knees, his nose an inch from the dusty ground.
Raven's infectious laughter brought him back to his senses. She clamored down from her perch in the handsome with much more grace than her brother, giggling under her breath.
"Need help?" She asked even as she hauled her older brother to his feet.
"Thank you." Charles smiled, patting down the knees of his breaches. "I suppose I just looked like an old man, didn't I?" he chuckled.
Raven grinned, and took her baggage from the coach driver. "Well," she looked thoughtful, "I suppose it's because you are and old man."
"Oh, is that right?" Charles asked in mock-distain, taking his own suitcase and walking cane. "Well at least I still have all of my hair, even in my old age."
Raven chuckled again as they made the short walk up to the gates of Thornfield Hall. "But who knows for how much longer."
Charles laughed with his sister, but still managed to casually run his fingers through his wavy brown locks and glance at his hand for loose strands, which of course there were none.
At the door, a very beautiful, exotically dark skinned woman waited. She introduced herself as Miss Salvadore, the "Mistress of the House", and lead them both inside.
"Alex will take your baggage up to your room." she insisted at the foot of the wide main staircase. She turned to the left, and in a shockingly loud voice, called out "ALEX!"
And almost instantaneously, a brawny young man with hair as blonde as a daisy's face came from what had to be the kitchen. He had dirt on the knees of his breeches, and his skin was tanned from the sun. The groundskeeper, Charles guessed.
"Alex, can you take Mr. and Miss Xavier's bags to their rooms?" Miss Salvadore asked, "Mr. Lehnsherr specified that they are both to be boarded in the Eastern Wing, and that Mr. Xavier was to be boarded in the room across from Mr. McCoy's room."
Alex took a moment to look both Charles and Raven up and down, one blonde eyebrow cocked. "Funny," he said, smiling cynically, "I thought you both were gonna be a pair of old maids."
"I beg your pardon?" Charles asked, blood rushing to his face.
Alex blanched, "I…I just mean that most of Mr. Lehnsherr's friends are…well…I mean he doesn't have many friends but you're young…and…" Alex's eyes flicked to Raven, "…handsome." he said after a pause. There was an awkward pause. "I'll…just take your bags."
With his shoulder's hunched, Alex hauled the luggage up the great staircase and out of sight. Charles followed the procession of bumps and scrapes from the ceiling as Alex hauled the suitcases to their respective rooms.
"Now, if you'll follow me." Miss Salvadore said after a pause. "I'll show you around."
"Miss Salvadore," Charles said, catching up to the woman.
"Call me Angel please. Only Mr. Lehnsherr ever calls me Miss Salvadore."
The house was sprawling, grand in a way that England hadn't seen in a long time. This sort of house was going out of fashion these days. Charles and Raven met the other staff, which was only a single other person, the gardener, Hank McCoy.
Charles knew the look on Raven's face when they were introduced to Hank, who had a long, elfish face with two bright bluish eyes and a muscular, lanky body. Raven's lips had turned up into a half smile, teeth showing, and her blue eyes glinted. Poor Hank, Charles mused, he's in for a wild ride if Raven decided she fancied him.
However, as Charles and Raven were led upstairs to freshen up, Charles realized there was one face he hadn't seen in their expansive tour: Mr. Erik Lehnsherr himself.
"Miss Salva-Angel," Charles corrected himself at the burning stare Angel shot at him, "where is Mr. Lehnsherr?"
Angel waved her hand as if it were no big deal. "Out riding I suppose. He could be gone for days at a time when he gets the urge to ride that blasted horse, Iron." as they reached the top of the stairs, Angel added, "If you get bored, feel free to walk the grounds. They're not very pretty this time of year, I'm afraid, but worth looking around. There's a bridge not far from here that has lilies beneath it." Angel added. "Here's your room." she motioned to a simple brown-wood door, "and this yours." she motioned to the opposite one for Raven.
The siblings thanked Angel, and she departed down the stairs, yelling for Alex again.
Charles tried puttering around his room for a while, reading a book, even reorganizing his clothes before finally giving up, pulling on a top hat and thick wool overcoat, intent on taking a walk of the grounds, as Angel had suggested. He knocked on Raven's door, with no success, and then, walking stick in hand, trotted down the stairs and through the front doors and out onto the beaten path that descended from Thornfield like a single lock of mossy brown hair.
The trees here were so much wilder looking than at Charles' estate-unkept, un-looked after. The path was laced with fungus and moss. Charles shivered as a cold damp air came up to meet him. He wandered aimlessly, kicking stones with the toes of his leather boots. He was snatched out of his thoughts when the stone he had just kicked landed with a plop into water.
Charles looked up and realized he had found himself at the bridge Angel had told him about. It was hardly a bridge however, more of an elevated bit of path over a small pond that was inexplicably completely covered in sudsy white lilies which bloomed even at this time of year. They cast up their fragrance like a soothing, tempting cloud which Charles followed eagerly with his nose.
He delicately slid down the bank of the pond and stopped at the edge of the water, looking at the flowers. The flowers were pure white, all of them identical in their elegant milkiness. The air was perfumed heavily and it made Charles' head pleasantly groggy. He sighed, taking a deep breath of air in.
"Excuse me!" a voice behind him made Charles jump…right into the lily pond.
Charles shrieked as he fell head first into the lily pond, startled by a voice behind him. When he looked up, he found himself being stared down by a man that deserved a full paragraph of explanation.
He had shorn dark hair and a sharp brow, under which lay two keen light green-gray eyes. His mouth was large, and pulled back in a half amused smirk that reminded Charles oddly of drawings of sharks in his biology textbooks. He wore rich clothes all in dark colors with bright silver buttons. He carried a riding crop in his right hand. He was much to handsome. Handsome was too little of a word to describe him, Charles decided. Adonis? Dangerous? Predatory?
"Who are you?" the man asked, and Charles started, realizing he had been staring.
"Charles Xavier." Charles stood promptly, took a step, and slid on a submerged rock back into the pond with an undignified yelp and an almighty splash.
The man leapt forward and held out an elegant hand for Charles to take. Charles slopped to the bank of the pond and the two of them stared at the other.
"Who are you then?" Charles asked peevishly. He was damp, uncomfortable, chilled and now he had some blasted handsome stranger smirking at him.
"I," the man said slowly, flashing his shark-like teeth, "am Erik Lehnsherr, your host I believe, Mr. Xavier."
"Ah." Charles said dumbly, eyes widening. So this was Mr. Lehnsherr then. "Well, I'm very sorry for falling into your pond, Mr. Lehnsherr" Charles' face screwed up and he sneezed magnificently. "I'm terribly sorry."
"Well, I'm sure the lilies didn't mind," Mr. Lehnsherr said, motioning to the pond, where the lilies were already drifting back to cover up the disturbance as if it hadn't happened, "and please call me Erik."
"Then I'm Charles. No Mr. Xavier to me, if you please." Charles said, trying to remove the miffed edge from his voice. This really was a miserable way to meet his host.
"What were you doing down here anyways? Visitors don't usually take to swimming here." Erik asked casually, walking back up to the road with Charles squishing along beside him.
"I was taking a walk, exploring. Your housekeeper suggested it to me." Charles explained, hoping he wasn't getting Angel into trouble for him.
Erik smirked again, and Charles decided that was this man's version of a chuckle. "Are you planning on continuing your walk, or shall I take you back to the Thornfield?" he asked, motioning to a great steel-colored horse standing mildly on the path, shaking its reigns.
"Well, in my current state, I suppose it would be best for me to go back." Charles decided, smiling up at Erik. Charles watched a slight color flood Erik's cheeks and Charles' brows shot up. Was Erik perhaps like him?
"In your current state," Erik mimicked Charles softly, "I think you should ride back with me. It can't be comfortable to walk all the way back what with your clothes so wet." Erik offered his horse to Charles.
"Thank you." Charles nodded.
Erik's lips turned into a small smile and he swung onto his horse. The horse whinnied slightly and wheeled and Charles took a step back. He had never liked horses. Erik must have seen the anxious look on Charles' face, because Erik tightened up on the reigns and offered a hand to Charles.
"He's safe." Erik said, "I promise."
Charles gave him a doubtful look as the horse pawed nervously, but took the proffered hand and let Erik pull him up into the saddle behind Erik. Erik's hand was shockingly warm-Charles had expected it to be cool, like the man's eyes. Charles settled awkwardly behind Erik, sitting on the horse's speckled rump, just behind the saddle. He fiddled awkwardly with his hands, not really knowing what to do with them.
"He's safe," Erik said, glancing over his shoulder, "but I would suggest holding onto me. I would hate to see you fall again."
"Ah." Charles muttered dumbly. He put his hands gently on Erik's shoulders, and felt the muscles ripple through the expensive wool overcoat. Erik cocked an eyebrow, as if saying 'That's it?' and Charles moved his hands around Erik's waist, pulling on the fabric across the other man's middle.
"Ready?" Erik asked.
Charles nodded. He felt the muscles swell under his fingertips and Erik flicked the reigns and squeezed his horse between his thighs. The horse shot off like a rocket, and Charles yelped, burying his face in between Erik's shoulder blades. Charles felt Erik's chest rumble in a laugh as the horse galloped through the woods, and in no time, Charles felt the horse slow beneath him as they approached Thornfield.
"Welcome back." Erik said as he pulled the horse to a stop. The horse whinnied, as if loathe to stop his furious gallop, and pawed the ground. Erik dismounted gracefully and held out a hand to help Charles again.
Charles slid less gracefully from the horse's back, and nearly fell against Erik. Charles blushed, and he saw Erik flush again.
"Thank you again." Charles muttered awkwardly, straightening his coat and reaching for his top hat. His top hat! Charles looked around, as if expecting it to be lying somewhere nearby. "Damn!" he cried, brows knitting together.
"What?" Erik asked.
"My top hat." Charles said, pouting. "It's nothing really…I must have left it at the pond."
"I'll send my gardener to find it." Erik replied promptly as they entered the little stable. Charles hadn't even noticed they had walked into the gloomy place. "Hank!" Erik yelled, "Hank!"
The wide eyed gardener appeared around the corner, dusting dirt off of his trousers. "Yes sir?" The boy's eyes found Charles', "hello Mr. Xavier."
"Hello Hank." Charles said smiling.
Hank took the reigns of Erik's horse and began to lead it back to its stall when Erik spoke, "Mr. Xavier left his top hat at the lilly pond under the bridge. Take Iron and go find it."
"Yes sir." Hank turned on his heel and led the horse back out. "It was nice seeing you again, Mr. Xavier." he said, glancing over his shoulder.
Charles nodded, and then glanced at Erik again. Erik around his servants was completely different. The voice had lost its softness.
"Now," Erik said. The softness was back, "let's get you out of those wet clothes, shall we?"
A shiver ran up Charles' spine at those words, and he enjoyed hearing Erik say that a little too much.
Charles sighed, heaving himself out of the bath that Angel had drawn for him. His clothes were drying on a chair nearby. The window was filled with steam, and Charles cracked it open slightly, glancing out of the window into the garden below as he dried himself with a soft towel. Hank was back, Charles noticed, and he and another man were pulling a stump out of the garden. The other man turned, and Charles realized it was Erik. Even from his perch in the tower where his bath was located, Charles could see the sweat glisten on Erik's forehead. Erik was smiling, and looked like he was laughing at something. He clapped Hank on the back and glanced up into the tower. Charles drew back, even though he knew Erik couldn't see him.
Charles wandered into his room connecting to the little washroom and puttered aimlessly, completely naked. He liked being naked, as Raven very well knew. Clothes were constrictive, and the temperature was so perfect in his room-cool enough to elicit goosebumps to rise on his skin, but warm enough to still be comfortable. He laid out his clothes, regarded them, and then picked out a new shirt and new necktie. He smelled food being made in the kitchen, and decided clothes were probably needed at this point.
As he was tucking in his shirt into his gray trousers, a soft knock sounded on the door.
"Raven?" Charles asked, smoothing out his lapels.
"It's Erik." the voice from the other side said. Charles jumped and practically ran to the door, flinging it open. Erik was still sweaty, and his shirt was undone to his ribs and there was dirt dragged across his sharp cheekbone. "Hello." he said in his soft low voice.
"Hello." Charles replied. "Can I help you?" he asked.
"Do you play chess?" Erik asked.
Charles cocked his head. "Yes…why?"
"Come to my quarters after supper. I've been needing a new chess partner." Erik smiled, and Charles nearly melted.
"Alright then." Charles replied. "You won't be joining Raven and I for supper?"
"Oh no." Erik replied, "no I never have dinner in the dining room…I prefer to eat alone."
Charles saw a flash of darkness flicker across Erik's green eyes. There was a long moment of silence and then Erik spoke again.
"I'll see you after supper." And with that, he turned and disappeared down the long dark hallway.
Supper was quiet. As it turned out, Raven was holed up in her room, having discovered Erik's extensive library. And so supper was only himself and Angel. Angel ate quietly, absorbed in her own thoughts.
A muffled noise made Charles jump. It sounded like a woman's cry, very muffled and far away. Charles looked up at Angel, who glanced up tensely and then looked back down.
"How was your day, Mr. Xavier?" Angel asked.
"Good. I went to that lilly pond you spoke of," Charles chuckled, "and took an accidental swim."
Angel smiled, "Oh really?" she giggled, "I'm glad Mr. Lehnsherr was there to save you."
"Speaking of Mr. Lehnsherr, he invited me to play chess with him tonight…after supper can you point me in the direction of his quarters?" Charles asked.
"Of course." Angel said quietly. The cry sounded again and Charles looked up, slightly frightened. "The night-birds." Angel said, as if answering Charles' fears, "quite eerie in the middle of the night, I can tell you." Angel ducked her head, blatantly not meeting Charles' eyes.
Erik's quarters were in the Western wing of Thornfield, quite isolated from the rest of the inhabitants. The hallway was darker and gloomier than the rest of the mansion, and Charles felt a chill run through him as Angel led him to the great wooden door. Angel departed, leaving Charles alone in the gathering gloom. Charles steeled himself, and then rapped on the door.
"Yes?" came Erik's voice.
"It's me." Charles said quietly, as if the gloomy silence was holy somehow, and did not want to be broken.
The silence however was broken fantastically by the great oak door opening with a bang, and the entryway being filled by the lean shape of Erik Lehnsherr. Red light poured from his quarters, making him nothing more than a dark shape in the door for a moment, towering over Charles' small frame, and not for the first time since meeting Erik, Charles felt almost afraid of the man.
"Come in." Erik's voice was as warm as the red light from his quarters. Charles stepped inside as Erik moved aside.
Erik's quarters were vast, sprawling, and cluttered with papers, drawings, books, great dusty ledgers and an assortment of odd old-age weapons-a sword lay against the wall, forgot half buried beneath papers, and a helmet lay on Erik's desk by the huge window that looked over his estate, shrouded in darkness. A magnificent fire blazed hotly red in its great hearth, which was wider than Charles was tall. Like Erik, the fire was not exactly cheery, but hot, nearly scalding, Set between two huge throne like chairs done up in red velvet was a chess set and two crystal glasses.
"Does something about my quarters trouble you, Charles?" Erik asked softly close to Charles' ear. Charles jumped, face going scarlet, half because he had been caught staring, half because of the gust of warmth breath against his ear.
"No, sorry. I was just admiring it." Charles replied, glancing up and then promptly heading towards a chair.
Charles heard Erik's soft little chuckle, and then he watched the older man move across the room to a selection of spirits sitting atop a dresser. "What would you like?" Erik asked over his shoulder.
"Brandy, if you have it." Charles replied. Erik smiled again, and the firelight caught on his teeth.
"A man after my own heart," Erik said softly, returning to the chairs with a bottle of amber brandy in his hand, "or at least," Erik glanced up at Charles as he poured the brandy into Charles' glass, "a man after my own spirit cabinet."
Charles chuckled, and raised his glass, swirling its contents before taking a sip. It burned like liquid fire in the most fantastic of ways, the way good brandy warmed a man up inside and out, straight in the pit of his stomach.
"Cheers." he raised his glass to Erik before taking another sip.
"So," Erik said after he took a sip of his own brandy, "how much of an accomplished chess player are you?" Charles saw the dare in the cock of Erik's eyebrow, and the slight grin pulling at the corners of his wide sensual mouth.
"Oh very." Charles replied, cocking an eyebrow in equal challenge. "The best at Oxford, if I say so myself."
"Well," Erik replied, taking a pawn and running it through his fingers, "let us test that theory."
Charles had never fancied chess a sexy sort of sport, however by the end of their third match and almost an entire bottle of brandy later, Charles was sure Erik could make something as mundane as cricket sexy. The way that Erik moves his pieces, and the intimate way he held Charles' gaze while they played made Charles severely uncomfortable, especially below the waste of his trousers. Perhaps the copious brandy had something to do with it, but Charles had the sudden desire to lean across the little makeshift table and kiss Erik. Charles had to go.
"I'm afraid," Charles said quietly, "that I need to retire. It's well past midnight."
Erik looked almost disappointed, but covered whatever he was feeling with a sympathetic smile. "Of course. I am sorry for keeping you out so late."
They both rose and made their way to the door of Erik's chambers. Charles stumbled slightly, but caught himself before he needed assistance. "Oh no. Thank you for inviting me. It was…" Charles thought for a moment and flashed a surprisingly flirty smile, "stimulating."
Erik's face went lax with surprise, and then a frown suddenly furrowed his brow. Erik stepped forward, closing the slight gap between their bodies. Charles gasped, feeling the searing heat of Erik through his clothes against his chest, against his stomach, against his already befuddled groin.
Erik cradled Charles chin in his clever long fingers, and stared intently into Charles' eyes. His eyes were dark green, nearly gray, Charles mused in his haze of heat and alcohol. Erik leaned in so close, their lips were almost touching, almost, not quite. Never completely touching. Charles tasted the brandy on Erik's breath, could almost feel the press of hot lips on his own.
Charles eyes slid closed, every sense focused on the feeling of Erik so close to him.
"What are you waiting for?" Charles asked quietly, barely trusting his own voice.
"For things." Erik said softly, cryptically. "Good night, Charles."
The heat was suddenly gone, and when Charles opened his eyes, he found himself alone in the darkness, the door closed before him. His heart hammered like a frantic bird in his chest, and his head swam angrily, as if it were filled with bees.
Charles wandered aimlessly back to his room, perhaps getting lost two or three times, before finally somehow making it back to his own little room. He heard no noise from Raven's chambers, and so he went into his own, half crawling out of his own clothes, before collapsing onto the bed, asleep before he hit the mattress.
And once again, strange dreams plagued him- a pair of dark green eyes watching him from the shadows of the trees, and the sound of the haunted, wailing nightbirds, shrieking.
Sorry it took so long for me to update, but hey, a little bit of cherik right here! This is kind of a long chapter :) anyways, things will officially begin to pick up the pace now! Oh, and your welcome for that lovely teasing scene, straight out of Jane Eyre :) I hope you enjoyed this bit.