"I'm starving," Emily whined twenty minutes into the drive home on Sunday evening. "Can we stop to eat?" As if to punctuate her statement, her stomach audibly growled.

Alex fully took her eyes off the road to roll them at Emily's childishness. "Can't you wait? We'll be home in a few hours..."

"I didn't eat lunch," Emily said with a dramatic pout.

Shaking her head, Alex said, "I keep telling you that eating five or six smaller meals a day is better for you, but you never..."

"Actually, Lexi," Charles spoke up, "I wouldn't mind finding a diner."

Alex sighed heavily. "Not you too, Daddy..."

Charles laughed. "'Fraid so, Ladybird." He reached up to rub the spot behind her ear, the way he'd done to soothe her as a baby.

"Fine," she relented, "But I'm picking the restaurant."

"You could be a little more helpful, you know," Emily hissed, keeping pace with Alex, several steps behind their fathers as they crossed the parking lot.

Alex shot her a quizzical – and rather annoyed – expression. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"We want them to spend time together," she reminded, an implied duh in her tone.

"Yeah, I got that, I'm just not sure it's considered romantic to bring your daughters to a Denny's," Alex replied with sass. "And, by the way, technically speaking, they were spending time together in the car," she added superiorly.

Emily clearly would have loved to reply in kind, but they had caught up to their fathers and thus couldn't say any of the waiting barbs, much to her frustration.

Not that either man seemed all that attentive to what they were saying, seeing as Charles was busy turning on the charm with the hostess and Erik was busy looking both aggravated and mortified by Charles' constant insistence on flirting with every woman they came across.

The waitress – who, by the way, was staring up at Charles like a heart-eye emoji – fumbled with the menus in the face of Charles' flirtatiousness. On the way back to their table, she lead them past a table full of teenage girls who quite obviously recognized Charles, judging by the way they all began to giggle and whisper as he passed.

"Not again," Alex muttered under her breath, dropping heavily into the booth and immediately burying her face in the menu, preemptively mortified.

Before anyone else could comprehend what was about to happen, the group of girls sent an emissary over to their table. "You're Professor X, right?" the girl asked, already blushing furiously.

Charles laughed genially. "Guilty as charged," he said, flashing his million watt smile.

"OMG!" the girl trilled, clapping her hands in excitement. "Do you think... I mean, could I... Can we take a picture with you?"

"For a pretty little being with a mutated MC1R gene, I'd be happy to," he said, following her back to her table. "I say MC1R, you'd say freckles which, by the way, are adorable."

The girl blushed – if possible – even redder.

Alex, on the other hand, was rolling her eyes. Hard. And by the time he returned, she was glaring frostily. "That was a little much, Daddy..."

"Agreed," Erik muttered, scanning the menu.

"What?" Charles said, sounding genuinely mystified by their reaction. "I was only being courteous."

Alex audibly scoffed.

Brows knitting together, Charles asked, "Lexi, what's the matter?"

She appeared to be doing her level best to maintain her clam, but was struggling. "I get that you want to further the mutant cause and you're kind of a celebrity and whatever, but sometimes it would be nice to be with my father and not Professor X..."

A beat.

"Oh..." He nodded thoughtfully for a few moments. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because," she said pointedly, "How am I supposed to say 'I want you to pay attention to me and no one else' without sounding selfish?"

Charles reached across the table to rest a hand on top of hers. "Lexi, I'd do anything for you. If I've been neglecting to show you that, I'm terribly sorry." He squeezed her hand gently, offered her a paternal smile.

Emily glanced surreptitiously at her father, who was watching the father-daughter interaction with something akin to tenderness in his own eyes. She then looked to Charles (whose gaze briefly flickered away from Alex to Erik, then back). "Alex," she said, standing suddenly, "Let's go to the bathroom."

"But I don't have to..." she started to protest. She didn't have a chance to finish the thought, though, because Emily had yanked her out of the booth. Once the bathroom door swung closed behind them, she rounded on Emily, hands on her hips and demanded, "What the hell, Emily!?"

"Did you forget the plan?"

Alex couldn't seem to stop herself from rolling her eyes. "I really don't see how this is helping..." she grumbled. "In fact, I think it looks rather suspicious, like you wanted to make out or something which, by the way..."

It was Emily's turn to roll her eyes. "You're hopeless," she said interrupting her.

Once the girls had departed, Erik turned to Charles with a little smirk. "You always were a fame whore."

Charles snorted with amusement. "Just because you shun the limelight doesn't mean we all do," he replied with a superior smirk.

Erik shook his head, rolling his eyes. Changing the subject, he asked, "What do you suppose the girls are up to? They certainly seem much more chummy than they did on the way out... I don't suppose you had anything to do with that?"

"What are you suggesting?" Charles asked, brow quirked. He knew, of course, exactly what he was suggesting, but that didn't mean he couldn't play dumb, just a little.

Erik said nothing, merely giving him a pointed look, knowing full well that Charles knew what he'd meant.

He held up his hands in self-defence. "I assure you I'm completely innocent in this. Perhaps time together has simply been good for them..."

Erik seemed doubtful, but he wasn't going to argue with results.