Peace Offering

[thatnaive]

Charles rubbed his eyes and rolled over to glance at the clock. 2:30 AM. Brilliant. There was no point in continuing to feign sleep. He knew if he tried, Erik's nightmares would only wake him again. His new(ish) friend was staying in the room next to his, and the intensity of his emotions was too much to ignore. It was as though someone were screaming in his ear. It was impossible to block out, and the pain that Erik was obviously going through was distressing the natural mother hen that lurked inside Charles' conscience.

With a quiet groan, he sat up and slipped out of bed, pulling on a pair of pajama pants over his boxers. Erik wasn't going to let Charles in that easily. He had to come with a peace offering, so it was to the kitchen that his fuzzy-slipper-enclosed feet led him. Stifling a yawn, Charles rummaged through the cupboards. His first thought was to bring tea, but on second thought, tea just wasn't an option. Instead he felt back around the fridge, fingers closing around a bottle and bringing it towards him. Champagne. Perfect.

Charles picked up two glasses and exited the kitchen before heading back upstairs. He hesitated for a moment at Erik's door, then finally reached out and knocked softly.

"Erik, it's Charles. I know you're awake."

Comments

[cerebroed.livejournal.com]

He raised an eyebrow at the slight trembling, looking about. Inside the reaction thrilled him. Erik's mutation was absolutely splendid, and it made him into the most beautiful of weapons. It was a thought that was both exciting and sobering.
b
Charles chuckled lightly at how quickly his friend caught his intention. He didn't expect anything less. "It was worth a try," he shrugged, unapologetic.

There was another raised eyebrow at the bending of the bedframe. "I hope you're planning on returning that to its proper shape," he commented, though the bottle holder was rather convenient.

"My mother?" He blinked in some surprise. "She wasn't anything like yours, Erik. I hardly ever saw her."

There was a short, slightly uncomfortable pause, at least in Charles' case, before he turned back to his friend, polishing off his glass and setting it down.

"Does it bother you, what I can do?" he asked, watching him curiously. "It does sometimes. You don't like anyone knowing that much about you. But it's almost a relief sometimes too, isn't it? Having someone that understands what it feels like." He nodded thoughtfully.

"Erik, if you would like to..." Charles hesitated, each word slow and deliberate. "I could show you my mind." Honest, open eyes flickered back up to meet Erik's gaze.

[sublifter.livejournal.com]

For his first two sentences, Charles received a customary eyebrow raise of his own, though of course Erik could never match the uncanny facial muscle control that Charles seemed to possess in that regard. Also, to silently prove a point, Erik lifted the bottle, rearranged the metal to the form it had originally been manipulated into, and then back into the horizontal triple loop, where he placed the bottle once more. And with just a smidgen of extra thought, he had those loops tip sideways just enough pour more champagne into his waiting glass.

The rest of what Charles had to say, on the other hand, wasn't so easy to brush off light-heartedly. Especially since there was that awkward moment after the small summary of the woman who'd raised Charles. He really hadn't been expecting a serious answer from that. After all, Charles was far too kind to have come from anything but warmth and happiness, but here was a hint that it hadn't been as perfect as he'd thought.

He gave Charles a long look over the top of his glass at the way Charles was basically talking to himself. "Sometimes I wonder how you manage to have normal conversations with other people, with the way you have a habit of plucking out answers before someone has the chance to say anything different from what they're thinking." Before anyone had a chance to lie, is what he really meant. Which made Charles' ability far more valuable than anything else in the world, and one that could be a great asset to have nearby.

With that same look, he conveyed that he would very much like to see Charles' mind, to be on equal ground with this brilliant, powerful man, and never again let the unfair advantage Charles held spread the seeds of poison through his veins. There weren't any words to express that out loud, though, so he nodded, and set down his glass as well.

[cerebroed.livejournal.com]

Charles' original intention to frown upon the 'destruction' of his furniture was completely overthrown by the ease in which Erik neatly reshaped the metal. He couldn't help but laugh in awe as he filled the glasses easily. "Ohh, splendid," he chuckled, raising his glass in approval.

Sometimes Charles wondered himself how he managed to have normal conversations. It was reflex to find the answers himself, instinct. As soon as the words left his lips, he could see the answer there. He hadn't allowed himself to do such a thing with Raven, he'd promised her he wouldn't, but with others, he had no reason not to. He smiled faintly and nodded.

The nod. Of course, he'd known it was coming, but somewhere inside of him he'd been hoping that Erik would say no. Still, it was only fair, and if anyone deserved to see what it was like to be Charles, it was the man before him. Never before had he seen a mind so tormented, and never before had he crossed so many boundaries in a matter of mere seconds, almost by accident.

Charles licked his lips in some nervousness and nodded. While his past hadn't been remotely close to the horrors of living as an experiment, it certainly wasn't the sugar coated life that he knew Erik suspected.

"I've never done this before," he admitted softly. "If you need me to stop, tell me."

He hesitated a moment longer before leaning forward towards Erik, closing his eyes, and putting two fingers to his temples.

[sublifter.livejournal.com]

Erik tensed up, preparing himself for whatever was about to happen. If anything about this went wrong, he was sure Charles would be fine, but he had a feeling it wouldn't be fortunate for him. Charles' inexperience didn't exactly help to ease the sudden misgivings. This might not have been a great idea after all, but when Erik Lehnsherr commits to sometimes, he commits. No taking things back at the last second.

There were a few seconds where he didn't feel anything different, and Charles looked rather ridiculous just sitting there with his eyes closed and fingers to his temple as if he had a migraine. Maybe it really did give him a headache when he connected to other minds like this, that would explain--

Suddenly, Charles was just there in his mind, or maybe he was in Charles', there wasn't really a way to be sure. The point was, he wasn't alone anymore, and though Charles had made that clear weeks earlier, he never understood how alone he was, even surrounded by people, until this very moment. The feeling was so overwhelming that slow phantom tears began running down his face, somewhere far away from wherever he was.

This is what your ability feels like. That wasn't a question. He realized that he was feeling everything from Charles' perspective (though how he came to that realization he wasn't sure, maybe he just absorbed Charles' thought about it) and knew without a doubt that this was how it was for Charles when he was connected with another mind. Warm, and safe. It's beautiful. (Which he obviously did not mean to think out loud and he would be punching himself for later.)

[cerebroed.livejournal.com]

Charles chuckled softly, relaxing as their minds flowed together. This is me. All of me. I've never shown anyone before, so consider yourself lucky.

It was somehow relaxing, letting Erik in like this. He very rarely saw his mutation as a curse. It had been a blessing to him, a chance for him to see into the lives of others and understand what it was like to be someone else. He could empathize that way, feel their pain and know exactly how they felt.

This was like that backwards, and Lord, it was more wonderful than he had anticipated. Being connected with Erik like this felt natural, familiar. He shared a quick synopsis of his childhood, his absentee mother, the bullying of his stepbrother, the pain he'd experienced through his brother's beatings...the untimely deaths of his mother, and then the fire that took his stepfather's life...

The memories weren't pleasant, and despite himself Charles shivered at the recollection. Yet he wanted Erik to see them, to understand that just because he'd grown up with money hadn't meant it had been easy. He had, in fact, suffered his own hardships. Of course, they were nothing in comparison to Erik's life, but he wanted his friend to see that he understood to some degree what it was like to be unhappy.

What Charles hadn't realized, however, was that opening himself up like this left him vulnerable to himself. The memories swelled around him, the agony of a thousand different emotions swallowing him up and drowning him. It was like his earliest attempts into reading someone else's mind; he'd had a tendency of getting lost.

He couldn't even feel his body anymore, didn't hear his own quiet whimpers or feel how his fingers tightened in bloodred sheets. Didn't feel his own hot tears mixing with cold sweat and dripping slowly down his face onto his ridiculous pajama bottoms. No, Charles Xavier was losing himself in his own mind.

[sublifter.livejournal.com]

Erik let out a mental snort of amusement. I'm sure I will.

Before any more snarkiness could occur, the double sensation of feeling what Charles was feeling him feeling overtook him and he couldn't be sure which way was right or left, never mind thinking up witty retorts.

And then there were the memories, and o Boże he never thought he could feel so foolish in his entire life. Every memory that swept over him brought a plague of emotion and pain that he never would have expected Charles to have. By the time they got to Cain's beatings which had been projected to Charles, he realized that Charles was worse off than anyone, because not only did he have to endure his own suffering, but the suffering of those around him. His suffering.

The waves of memories and emotions that engulfed Charles were drowning, and if Charles was losing himself, Erik was long gone. Without the long and arduous process of building up one's telepathic skills, it was impossible to fight the connection and keep their consciousnesses separate, so as he looked on at Charles' memories, he felt them as if they were entirely his own, and he began to forget who he was, where he was, and most importantly, when he was.

It wasn't until his hand shot out of its own accord, grabbing the metal of the headboard, so very, very far away, and feeling the siren's call which seemed like a stranger's voice now, that he realized that something was going terribly wrong here. He wasn't Charles, Charles was Charles, and he was someone else entirely. Grasping for that little thread of knowledge, he called out, Charles!

Hearing nothing in return, he thought harder. Charles! Charles! Something's not right! He wasn't completely sure anymore what wasn't right, but he was sure it was important, so that's what he held on to.

If he had any clue he and Charles were both sobbing like children out in the real world, he wouldn't have bothered.

[cerebroed.livejournal.com]

A barrage of memories slammed hard into Charles, leaving him gasping. He couldn't pull himself out, couldn't find the way to escape. It was like being caught in a riptide and the waves had dragged him under and spun him around so thoroughly that he had lost all sense of direction and couldn't be sure whether he was floundering closer to the surface or only deeper into the unforgiving depths of his own mind.

For what seemed like a long time, Charles was gone. Then, as though from a great distance, he heard the voice, at once so familiar and so strange. Someone was calling for him. He couldn't quite make it out just yet, he was too distracted, but it was enough to remind him which way was up.

He heard his name again, this time clearer. Something's not right... His own thought, dazed and confused, echoed the voice.

No, no, something wasn't right. Something was wrong. Charles brushed away the memories, struggling to reclaim himself and find just who and what and where he was.

Erik? The thought was a question mark in an of itself, blurry with misdirection and confusion, but slowly, steadily, began to sharpen, until Charles remembered.

With what seemed like a massive effort, he yanked them both free of their confusing prison and back into reality. Charles was shivering violently, tears streaming freely down his face as he gasped for breath and fell back limply against the bedframe.

Never again, he decided shakily. That was not an adventure he was willing to repeat. If it hadn't been for Erik, he wasn't sure that he could have pulled out.

so much man pain here

[sublifter.livejournal.com]

Erik came out of the dream-like state coughing and gasping, as if he really had been underwater all that time. Had he been so far gone that his body forgot to breathe? It was no wonder that he'd suddenly panicked--his nerves were probably screaming at his consciousness that he was dying, dying, dying, until he finally tuned in to the right channel.

Then a feeling of utter loss came over him, the feeling of being his own separate person again, and despite the bodily and mental harm that came with the melding, that was the worst part of the whole ordeal. His chest ached and he could only imagine that this was what a broken heart felt like.

I agree. Absolutely. Never again. He couldn't even think complete sentences, which was a tragedy in of itself.

Now that he was disconnected from Charles, the emotions which had driven him to tears were easier to brush aside, and hastily he wiped his face with the nearest object available--his pillow. Charles, on the other hand, didn't seem to be recovering in the slightest, and if Erik didn't know any better, he'd say that he was on the verge of going into shock.

Without thinking, he reached out and pulled the smaller man into his arms, holding him as tight as he could. It felt natural, as no other hug ever had before, and he felt no shame, holding this person who, for a few moments, had been a part of him, and who he'd been a part of too.

I'm sorry Charles, I didn't know. And then with greater effort, "I didn't know." His vocal cords felt as if he hadn't used them in years, and he wondered how long it would be until he got used to speaking out loud again. He wasn't sure if he was apologizing for what just happened, or for assuming that Charles' life had been full of butterflies and rainbows. Maybe both.

nngh. my heart.

[cerebroed.livejournal.com]

The abrupt contact made Charles jump and tense up even more, but once he realized what was going on, he couldn't help himself. It was alright for now, just to fall apart completely. He found himself gripping Erik tightly, his body shuddering with sobs because oh those memories, he'd forgotten how badly it had hurt. He tucked his head into Erik's collarbone and just let it all go.

He wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd fallen apart like this. Years, probably. Charles did his best to tuck his past firmly behind him and press on with the future. He concerned himself more with others than with himself, and because of that, there had been a lot of emotion bottled up inside that he had never let spill out.

Yet somehow this wasn't embarrassing, crying his heart out against Erik's shoulder in the dead of night. In the past few moments they had come to know each other in the most intimate of ways. There were no secrets between them. They knew everything there was to know about the other, in the way that only a telepath could open up. They had endured each other's heartache, and together, they would learn to move past it.

Charles couldn't speak just yet, but he acknowledged Erik's comment with a mental reply. It's quite alright, Erik. A warm glow of emotion accompanied the words.

After what felt like ages, Charles finally fell silent, his smaller body limp in Erik's arms as he sniffled and shivered. His nose had bled slightly from the effort he'd put out, so a lovely mixture of sweat, tears, snot, and blood had been running down his face for the past few minutes.

"I feel awful," he mumbled against Erik's shoulder.

I'm going to confiscate that icon

[sublifter.livejournal.com]

Erik scoffed at Charles' underwhelming statement. "Obviously."

Since the worst was over, Erik pushed Charles off of him a ways so he could assess the damage. Well, he'd seen worse but that didn't make Charles' condition any more attractive.

He reached out his hand and a small metal box hit it obediently. Inside was a traveler's package of Kleenex, and he pulled a single tissue, which he put to Charles' nose, as he were a child who didn't know how to stop his own nosebleed. After a moment, Erik realized how silly that was, and forcefully replaced his hand with Charles'. "Hold this. I'll be back."

There was a conjoined bathroom, in which he turned on a faucet and soaked a hand towel. A glance in the mirror showed that Charles had given his shirt the same treatment as his face, so that came right off and into the sink once the towel was safely out of range. He plugged the sink and filled the basin with cold water so the blood wouldn't harden and stain, then wrung out the towel just enough so it wouldn't drip.

That nice damp towel made a trip straight to the top of Charles' head, where it stayed while Erik made himself comfortable on the bed again.

[cerebroed.livejournal.com]

Charles was having difficulty just holding himself up on his own. He let Erik push him into whatever position he wanted with no complaint, his wide eyes watching his friend with complete trust. He couldn't keep back a small smile at Erik's kindness.

That damp towel was doing wonders for him. His eyes closed and he sighed quietly. The bed bowed slightly as Erik sat back down, and Charles opened his eyes again.

Nearly all his strength was spent, and almost without thinking, he leaned over to sprawl across the bed, head resting in Erik's lap.

"You are an extraordinarily kind person when you want to be," he murmured, eyes closing again.

He shifted slightly, his head facing upwards so that the damp rag was held in place by gravity rather than the extra energy it would take to hold it there himself. He was paler than his usual fair tone, the shadows under his eyes accented even in the darkness of the room. The bloodied kleenex had fallen to rest in the hollow between his neck and collarbone, soaking up the sweat there.

[sublifter.livejournal.com]

"When the situation calls for it." That was his way of saying not to expect it very often, and that this was a special occasion.

He picked up the dirty Kleenex by a lone clean corner and flung it off onto the floor somewhere, not caring if the perfect room had one little piece of trash lying about, then plucked the towel off Charles' head to wipe Charles' face off. It would've been easier to have him go wash his own damn face, but the man was practically an invalid at the moment.

"You know Charles, for such a brilliant man, you have the tendency to make the worst decisions possible. I don't know how you've survived this long." If they'd stayed under for much longer, they both might've died, and then what would've happened? The world would've been annihilated by Shaw, and Erik's revenge would have gone unfulfilled, all because they wanted to get to know each other better. "We could have done it the normal way if you hadn't suggested that."

[cerebroed.livejournal.com]

Charles chuckled, his eyes staying shut as he relaxed more. Erik really was quite comfortable, and it had been a very long time since someone had taken care of him like this. He was tired, his head hurt, this was a great time for a bonding moment...the list of excuses went on and on.

"Brilliance often has little to do with common sense, my friend," he said quietly in reply. "How could anything new be learned if it weren't for experimentation? Science would get nowhere at all."

There was a moment of companionable silence and he stifled a yawn. I think I need a drink.

[sublifter.livejournal.com]

Charles might have meant that as a joke, but it was too close to the tail end of Erik's latest nightmare for science to contain any spark of humor for him. Irritated at the reminder when he'd been doing such a good job of avoiding it, he dropped the towel directly on Charles' face, where it landed with a heavy splat.

"If you're hiding something less bubbly up your sleeve, you can count me in on that. Otherwise you're on your own." Erik had most definitely reached the hard liquor stage of the night, and champagne wasn't going to do anything more for him.

To his credit, he did reach back and grab the champagne bottle even though he wasn't going to have any himself, so he wasn't entirely rude. He handed it to Charles so he could... chug it from the bottle maybe, he wasn't sure, but Erik wasn't moving to grab the glasses, too.

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED

[cerebroed.livejournal.com]

"Erik!" Charles complained, tossing the rag onto the floor. His form of retaliation, however, was laughable. He merely rubbed his nose against Erik's stomach in what could only be defined as a playful nuzzle.

"I think there's something behind my bookshelf," he replied with something of a yawn, his nose still brushing Erik's skin. "I didn't want the children to find it."

It was amusing how easily Charles had fallen into the habit of referring to the rest of them as children. Even Raven was lumped into that category, though she wasn't much younger than he. In reality, none of the 'children' were that much younger, only a few years. The only one that might have the right to call anyone children around here was Erik. He was the oldest, after all.

He instinctively took the proffered bottle and sat up just a bit. He was still leaning against Erik, though now his back was propped against the other's shoulder.

Want to see something groovy?

Oh yes, Charles was going to chug that champagne.

HE DIDN'T MEAN ALL AT ONCE, JEEZ

[sublifter.livejournal.com]

The abrupt... nuzzle was one of the strangest reactions to having a towel dropped one's face that Erik had ever seen, and for a few moments he just stared at Charles, unsure of how to respond to that.

Finally, with the comment about the hiding of the liquor, he had something to help him move past that moment. "Good call."

It made sense for the good stuff to be hidden where their resident teens couldn't get their hands on it. He was about to push Charles off and get up to retrieve it when suddenly his companion was sitting up and leaning on him with his full weight, and Erik didn't want to have Charles fall back and hit his head on the bed frame just so he could have a drink.

At Charles' preferred catchphrase, he raised an eyebrow. "Whenever you say that, I get the feeling that I'm about to witness something utterly ridiculous and embarrassing for the both of us." Despite that, his curiosity was piqued. "But by all means, enlighten me."

NEXT TIME YOU SHOULD SPECIFY BEFORE CHARLES GETS EXCITED

[cerebroed.livejournal.com]

Charles smirked cheekily and popped open the bottle. This wasn't nearly as fun with champagne, but it was still fun to show off every now and again.

He raised the bottle to his lips and tilted his head back, taking long swallows of the bubbly liquid. Slowly, steadily, the bottle began to empty.

Finally, he pulled the now empty bottle from his lips and took in a great gasp of air, grinning rather crookedly at his friend.

[okay you got lucky, i woke up early and wrote this because sleeping on the carpet is anything but comfortable. but anyway, i don't know when i'll be able to get back to you. don't miss charles too much, mkay?]

HE SHOULDN'T HAVE TO, YOU CRAZY PARTIER

[sublifter.livejournal.com]

By the time Charles had gotten to the bottle, it wasn't exactly full, but there was still a substantial amount. Enough for the chugging to be a semi-impressive feat, anyway. What kind of breath control must that take, to purposefully force enough liquid down your throat to the point where you could very well drown if you weren't careful. In any case, it was no mystery as to where he'd picked up the skill.

"It's always encouraging to find out what Oxford educations are good for these days." Erik didn't always mean to be so condescending towards Charles' obvious privilege, but sometimes it just came out, whether jokingly or not.

He rearranged Charles and stood up to fetch himself the hard liquor he'd been promised. He wasn't disappointed by the outcome, as Charles, or whoever bought the lovely bottle of scotch, obviously had good taste.

Grabbing the bottle and the tumbler next to it, he added, "You're not getting a hold of this--there's a special rung in Hell for people who waste good scotch, and I'm not about to let you damn us both."

[I will try my best. ;_;]

ITS JUST LIKE ERIK SAID, THATS WHAT OXFORDS GOOD FOR

[cerebroed.livejournal.com]

Charles smiled rather crookedly at his friend. It's alright, I know you're impressed. He was breathing a little too hard to actually say it out loud.

By the time Erik would return, however, the eccentric and exhausted Brit was curled up on the bed with his eyes closed. Not asleep, no. Just resting. Chugging champagne is hard work, after all.

"Mmm, do have mercy on me," he mumbled.

XP

[sublifter.livejournal.com]

Erik honestly had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but he supposed it didn't really matter at three in the morning. Shaking his head, he took the few strides back, wondering just how much of lightweight someone had to be to be nearly passed out just from drinking champagne.

"Too late. You brought it on yourself, Charles." Was there a point in teasing someone who was only half coherent? Probably not, but that didn't make it any less amusing.

For a few moments he stood next to the bed, wondering if it would be better if he just picked Charles up and put him in bed before drinking himself into a light sleep, or if Charles was just being over dramatic and he'd be able to totter down the hallway by himself later. It was about time for Charles to head on out if he was just going to lie around and take up bed space, but Erik didn't really feel incredibly inclined to move him and disturb what could be the only time in history that Charles wasn't spouting long sentences about the good of mankind or groovy mutations. As used to them as he'd grown, it was always nice to have a break.

[cerebroed.livejournal.com]

Charles flopped over onto his back and scooted closer to the bedframe before patting the mattress beside him in an obvious 'there's room for you here' motion.

Stifling a yawn, he reached out expectantly for the bottle. "I hope you're planning on sharing my scotch with me."

Please. He could keep going for a few more hours. Charles was a professional partier. After all, there were other benefits to a university than just the education.

[sublifter.livejournal.com]

"Not at the moment."

Slightly amused at the fact that Charles was the one who'd barged in here, taken over his bed, and was now inviting him back onto it, he sat where the man had indicated that he should be.

He sat quietly for a few moments, finally processing what they'd just been through, what Charles went through every day without complaint. He felt everything that went on around him and never complained, even though it only built up on top of what he'd been through personally. Privileged, Charles may be, but sheltered, he was not.

"How do you do it, Charles." A question that sounded more like a statement, as usual. He was too used to telling people what was going on to be able to express confusion.

[cerebroed.livejournal.com]

Charles was silent for a few moments, his outstretched hand dropping down to his side. After a moment he sat back up, facing away from his friend.

"I'm not sure, honestly," he said after a moment, chuckling humorlessly. "I've had to since childhood. It's just second nature now."

He sighed softly, rubbing his head. He could feel a headache coming on.

Charles winced suddenly, pressing a hand to his temples. He hated nightmares. Not his nightmares, it had been some time since he'd been the one dreaming, but the nightmares of everyone else around him.

"Hank," he murmured, almost inaudibly.