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[faellain]

The Accidental Baby Trap Incident

Summary: About four years after the events of First Class, Erik arrives at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters with two little twins who he didn't know existed. Thinking he doesn't know what to do, he runs to Charles, not knowing the state his old friend is in.

Snippet 6

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charles sighs as they wheel down the long walkway to the machine itself. the completed room is gorgeous, all metal panels with projectors ready to show the tour de force of charles xavier's telepathy. dust coated everything in the room.

"these are muscles i haven't stretched in some time," charles says somberly, picking up the helmet. gently, he blew the dust off. for a moment, his lips looked their correct shade, that brillaint natural almost-red. once, erik had insuated that charles' lips were a physical result of his mutation. that had made charles' laugh, wondering what telepathy would have to do with his lips.

raven had raised an eyebrow and replied, "why did my skin have to blue for me to shapeshift?"

charles settles the helmet onto his head. hank preps the machine, warning them before he turns it on. as it comes back to life, charles grimaces. erik quickly puts a hand to his shoulder, squeezing it trying to center him as the room is bathed in red and white. they had considered this- color coding the humans and mutants. his breath is caught in the beauty of it all as he watches charles try to locate sean, try to zoom into vietnam.

instead, the room starts spinning, charles unable to control the though. pained yells scrape their way out of his throat. all erik can do is move to hold both his shoulders, coming around the front. charles' shoulders shake beneath his palms.

"hank, turned the damn thing off!" he snaps.

just as hank comes alive, trying to do so, the power shorts out, plunging the room into darkness. charles all but throws the helmet to the ground, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. he's not well; erik doesn't need to be a telepath to know that.

"i-i'll go check the generators," hank murmurs before dashing off to do so.

charles runs his hands over his face, "this was a mistake."

"you said yourself you're out of practice," erik reminds him, "it wasn't cerebro that did that."

charles looks at him ruefully, tired and bitter. his hands shake again as he touches his forehead, "my power comes from here. from," his hand moves to his chest, but he abadons the words. a dispodant death resides in his tone as he sighs, "it's broken. i feel like one of my student's. helpless…"

erik moves to cup his cheek, thumbing at the skin there, letting his fingers trace over the scruffy beard. he finds he still truly hates it. perhaps it's the lack of familiarity to the clean-shaven scholar he had known when all this began.

"you're not," he says, "you've become scared of yourself. i know you. you can do this."

"it's too much," charles tries not to wheeze, still catching his breath, "we need to call your telepath."

"you are my telepath," erik replies, "emma is terrifying when she wants to be, but she is not you."

charles laughs bitterly, leaning back in his chair, "then she's good enough to work cerebro while i can't. i'm not jealous for heaven's sake. i just- i can't do this anymore. there's too much pain."

erik frowns. he knew that charles could know anyone's pain just by touching their mind. their history was an open book to him. he'd known erik's pain, his hurt. but he'd also brought back some of erik's happiness as well.

"let me take some," he offers, "you know my pain. let me have yours."

charles shakes his head, "no. god, no. you have enough pain-"

erik leans down and kisses charles' cheek, slowly, presses his nose against the side of charles' head, "which is why you know i can handle your's. give me your pain, charles. stop bearing it alone."

there is some hesitation, but charles opens his mind to him. everything is on his terms. that is the trouble with only one of them being telepathic. erik must trust that what charles is showing him is not just the truth, but that he withholds few things. but trusting charles has always been easy. no one else ever broke through his barriers. no one else could ever love him him.

and that is why the pain hurt so much.

erik knew there had been a stepfamily in charles and raven's lives, but he did not know they were cruel. their mother, already inattentive, started drinking. kurt marko was cruel. for all the house's beauty, each room had its own reminder of strikes against charles' tender skin who was but a child- a child. bruises should not litter a child's body. screams should not reach a child's ears.

he'd mocked this place, this temple to charles' forgone youth, this church of suffering. yet, charles continued to live here. when he had first started accepting students he wanted to fill it with enough good memories to wash away the bad. now, there were more bad filling up the empty air. charles was suffocating.

a few tears pass by erik's cheeks as charles pulls the memories away. he is crying too, far more than erik is, but it is a silent endeavor. erik kisses charles' cheek again, then his lips.

"i'm here," he whispers, "they're gone."

"i know," charles says, his voice waivering.

erik peppers kisses into charles' hair, "we will fill this place with good memories. you, myself, our children. students and teachers."

charles moves and cups erik's cheeks, "that's a nice thought. really. it is. but you have your world and i mine."

i will start with this school, erik kneels before charles' chair, presses his hands over charles' as though pledging feality to a lord, and then i will make a place for mutants to be safe. a utopia for mutants alone should your humans prove lack luster.

charles blinks away tears, "but erik-"

"i want you at my side," erik tells him, "i want you to hope again. i will build a world you will love brick by brick. with dirt beneath my fingers. with blood and sweat. if you can forgive me, i will give you everything."

as erik cups charles' cheeks, cerebro's lights flicker back on. they both smile and charles nods, letting his cheek lean and rest into one of erik's large hands. hank is on his way back up he can sense it.

"we'll talk more later," charles whispers, pecks erik's lips chastely.

it's not 'i love you'. perhaps, it is not the answer that erik wants to hear, but it's what charles can muster. he can still feel erik holding him, can feel erik screaming his thoughts as a plea to get charles not to plunge another needle into his arm. he'd forgotten how lovely it was to have another mind dance with his.

they have a second chance. maybe this time, things will go right.

hank's footsteps echo as he jogs along the path to the center console, "power's back. do you want to wait?"

"no," charlies replies calmly, "let's try once more."

the second time putting on cerebro still hurts as he forces himself to tune out things that are unnecessary. still, this time, he is successfully. sean is at some sort of facility in vietnam. most likely he'd be moved to a secret base where they might lose him forever. but for now, he was safe behind what should have been friendly lines.

"i've got him," charles says, then frowns, "and what seems to be a handful of other mutants but they're muted. something is blocking them."

erik shakes his shoulder, "i knew it. we have to save them. janos might be among them. "

hank mouths, janos?, to himself but with erik in his mind and he in erik's charles knows riptide's name now.

they deliver the news to raven who is visibly relieved to have some idea of where sean is. erik sits by a window as everyone talks, watching pietro and wanda play with the tire swing. a small smile crosses his face. still, he can feel charles' eyes watching him.

to no surprise when he turns, charles is smiling at him, lips quirked up playfully. fondness is sewn into the lines around his mouth. erik rolls his eyes at charles with exagerattion before turning his gaze back toward his children, cringing as pietro jumps from a tree branch, only avoiding a fall by wanda using her powers to make the ground become a hill to catch him.

"erik!" raven snaps. he looks at her and her raised eyebrows, eyes flashing like amber, "care to join us?"

"i'm listening," he assures, "we need to take the blackbird to vietnam. i'll have to call azazel- if janos is there, he'll want to be part of the rescue."

"he's the teleporter right?" asks hank, "because he seemed so nice when he was dropping fbi agents from the sky."

"azazel is twice the man those government hacks were," sniffs raven. erik smiles at her. both of them have come to deeply care for their russian brotherhood member. he grew up mistaken for a devil, hidden away from the world. he and raven had bonded over that. erik cared for his blunt candor.

"it will be better to have him," charles says, "and emma frost. i would just slow you all down."

"no, you wouldn't," erik argues, "your powers-"

"are still coming back," charles reminds him, voice soft. a gently hand seems to caress erik's stormy thoughts, "and someone needs to be here to watch the kids."

"we should ask angel to stay here," raven adds, "just in case. that way it's not just charles and the twins."

erik hadn't thought about that. missions had hardly crossed his mind when he ran here, but he should have considered it an eventuality. at some point, his kids would have to understand their father had work to do like any other. his was just more dangerous.

"you trust her to stay?" asks hank, skeptically. erik considers punching him, but charles reaches over and physically grabs his wrist.

i wasn't going to do it.

he's still hurt.

raven narrows her eyes, "do you trust me?"

"of course," hank replies, trying not to sound sheepish.

"then you can trust her," she ends the conversation there, standing, "i'm going to call the safehouse. hopefully, at least one of them is there."

erik turned his eyes back toward his kids once more. soon, his mysterious disapperance was going to be revealed. he could practically hear azazel calling him an old dog. charles' fingers threaded with his own, both of them coming to look out the window.

we should talk before you go, charles says, though his eyes train on wanda, trying to undo the small flat-topped hill she's made.

you know my feelings, erik reminds him.

charles shakes his head, we need discuss the school. your brotherhood. how that coexists.

it will coexist if i say it coexists, erik tries not to wrinkle his nose in disgust. instead, he feels the emptiness of charles's hand leaving his.

"stubborn as always," charles replies, though that fondness is still there. he takes his hands and rolls his chair back, "maybe you should speak to your brotherhood before me then."

"but charles-"

i'm tired, charles tells him, i'm going to rest before all the excitment starts. i think you'd better help your kids.

there is affection there, but erik is not a telepath. he can't tell if charles is shielding truer feelings from him. the realization leaves no small amount of frustration bubbling in his chest. nothing mattered but the promise erik had made to him. he would build a world charles could love.

his eyes moved from wanda to hank, thought of raven finally walking around her childhood home in her true skin. he thought of azazel who could not hide in plain sight. they deserved a world they could love too.

[faellain]

I love that Wolverine is the X-Men fandom bicycle. You go short bear king. Break those stereotypes.

[faellain]

The Eldritch Solarpunk Isekai

Summary: Anakin wakes up in strangely colored dark forest after seemingly dying. But is everything as it seems as he discovers more about the past of this world? Better yet, can he do it without dying to one of the cults running around?

Snippet 1

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when anakin wakes up, it's in a forest. which is, admittedly strange as he was certainly in a car just a minute ago. instead of city skyline, though, a canopy of trees with moss green trunks and midnight blue leaves hang above him. little silver starfruits hang above his head. at first, he thinks the odd coloring might be the result of a concussion, but when be lift his head to feel the back of it, there's no crack, blood, or bump to be found. it's not even sore.

through the trees, he can see that the sun is out, but beneath their shade it's almost night. above him, a starfruit sways and plops off the tree, bouncing off his stomach and rolling along the grass. another equally strange bit of flora, the grass is short, but soft as velvet. even in the shade, its teal hue is obvious. anakin plucks a blade of it, twirling the small grass between his fingers.

he takes a few deep breaths, trying to remember what happened. a soft ringing echoes in his ears, a terse frown prominent on his face as he pushes through the headache to his memories. 

/ /

“i take you in, i feed you, clothe you when no one else would and this is how you repay me?”

anakin hates him. disgust boils up inside his stomach like a witch's cauldron, bubbling over with dark magics. his adoptive father doesn't have to care any more. he has long since aged out of the system and, legally bound or not, anakin is not his son. there is nothing between them.

so why does dooku keep coming back?

“you didn't have to bail me out,” anakin reminds him, letting his head thunk against the tinted window of the jet back rolls-royce dooku had been favoring lately. all dooku bothers to do is scoff, slipping quickly into silence after.

new york's skyline creeps along in bumper to bumper traffic. honking horns scream into the already noisy city's atmosphere. next time, he'd go scrapping in staten island. being bailed out in manhattan during rush hour sucked. the cops might even look the other way on staten island. maybe give his prosthetic a sideways glance or sneer at his long hair, but anakin blended in there.

the best scrapping was in the bronx. anakin found the strangest things there. perhaps it was the age of the borough, it's old age seeping luck into the soil that let anakin find the parts he wanted to use for his latest creation or bit of fiddling. for now, he had to steer clear of the bronx. one too many arrests had put his poster up in the police department.

any scrapping would be delayed. if anakin knew surly old dooku, and he did, then his father was about to drag him out two and half hours to the catskills rather than make him stay in dooku's brooklyn two level high rise or pick up anakin's currently impounded powder blue 1992 mercury cougar that he'd bought for one thousand even. upon getting a good drive with her, he named her twilight. she was the only thing he owned besides the clothes he stored in her trunk and the bits and bobs of metal he played with in his pocket. when he had been arrested this time, the officer who pinned him broke his phone. an old pink motorola razr, it's worn hinge snapped the phone in half when anakin had been pushed to the ground. dirt had gotten up his nose, but all he could think about was the feeling of the snap followed by the crunch of his thigh decimating the rest of the phone.

“i want to go to the impound lot to get twilight,” he finally says to dooku’s disappointed silence that had been growing.

“i will not pay to free your death trap,” dooku replies, “we are going up to the mountains. you can earn some honest money doing handiwork and then we can go back and get it. or better, sell it and get you a better one.”

“twilight runs and she's warm in the winter,” he retorts. 

dooku goes uncomfortably quiet in his seat. being reminded that anakin lives out of his car always bothers him. it's why anakin brings it up— making dooku feel bad is at least a minor victory.

hesitation follows as dooku flexes his hands on the steering wheel, “we could always stay in the mountains. the handiwork is good there and i can do that— what's it called? telework?”

“you know i hate the fucking catskills,” anakin snarls at him, “and i’m not putting myself in a position where i owe you more than i already do.”

dooku bites right back, “you had every opportunity, but you insist on throwing everything away!”

“i came with a record and it was never going to go away!” anakin snaps, “don't act like i can just change my life.”

“you can. you just don't want to.”

indignation is a hell of a drug. and dooku had just injected it directly into anakin’s veins. anakin sucks in a breath to really scream, really lay into the reality of his life to this old man who thinks his shit doesn't stink when a deep, loud horn blares. red light glows at the top of the windshield. his head whips right. a semi-truck in the middle of the fucking city. and dooku is mid-blowing a red light. anakin slams his hands onto the wheel, trying to turn it up on the sidewalk.

“LOOK OUT!”

beneath the sound of the horn sounding a second time, anakin can hear dooku yelling at him not to grab the wheel. glass shattering comes next, but anakin can't hear after that. everything is dark.

/ /

if that was a car crash, then this is the weirdest hospital he's ever been in. long slow breaths are doing little to truly calm him down, but he can't do anything more than that. adrenaline and anxiety are forcing him into becoming a heavy weight, sinking into the velvet grass.

maybe it was some weird experimental hospital dooku had requested for emergencies. he doubted it, but that was a better thought than thinking he was in hell. because there was no way anakin skywalker was getting in heaven. purgatory at best.

he lifted his prosthetic hand, its 3d printed whiteness stark in this blue forest. while his arm had moved, the hand had not— out of battery. it was stuck in ‘holding a steering wheel’ position. a soft groan escaped him. he had just charged it! it was the only thing dooku had ever given him that he kept. 

anakin finally sits up, blood going cold at how abruptly realization hit him. no hospital would have left his prosthetic on. and there was no way, in reality, for him to end up in a forest when he was just in the urban jungle of new york city. especially one that was midnight blue with silver, sparkling starfruits. plus, if he was dead, why would he take his prosthetic with him and why would it be *out of battery*?

wherever he was, it was real.

“toto, i got a feeling we're not in kansas anymore,” he murmurs in an effort to make himself laugh. it doesn't work.

tree leaves could be a lot of of colors, but he was pretty sure the color of the night sky wasn't one of them. he let his hand wander parts of his skin, but he could tell he wasn't injured. even his legs, bare from the knee down in black cargo shorts, seemed fine. moving his joints, he stretched making sure he was okay. a long suffering sigh escapes him.

there was no way to determine north outside of what little glimpse he could get of the sun. at least the big yellow ball of light looked normal. its slow movement looked like a descent so anakin decided it was headed west. 

while he had never been a boy scout, anakin had run away before and knew how to orient himself. he quickly turned to his right. when in doubt, head north. as he did though, he saw something in the distance. through the leaves, shadows were moving. 

no. not shadows. coming toward him was a parade of figures, about ten in total, all wearing midnight blue cloaks that hid them among the leaves. beneath the cloaks all of them seemed to have silver clothes that glimmered from the inside if they caught the light. anakin's throat dried immediately, particularly feeling the arid weather infesting his flesh, cracking his esophagus. he had seen enough horror movies to know where this was going. 

south it fucking was then.

anakin takes off running in the opposite direction. a quick thought made him duck east under some low branches. old habits died hard. but he could still hear the footsteps behind him. looking back never got anyone anywhere, though. when you looked back, you slowed down and if you slowed down you got caught. despite the burn in his muscles, anakin pushes on. no way was he going from holding to wicker man victim. 

trees thin out as he runs. what would happen once he left the woods? would the figures stop at the edge or pursue? each beat of his heart was thunder roaring in his chest, pushing pulsating blood through his ears making him hear his heartbeat like a storm. running from cops or crooks was one thing, a cult was another. all he could do was press onward. he clearly hadn’t been too deep into the woods, but that didn’t mean he was anywhere near civilization. 

yet, he could never expect just what he would find at the edge of the forest– the edge of the world. 

anakin does his best to slide to a stop, but the dirt has little hold and a lot of give, especially in his old worn sneakers. a shout escapes him, turning his throat raw as he flails, falling over the side. another quick thought saves him. he turns, grateful suddenly that he’d been holding the steering as he’s able to get both of his arms on the edge of the world. his feet kick in the open air, eyes facing a white rim around the forest. wind whips at at him, threatening his grip as he grits his teeth to try and pull himself up. 

below him, when he looks quickly to see what falling would entail, is a vast expanse of dark, deep ocean. waves lap at a translucent… trunk of sorts that is supporting the forest. while it appears as a unified whole, when anakin squints, he notices that there are several pieces twisting together like a tight braid. he squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his head to the rim as he struggles. maybe he really shouldn’t have skipped the pull up bar days at school. 

“you fool!” he hears someone shout. 

if it’s dying or cult, anakin will take the cult. 

“help!” he shouts, trying to make sure the people know exactly where he is. he did not survive a car crash just to die by hitting an ocean a skyscraper’s height below him. 

two hands grab his own, a sigh of relief finally escaping him as he’s dragged up and over the edge of the forest. bruises form as his hips hit the band, but he couldn’t care less as he’s back on solid ground. he heaves, nearly tempted to wretch, as he pushes his hands against the still velvet, still very teal grass. thank fuck. oh, than fuck. 

“what is he wearing?” he hears one hooded figure ask. 

“what is on his arm?” another asks. 

anakin looks up at them. they are now the holders of his fate, after all. if he believed in anything, he’d be praying they weren’t serial killers. hopefully, they were just run of the mill hippies committing tax fraud or something. the hooded figure at the front, the one who had grabbed his hands was silent, looking at him skeptically, if the tilt from beneath the hood was anything to go by. 

that one’s cloak was different from the others. silver embroidery of the moon in different phases lined the edge of the hood and on the cuffs of the sleeves. despite its simplicity, it was beautiful to look at. still, the hoods did a good job of keeping the wearer’s face in shadow. anakin could see little more than the man’s chin, peeking out from the hood. maybe he really should start praying. 

“are you alright?” the figure asked. 

anakin nodded, “think so. you scared the shit out of me.” 

“that explains why you ran,” murmured the figure, who anakin figured might be the leader. 

that was when the leader removed his hood. slowly, it slipped away from his head. most likely, he had removed it to show anakin that he was just an ordinary person. yet, it only made anakin’s stomach bottom out. his breath shook as he stared up at the figure. lush brown hair spilled out as the hood came down, two bright blond-white locks hanging down at the front. the face was soft, but brought him no comfort. all he could do was wonder if his eyes were playing tricks on him. 

“ferus???” 

/ /

moving out of dooku’s home had been a godsend. able to finally be free of him, anakin felt lighter. there was a world of possibility at his fingertips. all he had to do was work around his record, find a job, and get his life on track. a fuck up was no longer who he had to be. he could be the man his boyfriend saw in him.

ferus olin was uppity and smart and didn’t take any of anakin’s shit. at first, he’d hated it. dealing with ferus made him want to scream. getting to know each other though, throughout high school, resulted in a mutual respect that grew into friendship that had blossomed into love. after all the shit he’d lived through, after dooku’s hollow gestures, he had someone who loved him. believed in him. saw the good no one else could see.

until, of course, that all fell apart too.

they had lasted a year. living together was very different than being high school sweethearts it seemed. despite his best efforts, anakin couldn’t get a job. scrapping was easy money, if illegal, and anakin was good at it. ferus was flabbergasted the first time anakin got arrested. they worked together to try and get anakin’s record expunged, but anakin knew they needed money. he thought he’d be more careful, but he’d gotten caught again. ferus didn’t give him a third chance.

“you don’t want to change. your grandfather’s right.” 

“you’re just like every other rich fuck who thinks that they know! god, what the fuck did i ever see in you?”

even as he slams down twilight’s trunk with a suitcase of clothes and toiletries, knowing ferus thinks he plans to go back to dooku when anakin knows he can never do that, he can still hear the echoes of a fight from months ago ringing in his ear. all he’d done was come to pick up the last of his stuff. but he can feel ferus’ eyes on him, watching him.

once they’re gone, anakin heaves a sigh of relief thinking that it’s over, that the chapter of this part of his book has ended. instead, as he’s about to climb into the driver’s seat, ferus slips out of the apartment building and stalks over to him, standing on the passenger side of the car. chilly air makes ferus tug a jacket tighter around his arms. 

“i still love you,” ferus tells him, “and if you do change, and i haven’t moved on, you know i’ll welcome you back with open arms.”

anakin frowns, “you think you’re so much better than me. you always have. i’m not your charity case.”

ferus shakes his head, “it’s not like that at all.”

“bullshit!” snaps anakin, throwing up his hands, “love is supposed to be unconditional! you’re not supposed to throw me out if you still love me.”  

“my love is unconditional,” he replies, the blond locks of his hair moving in the slight breeze, “but i love myself too. and i have to do what’s right for me.”

anger rears up like a bucking horse inside anakin. he feels like he could blaze as hot as the sun, melt ferus alive. instead, he bangs his fist on twilight’s hood, leaving a dent that he’ll have  to bang out later. his ex-boyfriend jolts at the sudden violence. while the anger doesn’t go away, the reaction makes anakin settle a bit, resorting to harsh glares and frowning.

“you’re selfish then,” anakin tells him, “and i hope you regret making me leave.”

when he slams the door closed behind him, he doesn’t look at ferus in his rearview. looking back makes you slow. it gets you caught. instead, he looks forward. in the four years since that day, anakin has not once returned to queens. he doesn’t dare. ferus could always be anywhere in the city, but queens had been the home of his love and his happiness. two many good memories turned sour there. just stepping over the borough line felt like trudging into solid, spoiled milk. there was no good man ferus saw, after all, just the man anakin pretended to be for him. anakin was anakin. that was that.

[faellain]

Xmen fans aren't ready for the fact that Scott Summers IS the perfect candidate for a cherik lovechild. That traumatized orphan could have fixed their marriage if Erik helped raise him.

[faellain]

Snippet 5 for accidental baby trap was missing a section and that has been corrected

[faellain]

The Accidental Baby Trap Incident

Summary: About four years after the events of First Class, Erik arrives at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters with two little twins who he didn't know existed. Thinking he doesn't know what to do, he runs to Charles, not knowing the state his old friend is in.

Snippet 5

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charles goes back to avoiding him while he weans himself off the shots. raven is clearly annoyed with erik, but she knows he didn't want to do this to her. to either of them. neither does she take a shine to the kids but kids were never exactly raven's speciality.

on the third day of charles flushing out the drug, erik finds him leaning on the outside rail, staring at the satelite dish. erik lifts his hand, moving it towards them, memories of his mother and their menorah and of charles bringing that memory back dancing in his mind. charles jolts when it moves but then turns to see erik. after a moment, he turns back, but does not tell him to leave.

erik stands next to him, staring at the satelite. silence hangs over them like dark clouds before a storm. did charles really hate him? did he really hate charles? when he was worried about his children, charles was where he had turned. yet, he felt stung- betrayed by charles saying they did not want the same thing. by charles' dedication to a coexistance that could never be.

"we'll never be those men again," charles says.

"pardon?"

"we'll never be them again," charles repeats, his voice wistful, "i will never be the charles xavier who pulled you out of the water. you will never be the erik lehnsherr who could not move a satelite dish."

"we are those men," erik tells him, not fully understanding.

"no. those men died on a beach in cuba," charles all but whispers, his voice shaking, "erik died the moment you put on that helmet. charles died when you left him on that beach."

erik frowned, his nose wrinkling in disgust, "so it's all my fault then?"

"yes," charles replies, quick and firm, his once piercing azure eyes still dull and tired. he hasn't been sleeping.

"fuck you," erik snaps, "i gave you the chance to stay at my side. you told me no. you said we didn't want the same thing."

"we don't," charles tells him, "my erik did. but you do not. you tried to kill my erik so often. the minute you found a way to shut me out of his mind, you took it. and you made him a monster."

"i am not a monster," he growls, taking charles by the shirt with one hand, "i didn't come out here to fight with you."

"i loved you so much," charles says, voice so gentle that it hurts, "but it was never going to be enough. your hate will always be so much stronger than anything else in your heart."

erik wants to scream until his throat is raw. part of him wants to hurl charles into the satelite dish. his teeth click as they grit togther inside his clenched jaw. his hand shoves charles back as he shakes his head, disgusted with him.

"you are so self-righteous," erik sneers, "you always have been. it is why raven left. it is why i left. you think you are some beacon of morality and peace, but you're just a man. and you've become a pathetic one at that."

charles laughs, hollow and broken, "maybe so. it's nothing i don't already know."

erik did not expect charles to agree. an arguement would have felt good. instead, charles rolls over like a tired hound dog. there is no bite in him, no spark of hope and kindness.

i did that, erik thinks and wishes that charles could hear him.

"did what?" asks charles, fingers rubbing his temples in hypnotic circles.

erik whips his head up to look at him. instead of trying to press, charles is walking away, rubbing the side of his head fiercely as a headache comes on. he mutters something about not wanting to know. instead of letting the other man be, erik follows him his pace brisk.

"you need to sit down," he says.

"you need to leave me be."

"charles-"

charles glares at him, anger taking over him, "you do not get to pretend you care about me!"

as he storms over the threshold with thundering steps, charles gasps, hand flying to the base of his spine. his legs give out. erik sees him falling and rushes forward, grabbing him before he can hit that hardwood floor. he all but flies toward the wall, hitting his own back so he can sink them both down, cradling charles in his arms.

"i- i can't do it," charles whispers, voice shaking before he shouts, "HANK! i can't do it. ask your diamond friend, erik. i can't do it."

"charles, breathe, tell me what's wrong," erk says, moving to cup charles' face.

charles laughs bitterly, his cracking pale lips shaking, his hand riddled with tremors as he touches his leg, "as these go," he moves his trembling hand to his temple, "this comes back. as i said."

all this over his powers. this was the result they wanted. raven had come here so charles could use cerebro and his familiarity with sean, but there was nothing stopping them from having azazel teleport emma in. it would have been faster than flushing the drug out of charles' system. had erik and raven not bothered to think of it because charles was already there or had they made a silent agreement to get charles back to the way he was.

but he had never been like this. from erik's arms, he calls for hank again. the young scientist runs by the top of the stairs, looks down at charles and shoots off. no doubt he was willing to give in to the demands of a charles clearly in pain. erik is tempted to as well. a shaky breath all but plows through charles' body, lifting his hands to cover his ears.

"they all come back," he whispers, wincing as he pressed against erik.

charles starts wrestling with his shirt, trying to roll up the sleeve. ever since he had arrived, even when they had kissed, erik had not seen charles' arms. at his vein there is a dark pock-mark. purple and red petals blossom around it, but it churns erik's stomach. he presses his arms around charles, keeping him from doing any more.

"don't stop me," charles hisses, begging, "i can't do this. i can't hear them all. it's too much."

erik cups charles' cheek, pressing their foreheads together. such tenderness feels foreign to him now, yet it's so easy to remember holding charles like this. it's even easier to imagine they're on a beach in cuba, erik about to make the biggest mistake of his life. leaving charles behind should have never been an option.

"focus on me," he tells him, "you can do that. find my mind. only feel my thoughts."

"i- i will never go back inside that head again," spits charles, though he does not push away.

i love you, erik all but screams, knowing now that charles has to be able to hear him. he lights his thoughts up like a beacon, trying to blare them loudly. charles goes remarkably still in his arms.

happy memories- of the road trip. of that first kiss. of dancing. of channukah. of the satelite. of doing missions together. all of it love. all of it their story. erik came here because no matter how many allies he has, charles is his friend. his lover. his other half.

they had been made for each other. erik truly, deeply, madly believed that, even now. even after everything.

a hiccup escapes charles' lips, mind prodding at the recent memory of their angry kiss. there had been no danger. just a frustrated erik who was struggling to pretend that was was between them was dead. charles reaches up, his hands clinging to erik's arms like a life line, letting himself be bathed in the noise of erik's thoughts.

of erik's love for him.

"i- but- " charles tries to garble out but fails.

i have loved you from the moment you told me i was not alone, erik explains, nuzzling charles' hair, even though it was stringy and tinged with sweat. it was still part of charles, his beautiful perfect charles.

every pained gasp made erik's heart wrench. as much as he wanted to blame moira, this was hardly her fault. by god, did he want it to be her fault. yet, she had only done it to stop him. he had only been careless a moment.

charles was shaky as he cups erik's cheek, smiling at him. he says no words, but shakes his head. erik wishes he was a telepath, not for the first time. charles is painfully cryptic. still, he gasps again as hank rounds the corner.

"raven is keeping the kids from seeing. i've got some serum with a little bit extra if he wants it."

erik looks down at charles, "do you? we can get emma."

that is the last thing he wants. but charles is clearly in pain, he is fighting his very nature. suffering is not something erik likes to see in charles' face. yet, the other slowly shakes his head no.

"erik, carry me to the study, please."

without question, erik slides his arm beneath charles' knees, hoisting him up as he stands. charles arms come to rest at either side of his neck. erik presses his nosebridge to the side of charles' temple. all three are silent as they go to the study. charles lets out a breathless chuckle- he hasn't been in here since erik's arrival. erik knows because he dusts and cleans in here often enough.

memories float along which make charles, still tired, still unsure lean against erik's shoulder slightly. their heartbeats thud in tandem. all erik does is adjust his hold, securing charles closer.

hank opens the door to a closet. there are plenty of things in there, but erik has never opened it. curiousity nearly got the better of him several time since he could feel a magnetic pull in there, but he was trying to avoid losing the tenative acceptance he and his children had. even if he did prefer to argue with charles.

inside, sits a sleek wheelchair. its not the rickety thing that erik is used to seeing. much of it is polished wood with built-in gray cushions for charles' comfort. yet erik can feel it. metal lines the wheels, the brakes. despite everything, charles designed this wheelchair so erik could one day push him in it.

i had always hoped you'd come back, a soft, tired voice prods into erik's mind.

you fool, he replies, what if i had used it to kidnap you?

unaware of their conversation, hank shakes his head, "are you sure about this?"

charles shakes his head, "absolutely not."

all three of them head downstairs to cerebro, erik pushing charles along with a light curl of his fingers. he can feel charles' focus playing with the edges of his mind, still using him to keep from hearing every voice his powers let him all at once. good. it means that charles is exercising his ability to control his powers.

erik had not seen this completed cerebro. he had helped build the skeleton of it when they were training for cuba, but he never saw it finished. a blue 'x' scans charles' eye before an automated voice welcomes him inside. he watches charles' jaw clench with apprehension.

i'm here with you, he reminds him, softly. is it as much of a comfort as he hopes?

[faellain]

— David Cronenberg, Consumed

[faellain]

The Accidental Baby Trap Incident

Summary: About four years after the events of First Class, Erik arrives at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters with two little twins who he didn't know existed. Thinking he doesn't know what to do, he runs to Charles, not knowing the state his old friend is in.

Snippet 4

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both of them avoid each other over the next few weeks. charles speaks with the children, learns their powers. erik trains them, tests them, seeings their strengths and weaknesses. hank acts as the middle man of it all. each day life falls a little bit into place, but it's not a life to live forever. not for children. both of them know that.

during the day charles is attentive, but once the sun goes down, he drinks. part of him wonders if he can feel his liver rot. he lays back against the headboard of his bed and sighs.

"drinking?"

charles jumps, thinking its erik at first but that wasn't erik's voice. he turns and sees two yellow eyes blink at him from the corner of his room. from the shadow, raven emerges, blue with her hair bright red. her body seems to soak up all the shadows of the room. in contrast, she wears a pair of white pants and a white crop top all in leather. she sighs and takes a seat in a chair, crossing her legs at the knees.

"raven?"

she smiles, "been a long time."

"…is this about erik?"

she leans forward, "what about erik? i'm here for you. i need to find someone."

riptide, charles assumes. he doesn't know that he's wrong. how can he? he pushes himself up, legs shaky. raven balks suddenly.

"how can you walk?"

"hank," charles answers glibly, words slurring slightly, "but i'm not- raven, hh-" charles staggers gently, a mix of booze and pin-prick pain in his spine.

"how much have you been drinking?" she asks, her eyes narrowing.

charles pouts, "i fail to see what that matters."

"as much as our mother?"

"raven, tell me why you're here."

when erik wakes up, it's to the sound of shattering glass bottles.

without hesitation, erik runs up to charles room, pulling anything he can use as a weapon to follow him as he does. once at charles' room, he breaks the door down with his foot. unfortunately for him, there is no real danger and he's not about to heroically rescue charles from some nefarious interloper.

raven's hawkish yellow eyes widen as she sees him, a bottle of very expensive looking vodka in her hand. at her feet lay shattered glasses and the copious bottles of liquor that charles has been keeping in his room. one day, while charles was attending to the twins, erik snuck up there to see just how bad it was. part of him had wanted to get rid of the bottles. instead, he'd washed charles' foul smelling sheets.

that very man is leaning against a dresser, hands outstretched as if to calm raven, which he very much will not be able to do to. even when he had his powers, he never even so much as read her mind. erik remembers how charles once mentioned that he had to make extra effort not to do so. all minds were simply open to him in a way that he had to learn to live with. there was no off unless he himself put the barrier there.

"erik," mystique hisses, "this is your secret mission? babysitting charles while he drinks himself to death?"

"no, you misunderstand," erik tries to reason with her, "there are things i haven't been able to tell you."

"like what?"

from the hall, erik can only sigh as he hears calls of, "papa! papa! we heard a crash!"

wind whips around him as pietro appears with a metal fucking baseball bat in his hands, "is someone here for the prof? i'll kick their ass!"

"pietro," erik says, lifting his hand, quickly removing the bat from his son's hands before he hurts himself, "language."

"dad," pietro replies in a tone directly mocking erik's own, "peter."

raven's jaw drops a little as she stares down at the young boy still ready to punch whoever was going after the teacher he'd come to care for. as she seems to be processing this, wanda wedges her way in, holding up her hands in an imitation of erik, but with red light sparking from her hands. he sighs gently, putting the bat under his arm. as he kneels, he gently lowers her hands.

"pietro, wanda," he says, as calmly as he can, "this is mystique-"

"also known as your aunt raven," charles quickly corrects with a smug smirk which earns him glares from both raven and erik, "she's my sister and a friend of your father's."

erik doesn't want to process charles declaring her an aunt. he knows sometimes people do that with friends, but- well, seeing her always put charles in a good mood. he adored his little sister more than anything. both of them leaving that day in cuba… erik had barely registered what that might have done to him to lose both of them in one day.

"oh," pietro says, blinking owlishly at her, "why are you blue?"

"pietro!" erik scolds.

"peter!" pietro reminds him, still directly mimicking erik's voice. why was it that his son insisted on being difficult so often between bouts of sweetness?

raven stills and looks at erik, "your kids?"

"with magda," he explains, "she passed and they came to me. she never told me."

her eyes narrow again, "and you went to charles? not the brotherhood?"

"the brotherhood?" charles balks in an effort to hold back aghast laughter, "is that what you call your group of misfits?"

"it's better than the vainglorious x-men," sneers erik.

"x-men wasn't my idea," charles reminds him.

"okay but why is she blue? is she like us?" pietro snaps, impatiently, frustrated at being ignored.

there's another crashing sound. the final member of the house stumbles into charles' room, wiping sleep from his eyes with big blue paws. much to erik's horror, wanda yelps.

"it's a werewolf!"

hank blinks down at wanda, "wha- oh. it's me, wanda. it's hank."

"are we all gonna turn blue?" asks pietro, suddenly alarmed.

erik grabs pietro and puts a hand over his mouth. his son bites him for the effort, but erik has endured worse pain than children's teeth. he doesn't do so much as flinch. a long sigh escapes him as he shakes his head. this is going to be a lot of explaining.

"mystique is blue because of her mutation," erik explains calmly, "like your hair."

"oh," pietro says without removing his teeth. erik's skin puckers with the effort.

wanda approaches hank quietly, motioning him to kneel down. he does so. carefully, he touches his face. little hands and fingers run along blue fur, her face twisted up and pensive. suddenly, she breaks into a warm smile. her feet bounce, giddy.

"it is you!" she exclaims, hugging him. wanda is a bit fond of hank- she appreciates how quiet he is and that he gave her cookies their first day.

hank is clearly taken aback, but hugs wanda after a moment, picking her up. such a gestures seems to even momentarily melt raven's iced-over heart. it's very early (or very late) so neither child should be up which means erik clearly needs to put them back to bed so the adults can talk. convincing pietro to stay in bed is another matter entirely.

"let me tuck these two back in," erik says, before clearing his throat, "unless you want to hear the dreadfully boring coversation about…" erik trails off and sees charles mouth taxes, "taxes we are all about to have."

"taxes?"

"yes. about the house," erik replies, forcibly removing pietro's mouth from his palm. he smiles as he takes wanda from hank and looks at them, "i'll meet you all soon."

as erik leaves the room, he hears charles huff, "did you have to smash all the bottles?"

"you're acting like a fucking alcholic."

"raven!"

erik does his best to ignore the rest of the conversaation. clearly, raven is furious. there is no small amount of joy in that she immediately took action. coming to charles in need of help, erik felt like he could do nothing. not to mention how little charles had felt like himself lately. living at the mansion was still like living with the specter of his friend.

once the kids are tucked tightly in bed, erik heads downstairs, passing by charles' room on the way. the glass has been dumped in a waste basket.

he makes his way down to the sitting room where raven is sitting in one of the plush velvet chairs, her hair fading into the red like flames. hank is thumbling a glass of water with his burly paws. charles has managed to get a drink, but raven looks seconds from slapping it out of his hand. instead, erik snatches it from him and downs it himself. he knows he's going to need it.

heat licks down his throat from the whiskey. from the corner of his eye, he can see raven's smirk. good. that may soften the blow of all this a little. not by a lot, but at least she'll know he's not just letting charles drink himself into liver failure.

"really, erik?"

"i needed it," he says as he sits, setting down the glass. he looks to raven, "i'm sorry i didn't tell you sooner. i wanted to."

raven nods, "charles and hank caught me up about wanda. i'm pissed, but… i can't say i don't understand."

neither of them would ever be as close as the other was with charles, but they had an understanding. mystique was an excellent right-hand, wasted playing sychophant to charles' professorial endeavours. did charles know she still had a grand success rate without ever actually taking a life? that was something he was sure his soft-hearted friend would be pleased with.

"what brings you here then?" he asks, leaning forward.

"sean's going to be taken in a few days,; i don't know how many," she explains, "we think he got separated from alex and my guess is it's the same people who have riptide."

charles sits up at that, "sean's in danger?"

"he is. but i don't know where in vietnam he is. i had been hoping you could help with that," she snaps, leaning back, "but…" her eyes flash towards his nervously bouncing leg.

charles licks his lips, "it will take awhile to flush out the drugs from my system. and i can't promise i'll be able to do it, but- but for sean, i'll do what i can."

raven smiles, "thank you."

erik, however, feels his suspicion rising. emma and azazel know to report to him anything about his and charles' old pupils. angel would have went to both him and raven right away. where did this information come from?

"and who told you this?" his eyebrow raises slightly.

raven huffs at him, "destiny saw it."

of course.

"so we have nothing verifiable to say that it will happen," erik crosses his arms, "you'll lead us on a wild goose chase."

"who is destiny?" asks hank, clearly confused.

"she's a mutant-"

"she's a madwoman," erik sighs, "who says she's a mutant. but she also thinks she's irene adler."

"like from sherlock holmes?" asks charles, looking to erik and then to raven.

"her prophecies have come true before. they just don't always go the way we think," she argues, "we get glimpses and have to go off of that. but i trust her."

"if raven trusts her, so do i," charles replies and erik rolls his eyes. just a few minutes ago, raven was shattering all of his booze. now, it's as if they've never stopped speaking. siblings. erik could never understand. he and ruth had never been like that.

or maybe they had simply never gotten the chance.

raven smirks proudly, "then it's decided. try to make that flush quick. i don't know how much time we have."

hank nods, "we should probably get alex out too. he'll be next."

"agreed," erik says, standing up. his eyes wander, staring at charles who won't look at him. the other is staring nervously off into space. once, he would have reached out to touch him. now, he doesn't.

[faellain]

The Accidental Baby Trap Incident

Summary: About four years after the events of First Class, Erik arrives at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters with two little twins who he didn't know existed. Thinking he doesn't know what to do, he runs to Charles, not knowing the state his old friend is in.

Snippet 3

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the next morning, erik tiredly takes the twins down to the kitchen, providing them a breakfast of orange juice, apple slices, and toast with butter. he drinks three cups of black coffee and eats a single apple slice. without him there, and with charles in a state, hank has forgone actual coffee for instant like a savage. it might as well be mud as far as erik is concerned.

"i hate toast," pietro tells him and briefly erik wonders how anyone could hate toasted bread.

erik sighs beleagueredly, "when i was young, i'd be grateful for any meal- wanda, do not turn your brother's toast into something else."

"yeah, i don't if i can do that again," she admits sheepishly, pulling the hand that was about to tap her brother's toast away, "i kinda don't know how i did it to the cookies."

"you're young. i didn't know how to master my own mutation till i was older and even then, sometimes i still needed help," erik assures her. wanda happily munches on her apples after that. pietro rolls his eyes.

he cleans up everything, wondering just how to start this day. it wasn't as if his children were full grown adults who he could toss into the danger room. he did not know where to begin training seven year olds. most mutants didn't even manifest until puberty... but his kids were early bloomers.

as he picks up breakfast, he hears footsteps coming around the corner. at first, he assumes it's hank. perhaps the other actually decided to emerge out of his lab at a reasonable hour. but hank walks with a heavy footstep from his mutation. these steps are light, stilted.

"oh!" he hears charles say, "well, uh, hello you two."

"you're the guy who punched dad!" laughs pietro, "you got 'im good!"

erik turns, "pietro-"

charles kneels down to speak with the children at eye level in their chairs, "he told me you have mutations of your own. what can you both do?"

"i run fast!" pietro exclaims before dashing out of his chair, leaving charles' hair whipping against his face. after a mere moment, he comes back with an empty glass which he offers to erik, "here, dad, you can wash this too."

"very impressive," charles tells him and pietro beams.

erik takes the glass as charles stares at it briefly before turning his attention back to the children. most likely it had come from his room. he turns and smiles at wanda.

"and you, little one?" he asks her.

"my powers are kinda funny," she admits, "i usually just use them to hold pietro in place or make things float when i get upset. but i turned snicker-whatevers into chocolate chip cookies yesterday."

finally, charles looks at erik, clear realization of just why erik has come to him finally dawning on him. pietro would grow to be an ordinary mutant, one who would need training and would excell, but not right away. wanda was like nothing they had ever seen before. charles turns back to her, nodding, and squeezing her little hands.

"that's very special. you both are," he tells her and then turns to pietro before moving back to look at both of them, "how about you two go and play in the yard? i have a tire swing out there you might like."

they both cheer and wanda looks at erik, "can we, papa?"

"go ahead. just don't go past the tree," he says. they promise, not that he trusts pietro to abide by that promise. but they both take each other's hands and dash off at wanda's speed.

charles stands, moving to make his own coffee, "they're lovely children… you never told me."

"i didn't know," erik replies, "magda didn't want my life for them."

"doesn't surprise me. vengenance, death of humanity and all that," charles murmurs as he pulls out a mug.

erik notices that he did shower at some point between their arguement and now. his hair lacks the grease and the smell has disappated in favor of the soap charles prefers. even years later, he could smell that soap and know charles was near.

"i don't understand her power," erik cuts to the chase, "i assumed she was telekinetic. and then one day she changed the color of her shirt by wishing it. and now the cookies."

"…you're scared of her," charles says, looking at him again. erik wants to die beneath that gaze.

"i'm scared of what others might do to her."

charles digs out one of the chocolate chip cookies from the pantry, erik resisting his desire to glibly remind charles that those are not a breakfast food. he sniffs it, stares at it before taking a bite and nodding in odd approval. at least his daughter didn't turn them into cookies that tasted bad.

"i suppose we shouldn't be surprised considering just how powerful her father is," charles says absently.

"perhaps only surpassed by a child of yours," hums erik, tiredly. imagning a child with equal or greater telepathic ability to charles is rather insane. he is perhaps the strongest telepath they know, even more powerful than emma.

charles laughs dismissevly, "that will never happen. i was careful before and i don't want one. i never did."

"you opened a school."

"yes. for school aged children with mutations like your children," he reminds erik, tone clipped as he stares at the coffee carafe filling up, "not babies. i shouldn't- it's one thing to teach children, it's another to raise them."

erik goes quiet. that he at least agrees with. at least he had a good example, but he knows a little about charles and raven's upbringing. mostly, frustratingly, from raven. charles knew everything about erik, yet charles hid his life, his pain from him constantly. even raven didn't speak much on their life outside of their inattentive mother who charles loved deeply anyway.

"hank invited me to stay the night after wanda changed the cookies," erik explains, quietly, too awkward. it's so strange to lack the helmet, but have charles in his arm's reach, yet not feel the other sharing his mind, knowing his thoughts. he would never let anyone else do that, "but we can leave."

charles shakes his head, "no. clearly we at least need to figure out what wanda's mutation is. do your- does raven know about them?"

"no," erik explains, "i haven't told any of them. to be honest, i've gone totally radio silent on them. i need to rectify that. give them some lie to keep them passive."

"you're the one who divided us," charles huffs, "it's not like they can tell you no. are you telling me you don't trust angel and raven with your kids?"

"i do," erik assures, "but we have other things on our plate. riptide is… missing. i had him investigating some possible mutants in vietnam and he's disappeared."

"disappeared?" reiterates charles, "should i be concerned? sean and alex were deployed early into this mess."

erik feels his heart speed up, "deployed?"

"sean got drafted," charles explains, "alex decided to enlist so he wouldn't have to go alone."

"and you let them just go? with the military?" erik snaps, "well, of course you did. you would. you and your peace."

"don't turn this into something it isn't," huffs charles, "i hadn't been taking the serum them. i asked sean if he wanted me to try and get him rejected. he told me no. they wouldn't be in any danger if you hadn't turned a million missiles on the government in cuba!"

"what you have always failed to see charles is that we were always in danger!"

charles turns on him rapidly, "not every human is the kind that hurt you."

"it is only a matter of time before they become them," erik snaps, leaving the dried dishes in a rack so he isn't tempted to throw them.

he can feel every knife in the shelf. their fields pull at him. the fridge feels like an atomic bomb, each little component awaiting his command. feeling the push and pull of the fields is his life, its his very nature. just as minds were charles'. but he's shut them out. where normally his feelings would be blaring loudly in charles' mind, he imagines himself as a giant black void to the former telepath.

how can it not be like losing a limb? then, of course, charles lost his legs. erik has lost so many things in his lifetime. his home, his safety, his parents, his autonomy… even charles himself. but he has never lost part of himself. even if they put him in a plastic cube, he could feel the push of magnets where the could not reach them.

"if that's true, then it is because you believe it so," charles replies, taking the carafe and pouring it into a mug.

instead of going for sugar or cream, charles grabs whiskey, angrily dumping it into the bitter drink. erik snatches it fromt he counter.

"i think you have had enough," erik tells him before dumping the entire mug down the drain.

"erik! goddamn you!" charles growls, shoving him almost childishly. his punch had been lucky and he never really had the stomach for true violence.

he takes charles' wrists, holding them tightly as he glares, "i said i think you've had enough."

"you do not get to waltz in here and pretend like we're still friends," charles writhes his wrists angrily, "you stopped being the erik i knew the minute you killed shaw!"

"shaw had to die!" erik replies, baring his teeth. sean had once teased him for his smile being shark-like, but he certainly feels it now. he feels like an angry animal with prey between its jaws, "you will never understand! do you think an absent mother compares at all to things he did to me?!"

charles attempts to kick him in the knee, but erik is stronger and while he doesn't let go, he does fall forward, pressing himself against charles and the counter. as he goes to start shouting again, he notices charles is shaking. he does not look like a frightened doe as one might expect from a doe-eyed man.

instead, he is defiant. there is fear in his eyes, something old, something that has nothing to do with erik. but in the face of erik's anger, charles does not waiver. his body betrays him, but he holds a brave face, a stalwart indignation like an immovable ship, anchored to a seafloor.

the first time erik had kissed charles, they had been sharing a bed as they went to meet sean. all of the two-bed rooms had been booked which left them with either one of them on the floor or both in the bed. originally, erik had planned to take the floor, but charles had pulled him up into the bed.

"you don't think about me the way most people do," charles whispered, the only light coming the street lamps flickering outside, "i don't mean to pry. i can't help it sometimes."

"what do you mean?"

charles smiled softly, rolling his eyes, "you'd think it very silly i imagine. but you always think my eyes are a different shade of blue. it's like you can't decide how to describe them. but you notice them when you think i'm being particularly clever."

erik had blushed, his very obvious feelings being laid bare by the telepath in bed with him. he had admired charles from the minute they had met. how could he not admire the first man to tell him he wasn't alone? the man who had saved his life?

"it helps that you are usually particularly clever when you're not being particularly foolish," erik managed to reply.

this time charles blushed, looking away. his teeth pierced those already pretty red lips slightly. oh. that bastard. he knew what he was doing.

"are you going to do anything about it if i am?" charles asked, apparently not realizing he was reading erik's thoughts. or, if he did, he clearly did not care.

they were so young then. their powers still felt so fresh and untrained, even when they had more control than most. a few items shuddered at that moment when erik did.

ignoring them, he ran a hand up charles' neck to cup his cheek, "i think i'm going to kiss you."

"oh, i very much hope you do."

kissing charles xavier had been so soft. both of them had considered sex that night, but had instead enjoyed the gift of exploring the other's mouth. later, erik would realize charles had been hoping for this because he tasted particularly like gum. he had pressed kisses along soft lips, nipped until charles' lips were swollen, they had gone for each other until both were breathless.

charles had let out soft little gasps and moans. erik had worshipped his lips, his cheeks, his neck. they were like two demigods, entangled, high priests of the other's temple. erik had wanted to devour charles whole. he'd been smooth, kind, gentle, but mischevious. that moment was a fairytale.

this is not like that.

this was a nightmare. from the minute erik's teeth had clicked against charles' own, he knew that it was. there was none of their old kindness to be had. erik hated charles' scratchy beard. he hated that charles clearly no longer knew what he wanted, instead fighting for dominance of the kiss. erik had at first pulled away only for charles to pull him back, bruise his lips, bite his tongue.

erik presses charles back harder, taking back his tongue and shoving it down charles' throat. he wants to choke him with it, he wants to make sure he can't breathe. their teeth click again when charles mirrors the tilt of his head as they both try to deepen the kiss.

did charles want to suffocate as much as erik hopes to do so?

erik pulls back when charles' breath doesn't stop despite that, tugs fiercely on his lip with his teeth. those paled lips look almost back to their former glory, but he even such ferocity has not revived their blushed hues.

"i hate you," charles whispers, voice cracking, bitter, "i hate you."

"the feeling, old friend," erik snaps mockingly, "is mututal."

they dive back in anyway, charles finally breaking a hand free to claw down erik's back. nail marks redden beneath erik's shirt. the action also earns him a hardening in erik's pants, making him smirk against the larger man's lips. instead of giving him what he's asking for, erik wraps a hand around charles' throat.

"if i did not need you," he snarls before trailing off, "do you know how easy it would be?"

it would not be easy. erik isn't even pressing down against charles' neck. all he is doing is holding it, the grip barely there. but- but it changes something in charles' expression. the fear that had disappeated returns. suddenly nails claw at his hand.

"let go, erik, let go."

"i thought you hated me. didn't you expect this?" asks erik, voice mournful as it settles in once again that charles simply does not know what he thinking. how he could never hurt charles like that again.

"please," charles suddenly begs, voice desperate, "please, erik, let me go."

erik backs away like he's been burned, charles turning quickly on his heels as he gasps for air as if erik had been truly choking him. he's running as best that his legs, still stilted, still obviously not walking the way humans with functional spines walk, can take him. without meaning to, he shoves past hank who has finally emerged for breakfast.

hank looks at erik, "what the fuck did you do?"

[faellain]

The Accidental Baby Trap Incident

Summary: About four years after the events of First Class, Erik arrives at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters with two little twins who he didn't know existed. Thinking he doesn't know what to do, he runs to Charles, not knowing the state his old friend is in.

Snippet 2

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they head to the study in stark silence. the mansion is eerie covered in cobwebs and without noise. sean's laughter wasn't echoing in the halls. there was no thudding of alex with a punching bag. no raven to whisper the secrets of this old house. no surprised yelps from hank as he dealt with some miscalculation or another in his lab. no moira fussing nearby. just creaks and the whistling wind keeps them company. he doubts even the kitchen feels the same.

the study is in even more disarray than the rest of the house. charles' precious books, always stacked precariously high ("i will get to them at some point, erik."), have been shoved off, laying in a heap on the floor. other books from the shelves have been left in messy piles around the room. little statuettes lay covered in dust.

charles goes straight to the cabinet he kept, taking out two wide glasses. he pours one for himself and downs it like a shot. it is nothing erik hasn't seen before. charles was always an impressive drinker— one night he and alex had gone toe to toe on tequila shots. yet now he only gets a terrible sinking feeling, like when he had tried to hold on to shaw's submarine the night they met.

after he smacks down the glass, he pours them both a drink. from the bottle, erik can tell it is a decadent bourbon. he sets the glass down for erik and plops himself down on the couch.

"you could have told me you were coming."

"and have you leave?" asks erik, picking up the glass, "in truth, i panicked. when i realized i had two twins with mutant abilities. i didn't know where else to go."

"you? panic?" charles asks with no small amount of skepticism.

erik sighs heavily, taking a sip from his glass, "believe it or not it can happen. i don't have the helmet. look into my mind. you'll see nothing but the truth."

"i can't."

erik pauses, looking up at the telepath from where he is tiredly leaning, "you can't?"

charles frowns, downs his drink, gets up and grabs the entire bottle of bourbon. he pours himself another glass before setting it down between them, the liquor sloshing around like liquid bronze. erik finds his heart pounding in his chest. charles made no move to explain himself.

"…did you lose your powers somehow?"

charles downs another half of his drink and erik wants to slap it from his hand.

"hank uses a serum to control his transformation. i use it to numb the pain in my spine, but it costs me most of my power," charles explains, "but in this state i have the ability solely to use telepathy on my own body."

"you gave up your powers so you could walk?"

charles chokes on a broken laugh, "i gave up my power so i could sleep." he tries to cut himself off on the last word, it becoming nothing more than a whisper.

downs the drink. pours another.

"the school is closed. i can't help your twins."

"charles. i don't know how to take care of children," erik insists.

"so you want me to take care of them for you?" he snaps, "i'm in no state to care for children."

"clearly," erik finally acknowledges it, "you aren't caring for yourself. why?"

as soon as he says it, he regrets it. betrayal and anger streak across charles' face. he tosses the drink at erik, soaking him in the thick bourbon until he smells as as bad as charles' breath.

"fuck off," charles hisses, "get out of my house."

he gets up fiercely, letting the glass roll along the carpet, forgotten. charles throws open the door to the study. erik only has moments to grab charles by the wrist to drag him back.

"let go of me!"

erik pulls him close, staring at the death of those crystalline eyes. they are drained of their life. he is staring at a phantom of his closest friend.

"what has happened to you?"

charles actually laughs, loud and broken, "you."

"i regret what happened to you. i would do anything to undo it," erik said, not trying to plead, just trying to be honest.

"this has nothing to do with that."

"i don't understand!" snaps erik, growing frustrated, "if you don't forgive me, fine, but—"

"you abandoned me!" charles practically roars, "you took her and you abandoned me!"

"and where have you been?!" erik grabs him by both shoulders, metal knick knacks flying, the house's metal shaking, "our people are being hunted and you abandoned us! to what? give up everything?"

how can he describe that riptide is missing? he is not someone that charles knew beyond a name. all he had been to charles was an enemy. erik had sent him on a mission to investigate any hidden mutants in the government when he'd disappeared overnight.

while he was the only member of erik's brotherhood that had gone missing, emma had found that he was hardly the only one that had gone MIA since their reveal on the beach.

and through it all charles was not at his side. a hole was left next to erik, one mystique could not fill in the way it needed to be. they both knew it. they were not the merging labyrinth he and charles made. mystique was an excellent right hand, but she was not charles.

"we were supposed to do this together," charles replies.

"you gave that up. you chose to side with them."

charles' nose wrinkles as he glares, cruel, mirthless smile breaking through his face, "you didn't leave me a choice."

"there is always a choice," erik huffs.

"not with you," charles replies, "you accept your way or nothing. which means i'll be strong armed into caring for your children while you run off elsewhere."

"i'm worried about my children's safety with me but i don't want to abandon them."

charles shoves him away, "but you will won't you?" his voice is tired and cruel, "just like everyone else who loves you."

erik stands stunned while charles storms off. never in his life had he heard such cruelty from charles. it was as bad as a knife to his heart. there was something broken in his charles. the brilliant man he knew was fading into a monster.

he goes to the kitchen where the kids are enjoying a feast of milk and chocolate chip cookies. briefly, erik wonders if magda had them eating kosher, realizing he doesn't know. they're old enough to tell him or hank. he can question them on it later.

hank looks up at erik, "didn't go well?"

"an understatement."

hank sighs as he pulls over a washrag and hands it to pietro who's fingers are a chocolate mess, "i'll set you guys up in some rooms."

"charles made it pretty clear i'm unwanted," erik replies ruefully.

"but your kids need this place," hank says and picks up a cookie, "these were snickerdoodle when i bought them."

"wanda," erik sighs. does his daughter have one power or many?

"i wanted chocolate chip!"

pietro and wanda are borderline conjoined at the hip so erik and hank set them up in the room next to the one erik plans to take. the one charles had given to him before. variously through the sleepless night, he hears shuffling around the house. part of him is tempted to get up and stop whatever charles is doing, but he can't bring himself to.

does he abandon all the people who ever loved him?

erik rolls over, hand clutching the pillow. part of him can't help but think of charles' study, trashed to high heaven. he knows he should sleep, but instead he gets up and traipses to the study.

the rest of his night is spent putting the books and knick knacks back into some semblance of order. he cleans the used glasses and puts the liquor away. part of him is tempted to crunch the handles to destroy any access to it, but he's already made himself unwelcome. the last thing he wants is to jeopardize his children's ability to stay here.

eventually, he crawls back into bed only for pietro to join him a few minutes later. he puts an arm around the boy, who is trying not to sniffle.

"nightmare?"

"you weren't here earlier. i thought you left us," pietro admits bitterly.

erik feels part of his heart break, "i will never leave you. i promise."

"don't make promises you can't keep."

"i don't."

pietro burrows his head into erik's chest, "the drunk guy said you left him."

erik sighs, "so you were running to eavesdrop every time hank's back was turned?"

"maybe," the little speedster mutters.

erik presses a kiss to his head. he is only guessing at what he's supposed to be doing. he is all these two darling children have in the world now. the only thing he can hope is to show them the same love his own parents had given to him. whether that love remained inside his jaded heart or just in the confines of his feeble memories remains to be seen.

"i'll let it slide this once, but it's impolite."

"you sound like mom."

"good," erik replies with no amount of amusement.

"…you left her too."

erik runs a hand over his son's head, letting the soft white hair muss beneath his fingers, "your mother and i parted…" amicably would be the wrong word, "understanding each other. charles and i— that was different. and you and wanda? you are my children. had i known you existed nothing would have kept me from you."

pietro snorts dismissively, "yeah, right."

erik sighs, "believe me or not, it's your choice." this boy is smart mouthed and too witty for his own good, but he is far more jaded than he lets on as well. life has already hurt him so he has clearly decided to hurt life back. such a young fighter… erik's heart aches.

[faellain]

Had to make a meme to describe me currently

[faellain]

Faellain AU Collection

STAR WARS AUS

The Eldritch Solarpunk Isekai (Rexwalker, Codywan, Fantasy adjacent au)

X-MEN AUS

The Accidental Baby Trap Incident (Cherik, post-FC au)

TRANSFORMERS AUS

[faellain]

The Accidental Baby Trap Incident

Summary: About four years after the events of First Class, Erik arrives at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters with two little twins who he didn't know existed. Thinking he doesn't know what to do, he runs to Charles, not knowing the state his old friend is in.

Snippet 1

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erik's chest is heaving as he arrives at the door step almost stumbling to the already in need of a clean mansion. he frowns. charles had been so fastidious about keeping the place clean once they arrived. perhaps he wasn't home.

one of the children, the whitish-silver haired one- oh, yes, pietro that was it, tugs on his sleeve, "is this an orphanage?" the names of these children still didn't seem real to him. everything felt like a nightmare.

"it's a school," he corrects, "an old friend of mind runs it."

"is it a boarding school?" the girl (wanda, he reminds himself, wanda. his daughter. not just a girl. not just any child.) asks.

"of a sort," he replies and knocks again, louder this time, tempted to just throw open the door.

pietro stamps his foot, "you're gonna leave us here aren't you?" before erik can respond, his young son slams his heel on erik's toes, "fucker!"

erik hisses, "pietro-"

"peter. i don't like pietro. it's a stupid name!"

pietro had been the name he picked out when magda had once teased the idea of having children. it had been his grandfather's name. wanda was the once she had chosen, a name she had always been fond of since she was a girl. now those children were real and one was yelling at him.

erik begins to raise his voice again when the door cracks open. from the crack, he sees hank's eyes and nose peak out. a second later, he's opened the door a bit more, keeping his body between the inside and erik.

"what are you doing here?" he snaps, "who are they?"

"why aren't you blue?" erik asks, genuinely, "how did you reverse-?"

"i'm asking the questions," hank growls and erik watches a ripple of blue skin and yellow eyes appear. ah. not so reversed then.

"i need to see charles," erik explains, "to talk about them."

"there's no school. charles closed it. he can't help them," hank replies, "go somewhere else."

"hank, they're my children."

hank blinks in surprise and looks at the two of them, pietro trying desperately to tug away from his father's hold on his wrist while wanda stands next to him with her chin high. he sighs, "what do you expect charles to do?"

"i- i don't know," he admits, hating the glare pietro gave him at the words, "their mother is gone. i don't know how to raise children. i didn't know where else to go."

hanks shakes his head, "charles won't be of any help."

At that exact moment, pietro decides to vibrate his hand so fast, he burns erik's palm causing him to hiss and let go. normally, he's prepared for this trick. it's one of his son's favorites . being caught up in the conversation with hank took just enough attention away from erik to not prepare himself for the burn.

his son is about to bolt when wanda placidly says, "i've got him."

with a single lift of her hand, pietro freezes and falls face first in the grass, wriggling there like an earthworm. wanda was in an agreeable mood then. that was good. hank stared at them with a slightly stunned expression. erik gave him a withering look.

finally, he steps aside, "you're not gonna like what you see." a pit of dread grows in erik's stomach as he picks up pietro like an american football to carry him inside.

american football... he remembers better days. he remembers sean and alex always teasing him for calling it that. for calling "soccer" any number of colorful variants of football: football, piłka nożna, fussball. it was almost a game in it of itself. this place had far too many tainted memories.

"is he in his study?" he asks.

"he's barely gone in there in over a year. he's probably in his bedroom."

"is he asleep? it's two in the afternoon." charles only slept in when he was hungover. and it was tuesday.

"i don't know," hank shrugs, activating no small amount of annoyance.

"well if he isn't alseep, then he would know i'm here by now. he probably needs help," erik tries not to wince, memories of the beach still fresh as he recalls pulling the bullet out of charles' spine, "go fetch him."

hank gives him a tired glance that's partially pity and partially screaming, i'm not a butler.

"hank?" he hears the call from upstairs, "is someone here?"

hank winces as erik immediately bounds up the stairs with only a terse 'wait' to his children. both promptly ignore him, the boy zipping to catch up and the girl bounding along as best she could. he sighs, rushing after them. maybe he can bribe them with cookies he bought. they're just from the grocery store bakery, but kids hardly cared about such things.

erik flings open charles' door, feeling like a man possessed. charles was so close. he could fix this— or at least help erik. this man adored children far more than he ever could. not to mention, his old friend lived a much safer life. he could only go so long ignoring contacts from azazel, emma, and mystique before they came to investigate his sudden no-contact. charles always had answers. charles had started a school. charles—

looks like a mess.

the charles of erik's mind, when not the nightmare of a man in pain on a beach, was polished and coiffed to perfection. his fluffy hair was always styled, always dressed to the casual nines (or just the nines), oceanic blue eyes brightened by his clothes, two perfect ruddy lips that dipped into a heart shape at the top.

this was not the charles of his mind. before him stands a haggard man, eyes dull, lips pale, wearing nothing more than dirty sweats and a dirtier robe. he smells, reeks even. days old sweat, vomit, and the distinct, overbearing scent of alcohol wafts off charles. his hair hangs long in greasy strands. those pale lips quiver.

"charles?"

and then he is being punched. faster than he can comprehend, a fist connects with his cheek, sending him careening back into the wall until he hit it. unable to get his balance, he falls rather unceremoniously onto his ass, grasping at his chin. pietro’s chorus of mocking laughter shrieks directly into his ear.

"he got decked!!!" the child squeals in delight, "good hit!"

erik rubs his chin, "pietro, i told you to wait."

"you're not the boss of me."

"i," erik grimaces as he tries to ease his aching jaw. he didn't know charles could punch that hard. by the sight of charles shaking his hand out, he suspects charles didn't either, "i very much am."

"you shouldn't be here," snarls charles but his attention is clearly caught by pietro who is rocking back and forth on his heels.

"good to see you too, old friend," erik grunts out and then watches as charles steps towards and bends get a better look at pietro, "and walking."

charles snaps his head toward him, glaring, "no thanks to you."

truer words had never been spoken. erik attempts to brace himself against the wall. all his thoughts jumble in his mind worse than normal, fighting a brain fog from charles' outburst.

"papa!"

wanda's little hands clutch his arm as she tries with futility to help him up. a very agreeable mood then. good. keeping wanda agreeable was top priority. her eyes narrow at charles, though, which make erik cup her face gently.

"i'm fine. my friend was just surprised to see me," erik assures her. red sparks at her clenched fists, "wanda, deep breaths."

his daughter nods and does so, with no small amount of panic on erik's part. this is why he needed charles. he was a calm in a storm. usually.

hank finally catches up to them, "why don't you two come with me to the kitchen to get some cookies and leave your dad and professor xavier to talk?"

"cookies?" asks pietro before taking off, leaving both charles' and wanda's hair swinging in the breeze he left.

hank sighes and looks to wanda. wanda looks instead to erik with big pleading eyes. he nods at her as she moves, taking hank's hand, smiling at him.

"what kind of cookies?" she asks, rather sweetly as hank leads her down to the kitchen.

erik looks at charles, "we need to talk."

"my study, then."

[faellain]

from ml.books

[faellain]

Teuta Matoshi ‘Yellow’ Haute Couture Gowns

[faellain]

+ 0952 by Ólafur Arnalds (archive moodboard for @voltaiire)

[faellain]

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂