"You don't have to look so pleased," Charles says, piling the daggers in a corner.
"It's nice to not be the only one who can't control himself," Erik says, and he sounds like he's making a joke, but of course being out of control would be particularly unpleasant for Erik. Of course.
"This must be hard for you," Charles says, because he does try to say what he's thinking when it's reasonably safe to do so, in order to be more fair to people. Also because Raven yells at him when he doesn't. Little sisters are so inconvenient sometimes.
Erik laughs, short and sharp. "You could say that."
They clean up in quiet.
Later, when Charles has made them both tea and knocked over the tea tin (metal, he forgot) and accidentally floated the kettle into the wall, Erik clears his throat.
"You always know too much," he says, returning to their earlier conversation. "So you--you use that. When you need to."
Charles considers the question. "Yes," he says after a while. In our meetings with the CIA, I did. When you and I met for the first time, I did."
"The satellite," Erik says, and Charles nods.
"But you knew about that," he says, which perhaps doesn't seem like a distinction that matters, but it's a crucial one for him.
"I did," Erik says. "I worry about things you do without me noticing," he admits then, and Charles' fingers clench around his teacup.
"I wouldn't," he says, and then stops. "It would be easy, I won't deny that, but I--don't think I would remain myself, if I did, and you wouldn't be you."
"And is that such an important distinction to make?" Erik is pale. "I haven't always liked being myself, you know."
Charles knows Erik doesn't mean it the way it sounds, knows exactly what the tenor of Erik fretting about Charles' powers sounds like, but he can't keep his reaction out of his face (or his thoughts). "It's the most important thing," he says. "You are--I wish you hadn't lived through all the things that have hurt you so badly, dear friend, but I wouldn't change who you are."
Erik makes a helpless noise and reaches out for Charles and Charles can feel his mind reaching out as well. He scrambles out of his seat and backs away.
"I can't," he says. "Dear, dear friend, I can't."
"Why the hell not?" Erik says. "It's not more wrong than our mutations."
"No, no," Charles has read enough minds to know that desire and love cannot be seen as wrong (even though they are anathema to society at large--oh, how frustrating fear is), but he has a very specific concern right now. "Not when I don't know you're not just getting it from me." Filtering is hard, especially at first, which made for a quite confusing puberty.
Erik blinks. "You must not have read my mind very closely, then, back when you could," he says, and his voice is so, so kind. Charles blinks again and Erik is right in front of him, curving a hand around his cheek. "Tell me what I'm thinking," he says, and kisses him.
PART 3. (HA I FOUND A FINISHING POINT. BECAUSE THIS COULD HAVE GOTTEN INCREDIBLY LONG...)
"You don't have to look so pleased," Charles says, piling the daggers in a corner.
"It's nice to not be the only one who can't control himself," Erik says, and he sounds like he's making a joke, but of course being out of control would be particularly unpleasant for Erik. Of course.
"This must be hard for you," Charles says, because he does try to say what he's thinking when it's reasonably safe to do so, in order to be more fair to people. Also because Raven yells at him when he doesn't. Little sisters are so inconvenient sometimes.
Erik laughs, short and sharp. "You could say that."
They clean up in quiet.
Later, when Charles has made them both tea and knocked over the tea tin (metal, he forgot) and accidentally floated the kettle into the wall, Erik clears his throat.
"You always know too much," he says, returning to their earlier conversation. "So you--you use that. When you need to."
Charles considers the question. "Yes," he says after a while. In our meetings with the CIA, I did. When you and I met for the first time, I did."
"The satellite," Erik says, and Charles nods.
"But you knew about that," he says, which perhaps doesn't seem like a distinction that matters, but it's a crucial one for him.
"I did," Erik says. "I worry about things you do without me noticing," he admits then, and Charles' fingers clench around his teacup.
"I wouldn't," he says, and then stops. "It would be easy, I won't deny that, but I--don't think I would remain myself, if I did, and you wouldn't be you."
"And is that such an important distinction to make?" Erik is pale. "I haven't always liked being myself, you know."
Charles knows Erik doesn't mean it the way it sounds, knows exactly what the tenor of Erik fretting about Charles' powers sounds like, but he can't keep his reaction out of his face (or his thoughts). "It's the most important thing," he says. "You are--I wish you hadn't lived through all the things that have hurt you so badly, dear friend, but I wouldn't change who you are."
Erik makes a helpless noise and reaches out for Charles and Charles can feel his mind reaching out as well. He scrambles out of his seat and backs away.
"I can't," he says. "Dear, dear friend, I can't."
"Why the hell not?" Erik says. "It's not more wrong than our mutations."
"No, no," Charles has read enough minds to know that desire and love cannot be seen as wrong (even though they are anathema to society at large--oh, how frustrating fear is), but he has a very specific concern right now. "Not when I don't know you're not just getting it from me." Filtering is hard, especially at first, which made for a quite confusing puberty.
Erik blinks. "You must not have read my mind very closely, then, back when you could," he says, and his voice is so, so kind. Charles blinks again and Erik is right in front of him, curving a hand around his cheek. "Tell me what I'm thinking," he says, and kisses him.