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schmericaHappy New Year, all! Apparently I'm slipping in one more thing into the 2011 writing column, with just an hour to spare. Okay, then. I blame ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pocky_slash? For ... some reason.
cleaning the windows between us
by Pearl-o
Charles/Erik. ~1000 words. Warning for past (offscreen, non-explicit) death of a child.
This takes place in the same universe as Sometimes Rain That's Needed Falls and won't be meaningful if you haven't read that story.
Summary: "Got a card in the mail," Charles says. "I don't know who it's from." Charles learns something new about Erik's past.
*****
The card doesn't arrive until early January. It's not as though they received a huge number of holiday cards, but the ones that did come were all in before Christmas. Charles isn't expecting another one, mixed in along the credit card offers and electric bill when he gets the mail.
Charles doesn't recognize the name on the envelope. It's sent from somewhere in Germany - he hadn't been aware Erik still kept in touch with any friends from over there. "Do we know anybody named Maximoff?" he calls up the stairs, but Erik doesn't answer.
Charles shrugs and opens the card himself. It's a fairly generic winteresque card, but there's a short note written on the inside. In German, of course, so he has no idea what it says. There's a picture, too, a woman and man and two small children, smiling together and posing in bright sweaters.
He's still squinting at it when Erik comes down the stairs. He's dressed in his sweats and a t-shirt, towel still around his neck. Charles doesn't resist the urge to catch him in the kitchen doorway and wrap himself around him, burying his nose in Erik's neck. There's something about Erik straight from the shower, damp and warm and still smelling of clean fresh soap, that gets to Charles every time.
Erik ruffles his hand through Charles's hair, holding him there for a minute, before he presses a kiss to Charles's forehead and pulls away. He gets a glass from the counter, opens the fridge to take out and pour the orange juice. Charles throws the mail down on the counter next to him while Erik takes a deep swallow.
"Got a card in the mail," Charles says. "I don't know who it's from."
Erik wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks down at the papers. "Mm," he says. "Magda." He picks up the card, scans through it quickly, and sets it back down again.
"Who's Magda?" Charles says. "I've never heard you mention her."
Erik looks suddenly surprised at that, a little alarmed as his eyes flash over to Charles's. "Magda. My ex-wife."
Charles's heart skips a beat. "Oh," he manages to say, after a minute. He clears his throat, folding his arms against his chest. "Right, of course."
Erik is biting at his lip. "Charles. I've told you about my marriage before."
"Actually," Charles says, very carefully, "I think you'll find you haven't, Erik. I think you'll find that's never once come up. I agree it does sound fairly unlikely, considering we've been living together for six months, but it's the truth."
Erik says, "Let's sit down."
Charles has known from the beginning that Erik's a private person, that he doesn't give things out a lot. And that's been okay, because Charles is patient, willing to wait until Erik is ready to share. Things means more that way, anyway. But it's still a shock to know how much more there was that he wasn't even aware he was missing.
It's odd, watching Erik look this awkward. Charles isn't used to it, not at all; Erik always seems to inhabit his skin so comfortably. They sit down on the couch, and immediately, Erik pops back up to his feet, disappears from the room just to come back a moment later, holding this laptop.
"This is - I suppose this is easiest," Erik says, setting the computer down on the coffee table in front of them. The wallpaper of his desktop is a picture of Charles from last summer, lying on his beach towel next to the pool, stretched out and wearing his sunglasses. Charles doesn't like the picture much, but he likes that Erik does like it, let alone enough to want to see it all the time.
Erik clicks through a few folders, and then another picture opens on the screen. There's Erik, sitting next to the woman from the card photo, and he's holding a toddler on his lap.
The first thought that comes into Charles's head is: "You look so young."
"I was twenty-one. Younger than you are now," Erik says. He doesn't look over at Charles. "That was our first apartment. It was a terrible ruin. This was taken on Magda's birthday." He falls silent, still staring at the picture.
After a minute, Charles says, "And the baby?"
"Her name was Anya," Erik says, and Charles sort of wishes he hadn't asked, that the card had never come, because he doesn't want to hear Erik's voice sound like that, doesn't want to see the look he can't name in Erik's eyes.
Charles curls up in on himself, tucking his hands under his legs. "Erik-"
"We were only nineteen when we got pregnant," Erik says. "We got married before the baby came. We were just kids, really. But she was perfect, Charles, she was- it made everything worth it."
Erik clicks the X in the right hand corner of the screen, and the picture disappears. "She was four when she got sick. She died a week before she was going to turn six. I took the job in the States a few months later. Magda stayed in Germany." He finally looks over at Charles now. The corner of his mouth is curved up into something that's not a smile. "Now you know that story. Is there anything else you want to know?"
Charles bites at his thumbnail. "I wasn't trying to pry, Erik, I didn't mean-"
Erik interrupts him, shaking his head. "Charles... I know I don't talk about my past much. I love you - I'm sharing my life with you. You have a right to know things."
There's nothing but sincerity in Erik's voice, and Charles can't say he doesn't appreciate all of the words. But the strain on Erik's face still makes him ache, deep inside. It's unfair. All he wants - all he wants is for Erik to be happy, and if Charles can't do that for him, he's not sure what use he is at all.
"It's all right," Charles murmurs, reaching out to lay his hand on Erik's cheek. "I'll figure it all out eventually."
pocky_slash? For ... some reason.cleaning the windows between us
by Pearl-o
Charles/Erik. ~1000 words. Warning for past (offscreen, non-explicit) death of a child.
This takes place in the same universe as Sometimes Rain That's Needed Falls and won't be meaningful if you haven't read that story.
Summary: "Got a card in the mail," Charles says. "I don't know who it's from." Charles learns something new about Erik's past.
*****
The card doesn't arrive until early January. It's not as though they received a huge number of holiday cards, but the ones that did come were all in before Christmas. Charles isn't expecting another one, mixed in along the credit card offers and electric bill when he gets the mail.
Charles doesn't recognize the name on the envelope. It's sent from somewhere in Germany - he hadn't been aware Erik still kept in touch with any friends from over there. "Do we know anybody named Maximoff?" he calls up the stairs, but Erik doesn't answer.
Charles shrugs and opens the card himself. It's a fairly generic winteresque card, but there's a short note written on the inside. In German, of course, so he has no idea what it says. There's a picture, too, a woman and man and two small children, smiling together and posing in bright sweaters.
He's still squinting at it when Erik comes down the stairs. He's dressed in his sweats and a t-shirt, towel still around his neck. Charles doesn't resist the urge to catch him in the kitchen doorway and wrap himself around him, burying his nose in Erik's neck. There's something about Erik straight from the shower, damp and warm and still smelling of clean fresh soap, that gets to Charles every time.
Erik ruffles his hand through Charles's hair, holding him there for a minute, before he presses a kiss to Charles's forehead and pulls away. He gets a glass from the counter, opens the fridge to take out and pour the orange juice. Charles throws the mail down on the counter next to him while Erik takes a deep swallow.
"Got a card in the mail," Charles says. "I don't know who it's from."
Erik wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks down at the papers. "Mm," he says. "Magda." He picks up the card, scans through it quickly, and sets it back down again.
"Who's Magda?" Charles says. "I've never heard you mention her."
Erik looks suddenly surprised at that, a little alarmed as his eyes flash over to Charles's. "Magda. My ex-wife."
Charles's heart skips a beat. "Oh," he manages to say, after a minute. He clears his throat, folding his arms against his chest. "Right, of course."
Erik is biting at his lip. "Charles. I've told you about my marriage before."
"Actually," Charles says, very carefully, "I think you'll find you haven't, Erik. I think you'll find that's never once come up. I agree it does sound fairly unlikely, considering we've been living together for six months, but it's the truth."
Erik says, "Let's sit down."
Charles has known from the beginning that Erik's a private person, that he doesn't give things out a lot. And that's been okay, because Charles is patient, willing to wait until Erik is ready to share. Things means more that way, anyway. But it's still a shock to know how much more there was that he wasn't even aware he was missing.
It's odd, watching Erik look this awkward. Charles isn't used to it, not at all; Erik always seems to inhabit his skin so comfortably. They sit down on the couch, and immediately, Erik pops back up to his feet, disappears from the room just to come back a moment later, holding this laptop.
"This is - I suppose this is easiest," Erik says, setting the computer down on the coffee table in front of them. The wallpaper of his desktop is a picture of Charles from last summer, lying on his beach towel next to the pool, stretched out and wearing his sunglasses. Charles doesn't like the picture much, but he likes that Erik does like it, let alone enough to want to see it all the time.
Erik clicks through a few folders, and then another picture opens on the screen. There's Erik, sitting next to the woman from the card photo, and he's holding a toddler on his lap.
The first thought that comes into Charles's head is: "You look so young."
"I was twenty-one. Younger than you are now," Erik says. He doesn't look over at Charles. "That was our first apartment. It was a terrible ruin. This was taken on Magda's birthday." He falls silent, still staring at the picture.
After a minute, Charles says, "And the baby?"
"Her name was Anya," Erik says, and Charles sort of wishes he hadn't asked, that the card had never come, because he doesn't want to hear Erik's voice sound like that, doesn't want to see the look he can't name in Erik's eyes.
Charles curls up in on himself, tucking his hands under his legs. "Erik-"
"We were only nineteen when we got pregnant," Erik says. "We got married before the baby came. We were just kids, really. But she was perfect, Charles, she was- it made everything worth it."
Erik clicks the X in the right hand corner of the screen, and the picture disappears. "She was four when she got sick. She died a week before she was going to turn six. I took the job in the States a few months later. Magda stayed in Germany." He finally looks over at Charles now. The corner of his mouth is curved up into something that's not a smile. "Now you know that story. Is there anything else you want to know?"
Charles bites at his thumbnail. "I wasn't trying to pry, Erik, I didn't mean-"
Erik interrupts him, shaking his head. "Charles... I know I don't talk about my past much. I love you - I'm sharing my life with you. You have a right to know things."
There's nothing but sincerity in Erik's voice, and Charles can't say he doesn't appreciate all of the words. But the strain on Erik's face still makes him ache, deep inside. It's unfair. All he wants - all he wants is for Erik to be happy, and if Charles can't do that for him, he's not sure what use he is at all.
"It's all right," Charles murmurs, reaching out to lay his hand on Erik's cheek. "I'll figure it all out eventually."
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