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schmericaThe Company You Keep
by Pearl-o
X-men: First Class. Erik/Charles, PG, ~800 words. Much thanks topocky_slash for looking this over.
Forcesare, because she gives good prompts.
Summary: Erik gets hit on, and Charles oversteps his bounds.
*****
By the time Erik makes it out of the bar, Charles is already halfway down the block. He's walking quickly, hands in his pockets, his chin tilted down towards his chest. Erik's legs are longer than his, though, and it only takes a few brief strides to catch up with him.
He grabs Charles's shoulder and pulls him back, forcing Charles to stop and turn towards him. The streetlight illuminates Charles's face in its sallow glow. He's scowling, looking as angry as Erik feels.
"What the hell was that?" Erik says. He can hear the tremble in his voice.
Charles twists, shaking Erik's hand off of him, and taking a step back, out of reach. "I'm sorry," he says, sounding anything but. "Did I ruin your night?"
"What right do you have to make any sort of decisions for me?" Erik says.
Charles lifts one eyebrow in a sardonic expression. "I'm sorry, I didn't think she was exactly your type. Was I wrong?" Without waiting for Erik's answer, he raises his fingers to his temple in the gesture Erik's come to find so familiar. "If you do want to sleep with her, she's still in the bar. A little put-out by your rude friend, perhaps, but she won't hold it against you. My goodness, Erik, you should hear the things she'd let you do to her. Maybe you should go back to her. I can't imagine a good lay wouldn't do your personality some favors-"
"Shut up," Erik hisses, and Charles falls silent, letting his hand drop limply back to his side. His eyes are wide, their most uncanny blue, and they're fixed unwaveringly on Erik's own eyes. Erik's not used to hearing Charles be purposely vicious; from what he's seen the last months, Charles's cruelties are almost always inadvertant. Often Charles doesn't even seem to notice.
Erik works his jaw for a moment before he manages to speak again. "What difference could it possibly make to you who occupies my bed?" he says, keeping his voice low and even, letting the words come out slow and deliberate. "You've made it clear enough that you have no interest in it yourself."
Charles sucks in a breath and looks away, towards the empty street; there's no one outside this evening but the two of them . There's a flush rising on his cheeks; how much of it is embarrassment, anger, the chill of the night, Erik couldn't say.
He had been sure the interest he had in Charles was returned. Charles was not a subtle person; the way he looked at Erik, the way he spoke to Erik, the way his entire body turned in Erik's direction when they were in the same room. Erik had been certain he was reading the signs correctly - and yet when he broached the topic, Charles had turned him down, the words from his mouth jumbling over each other in his hurry to get them out. He was flattered, but it wouldn't be a good idea; the mission, the government, their friendship, excuse after excuse as his eyes searched for something in Erik's expression, though Erik had no idea what.
"You're right," Charles says finally, breaking the silence. He still doesn't look in Erik's direction. "You're absolutely right. Your private affairs are no business of mine."
Erik feels angry, still, but suddenly more than anything else, he feels tired. He rubs his hand across his face and lets out a sigh.
"Look at me, Charles."
Charles turns halfway toward him, lifting his face to Erik's view. He's molded his expression into a perfect blank, giving almost nothing away, but even after just these few weeks together, Erik knows him too well not to see through it.
You're not a very good liar, Charles, Erik thinks, and he can't tell how much of what he is feeling is annoyance and how much is affection.
Charles's arms are folded in front of him, hugging himself tightly. He says stiffly, "I don't sleep with people I care about."
Erik shakes his head.
He says, "Go back to the motel. I'm going to have another drink or two before I call it a night. I'll see you back in the room." After a moment, he adds, "Alone."
Charles's mouth shifts, as if he's trying out the shapes of different words before rejecting them. Finally he says, "All right. Good night, Erik."
"Good night," Erik says, and he watches Charles walk off into the darkness between the streetlights. He waits until Charles has turned the corner, completely out of sight, and then he turns around and walks back to the bar.
He can almost taste his next beer already.
by Pearl-o
X-men: First Class. Erik/Charles, PG, ~800 words. Much thanks to
pocky_slash for looking this over.For
cesare, because she gives good prompts.Summary: Erik gets hit on, and Charles oversteps his bounds.
*****
By the time Erik makes it out of the bar, Charles is already halfway down the block. He's walking quickly, hands in his pockets, his chin tilted down towards his chest. Erik's legs are longer than his, though, and it only takes a few brief strides to catch up with him.
He grabs Charles's shoulder and pulls him back, forcing Charles to stop and turn towards him. The streetlight illuminates Charles's face in its sallow glow. He's scowling, looking as angry as Erik feels.
"What the hell was that?" Erik says. He can hear the tremble in his voice.
Charles twists, shaking Erik's hand off of him, and taking a step back, out of reach. "I'm sorry," he says, sounding anything but. "Did I ruin your night?"
"What right do you have to make any sort of decisions for me?" Erik says.
Charles lifts one eyebrow in a sardonic expression. "I'm sorry, I didn't think she was exactly your type. Was I wrong?" Without waiting for Erik's answer, he raises his fingers to his temple in the gesture Erik's come to find so familiar. "If you do want to sleep with her, she's still in the bar. A little put-out by your rude friend, perhaps, but she won't hold it against you. My goodness, Erik, you should hear the things she'd let you do to her. Maybe you should go back to her. I can't imagine a good lay wouldn't do your personality some favors-"
"Shut up," Erik hisses, and Charles falls silent, letting his hand drop limply back to his side. His eyes are wide, their most uncanny blue, and they're fixed unwaveringly on Erik's own eyes. Erik's not used to hearing Charles be purposely vicious; from what he's seen the last months, Charles's cruelties are almost always inadvertant. Often Charles doesn't even seem to notice.
Erik works his jaw for a moment before he manages to speak again. "What difference could it possibly make to you who occupies my bed?" he says, keeping his voice low and even, letting the words come out slow and deliberate. "You've made it clear enough that you have no interest in it yourself."
Charles sucks in a breath and looks away, towards the empty street; there's no one outside this evening but the two of them . There's a flush rising on his cheeks; how much of it is embarrassment, anger, the chill of the night, Erik couldn't say.
He had been sure the interest he had in Charles was returned. Charles was not a subtle person; the way he looked at Erik, the way he spoke to Erik, the way his entire body turned in Erik's direction when they were in the same room. Erik had been certain he was reading the signs correctly - and yet when he broached the topic, Charles had turned him down, the words from his mouth jumbling over each other in his hurry to get them out. He was flattered, but it wouldn't be a good idea; the mission, the government, their friendship, excuse after excuse as his eyes searched for something in Erik's expression, though Erik had no idea what.
"You're right," Charles says finally, breaking the silence. He still doesn't look in Erik's direction. "You're absolutely right. Your private affairs are no business of mine."
Erik feels angry, still, but suddenly more than anything else, he feels tired. He rubs his hand across his face and lets out a sigh.
"Look at me, Charles."
Charles turns halfway toward him, lifting his face to Erik's view. He's molded his expression into a perfect blank, giving almost nothing away, but even after just these few weeks together, Erik knows him too well not to see through it.
You're not a very good liar, Charles, Erik thinks, and he can't tell how much of what he is feeling is annoyance and how much is affection.
Charles's arms are folded in front of him, hugging himself tightly. He says stiffly, "I don't sleep with people I care about."
Erik shakes his head.
He says, "Go back to the motel. I'm going to have another drink or two before I call it a night. I'll see you back in the room." After a moment, he adds, "Alone."
Charles's mouth shifts, as if he's trying out the shapes of different words before rejecting them. Finally he says, "All right. Good night, Erik."
"Good night," Erik says, and he watches Charles walk off into the darkness between the streetlights. He waits until Charles has turned the corner, completely out of sight, and then he turns around and walks back to the bar.
He can almost taste his next beer already.
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