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“You’re not feeling too cold, are you? I could get another throw from the living room if you wanted.”
“Love you too, darling,” Charles says absentmindedly, eliciting a snort from Erik. The sight of Charles on his bed, reading The Selfish Gene while running his hand through Erik’s hair fills him with more joy than it should.
When Charles catches Erik staring at him, he looks down. His messy hair falls into his face despite him trying to push it back repeatedly, and Erik loves the way his glasses sit on his nose, big and black and ridiculous, but not out of place on him. Even if Charles complains about how old he looks with them.
Charles smiles bashfully. I heard you.
Erik is always impressed by how strong Charles’ telepathy is, able to pick up even the slightest shifts in someone’s mood. There are times when Erik doesn’t want Charles seeing everything that goes on in his head, but for the most part, he loves the feeling of Charles occupying a corner of his mind — like a beacon of comfort.
“You haven’t forgotten Saturday, right?”
Charles tilts his head questioningly.
“Mama’s invited us over for lunch.”
The warm feeling in the corner of his mind dims out instantly, like it’s been doused by a bucket of cold water. Charles doesn’t speak for several moments.
“Charles?”
“I…I might have to go the lab this Saturday to check up on our experiment. Hank’s not well, you know.”
Which would be a shame, except Erik is vaguely aware of Charles’ schedule for the week and is certain Charles doesn’t have anything on for Saturday. He sits up from his place at Charles’ side and looks at him.
“Is something wrong? You said you’d be free.”
“I…I did, but…I don’t know.”
“You— fine. I know Hank’s ill, but there’s no deadline for finishing it. Yet. And even if there was, you told me Kitty would run behind you to get it done.”
Charles opens his mouth as if to say something but backs down. Then says, “I’m— nervous about this experiment, Erik. It counts for quite a bit of our grade, and I need it to be perfect before we submit it.”
Erik runs a hand down his back. “I know that, Charles. But Mama’s been wanting to meet you for a while now. Does this— do you not want to meet her?”
Charles says nothing.
Erik shifts to sit up properly and gently turns Charles’ face towards him. “What’s the matter, Liebe?”
Charles shakes his head. “I…I can’t,” he whispers.
Can’t. Not don’t want to. “What do you mean?”
“Can we not talk about this right now, Erik?”
Erik pauses for a moment. Charles never uses his name in that tone unless he’s really upset about something.
“Fine,” he says gently. “But we’re not done here, right?”
“No. But I don’t want to talk about this tonight. Please?”
Erik frowns and lets go as Charles takes off his glasses and turns over to his side of the bed. He’s too confused to even be excited by the fact that Charles has claimed a side of Erik’s bed as his own in all the months they’ve been together.
Neither of them says a word as Erik settles down under the covers. It feels odd, not having Charles cuddle up to him even though they’re sleeping in the same bed. Charles is a very tactile person. Erik doesn’t mind it now, especially since Charles told him that having someone to hold helps dim his headaches if his telepathy flares up too much. Eventually, Charles rolls over and fits himself into Erik’s side.
“I’m sorry,” he says into Erik’s shoulder. “I’ll tell you about it soon.”
Erik leans down to kiss Charles’ head. He can wait a while longer.
*
Charles is, to put it frankly, terrible at taking care of himself. Between multiple assignments and research work and going out of his way to meet his friends every week and spending time with Erik, he tends to forget simple things like eating and sleeping. Erik’s lost count of the number of times he’s woken up in the middle of the night to find Charles buried nose deep in one his textbooks. Not that he really minds. Charles always comes back to bed soon after that.
“Does your mother really want to meet me?” Charles asks a few nights later when they’re in his small but homey kitchen, talking about his volunteering hours at the local mutant centre and eating jelly doughnuts Erik’s mother had sent with him when he’d visited her last week.
Erik blinks at the sudden change in topic. “Of course she does, you think Mama would ask about you so frequently if she didn’t want to meet you?”
“…no.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s…” Charles wipes his mouth, leaving behind a tiny bit of jam on the corner of his mouth. Erik resists the urge to wipe it off. “I don’t know what she’s going to think of me.”
“She’s going to love you, Charles. Why wouldn’t she?”
“If I meet her, this— what we are— is going to be real. It’s going to mean something to everyone involved.”
“So you’re saying what we’ve had till now is nothing?” Erik’s joking.
Charles, of course, doesn’t understand. He takes Erik’s arm. “That’s… that’s not what I meant, Erik, and you know it. You’ve met Raven and she likes you, and I’m happy about that. But this is different. This is your mother. Raven’s my sister. I don’t— it’s different. Meeting your mother would mean a lot of things. And I don’t want to think about what I’d feel if she doesn’t like me.”
Erik sets his laptop aside and takes Charles’ other hand. It’s cold, like always. He refuses to part with his old gloves, something about how he’s attached to them. “You sound like you’ve done something terrible that Mama knows about. Have you met her already? Should I be worried?”
“I…I don’t know how to be around anyone’s family,” Charles admits, pulling away roughly and standing up to take his plate to the sink. “My mother never cared much about me. And my father died long before I realized what he meant to me. I don’t know what it’s like to be around someone who cares. What if your mother sees me like a shadow of my own mother? I’m afraid she’s going to look at me and think you deserve better. Or—”
Erik doesn’t raise his voice, but it’s a close thing. His confusion becomes incredulity which gives rise to anger. Not towards his own self, or Charles, but towards everything that’s happened to Charles which has made him think like this.
“What—” he says, pushing his chair aside and walking up to Charles, gripping the counter to ground himself. “Where did that come from?”
Since when has Charles ever been insecure? In the eight months they’ve been together, Charles has never seemed like someone who holds fears as powerful as this. Never has Erik once doubted what Charles means to him, but maybe he’s been a fool to think Charles is all sunshine and rainbows because he's never complained much about anything. Whatever the matter, Charles has to see what he means to Erik, right now.
“Charles,” he says slowly, thinking over his words. He’s good at dry humour and sharp comments and sarcasm, but not when it comes to being sentimental. Or so he’d thought, till he met Charles. He never understood why anyone would want to have their thoughts consumed by just one person, and have their life revolve around that one person only. Erik is glad it’s Charles he feels that way about, and no one else. He wants to push all of his thoughts at Charles, make him see what Erik desperately feels about him every single day and night, but the best way would be to do it with words.
“Do you have any idea of what she thinks of someone I love?”
Charles shakes his head.
“I've been reluctant about serious relationships for most of my life. I never particularly liked the idea of opening myself up to someone. But that was only till I met you. I never wanted anyone in my life the way I want you to be. When she sees you walking in through her door, she’s going to love you. Trust me. There’s no reason for anyone to not like you.”
“You disliked me the moment you saw me and Tony that night,” Charles says, with a small smile on his face.
Erik rolls his eyes. “Knowing you were a friend of Tony Stark didn't really make the strongest impression on me.” He turns serious. “But you’re so…passionate about whatever you do. You’re so cheerful, and even though that annoyed me at first, I wouldn’t have you any other way. You make me smile even when I don’t want to. You listen to me, you argue with me, you've taught me things I wouldn’t have learned myself, and there’s no way Mama’s not going to see what I see in you.”
Erik can tell his words are doing something right, because Charles’ blue eyes look suspiciously cloudy. He’s on a roll now. He’s certain he’s never professed his feelings for Charles this eloquently before, but it’s all the truth. And Charles deserves to know.
“I love you. You know that. And even if Mama doesn’t — which is impossible — I’ll still love you. One evening with her isn’t going to change anything between us.”
Charles looks at him with an expression he can’t place, but it’s a good one. Charles is okay. They’re okay. Charles nods and gives him a smile, weak but genuine. He closes the distance between them and leans against Erik’s chest.
“I love you too, Erik.”
Erik can tell his words mean a lot to Charles. He wraps his arms around Charles’ waist and bends down to kiss his forehead. It’s not long before Charles is too tired to even stand upright.
*
“You’re sure she likes carnations, right?” Charles asks for what he feels is the hundredth time as they stand in front of Erik’s mother’s house.
When he doesn’t get a response, he turns to Erik, who’s eyeing him shamelessly.
“You look really good,” Erik says defensively. I’m sure Mama’s going to love you more than me by the end of today.
Charles sends him the mental equivalent of an eye roll at that thought.
“What are we waiting for?” Erik asks when Charles hesitates to take a step forward.
Charles doesn’t know. He looks at the bouquet in his hands and then to the door.
Erik pushes him forward gently. “She’s not going to chase you away. Go on, ring the bell.”
Charles knows Erik can feel the tension radiating off him like ripples in a pond.
The door opens and they’re greeted by a short, kind-looking woman who has a reassuring smile on her face. “Erik, mein liebe,” she says, stepping forward and cupping his face in her hands. “I’m so glad you made it here.”
“Of course, Mama.” Charles finds it adorable that someone like Erik — silent, stoic Erik — calls his mother Mama. He smiles.
“And you must be Charles,” Erik’s mother says warmly as she looks at him. She looks him up and down and he’s very self-conscious about the small curl of hair that sticks up no matter what he does to keep it down. “I’m so happy to finally meet you.”
“I— you too, Mrs. Lehnsherr. I’m happy to be here.” Strangely, he finds that he means what he says. Erik has her bright grey eyes, he thinks. Mrs. Lehnsherr bypasses his stretched hand and pulls him into a tight hug, tighter than he would have expected from a slight woman like her. He just about manages to save the flowers from being crushed.
“I got these for you,” he says shyly when he pulls away. “Erik told me you love them.”
“That’s because you wouldn’t stop pestering me about them till I let you know,” Erik says.
“You didn’t have to, Charles,” she says softly, looking happy all the same. “Let me put these away. Erik, will you set the plates out? The dishes are ready.”
Erik nods and leads Charles inside after they remove their shoes. When Edie is out of sight, Erik squeezes Charles’ waist briefly. “You alright?”
“I…yeah.” He is. He hasn’t used his telepathy, doesn’t want to glean even the faintest emotion from either of them without using his words, but Edie looks happy to see him. He hopes to keep it that way.
“Good.” Erik lets go.
Charles doesn’t think he’s seen this much food laid out on a table before, or this much food at all, despite the ravenous appetite he racks up at times because of his telepathy. Even Erik looks surprised.
“Mama, don’t you think this is too much for just the three of us? Do you plan on inviting someone else?”
“No, but I plan on making you take leftovers back home. Charles, do you have any preferences? Anything I should have avoided?”
Charles takes a quick look at the dishes laid out on the table. “None at all, Mrs. Lehnsherr. I’m looking forward to lunch.”
She beams at him. “Erik, you sit there. Let Charles sit next to me.”
Charles’ throat seizes for a moment and he turns to Erik, sending across a small help me! but all Erik does is give him a reassuring look. Charles clears his throat and sits down next to Erik’s mother.
She takes a look at him and laughs. “I’m not going to eat you, Charles. Don’t be afraid of me.”
Charles recognizes latkes when he sees them. They’re something of a Sunday morning tradition for both of them if they happen to be spending the day at Erik’s place.
A tradition?
He bites his lip and tries not to say anything stupid as Erik serves something delicious-looking onto his plate.
“Cholent,” Erik says. “Beans and brisket and potatoes. And this is matzo ball soup. I made this for you once, remember?”
“Erik made something for you?” Mrs. Lehnsherr looks genuinely surprised. “My boy only ever cooks for himself. He’s made his own version of my soup, so he tells me.”
“Charles was ill, Mama. He wasn’t eating anything. Aren’t you glad I made him that instead of buying something for him?”
The smile on Mrs. Lehnsherr’s face says it all.
The conversation, the talk he’s been dreading is…pretty alright. Mrs. Lehnsherr asks him about where he studies, what subjects he’s taken, and he’s pleasantly surprised to learn that she’s majored in psychology.
Lunch ends with jelly doughnuts and Charles’ nerves jittering.
He gets up to put the dishes away, but Edie doesn’t let him. “Not in my house, Charles. You’re a guest. Why don’t you wait till Erik finishes up?”
Charles acquiesces and waits in the living room. He sees two pictures above the mantelpiece. One of them is Erik on his graduation day, bright grin lighting up the photo frame, and the other is what seems like a family portrait. The man standing on Mrs. Lehnsherr’s right looks like Erik. They have the same set jaw, the heavy gaze, the straight posture. Erik’s father.
Erik returns a few minutes later with his mother in tow and several boxes of what Charles thinks are leftovers. She had made him promise to take them back, after all. They exchange a few words and Erik kisses her cheek. They’re ready to go, but Erik’s phone chimes with a call. He sets the boxes on the coffee table and looks at Charles.
“I need to take this, just wait a minute?”
I can’t be alone, Charles replies, almost hysterical. Don’t—
You’ll be fine, Charles. I really need to take this.
But—
Mama said she’s not going to eat you, alright?
Charles swallows when Erik shuts the door behind him and it’s just himself and Mrs. Lehnsherr. He doesn’t say a word as she stands next to him, looking up at the same picture he was looking at a few moments ago.
“You know,” she says, voice soft, “Erik’s never brought anyone home till today.”
Charles looks at her in surprise. He knows Erik hadn't been too into the idea of relationships before he met Charles, but had he never brought anyone home?
“Really?” He manages to say.
Edie nods. “I know the few people he’s been with. But whenever I asked him about them, he’d tell me they didn’t work out. Can you imagine how I felt for him, as a mother? And then a few months ago he called me to tell me he was seeing someone. He sounded like something I’d never heard before. He sounded...happy. Then I learned about you. I don't remember seeing him this excited about someone before.”
Charles gapes at her. He hadn’t known.
Edie gives him a knowing smile. “He told me about you. Not everything, mind you, but nearly every call of ours, he’d talk about you. Charles this and Charles that. Something about you dragging him to the park on weekends. Or you taking him along with you to the mutant centre to meet your children. And that you were afraid of meeting me. He asked me not to scare you away. Did I?”
“No,” Charles laughs. “No, Mrs. Lehnsherr. Not at all.” The room seems brighter all of a sudden. Charles doesn’t feel the need to measure his breaths. He feels lighter, almost.
“Good. Because I’ve only wanted the best for my Erik. And from all I’ve heard about you, and after meeting you today, I think you’re every bit as lovely as Erik makes you out to be. I’m glad Erik has you.”
Charles swallows the lump in his throat and forces some words out. “Thank you, Mrs. Lehnsherr.” To have her banish his worries like that with a few words means a lot to him.
“Call me Edie.” She cups his jaw for a moment just as Erik enters the room, running a hand through his hair.
“Done?” He says, and for a moment Charles wonders if he pretended to be busy just to get Charles alone with his mother.
Stark, Erik replies, almost like he’s read Charles’ mind. How the hell did he know we were meeting Mama today?
“I believe so, yes,” Edie says, extending her arms out to Erik. It warms Charles’ heart to see Erik be so affectionate with someone that isn’t him, that someone being his mother. She ruffles his hair before letting go of him.
“You might have to drop by sooner than you think. Mrs. Becker's daughter just came back from abroad and she intends to hold a get-together. And you also need to check out that vacuum cleaner of mine. It’s been giving me some problems.”
“Why don’t I fix it right now? It’s hardly going to take me a few minutes.”
“Oh, hush, Erik. Then what reason will you have to come here again so soon?”
He stops in the doorway and presses a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll come here however often you want me to, Mama. Don’t worry.”
Edie beams at him and turns to Charles. “Charles, how would you like to come back for dinner one day? There’s so many pictures of Erik as a baby that I want to show you.
Erik groans. “I’m going to hide them somewhere you can’t reach.”
Charles laughs. “I’d love to, um, Edie. I promise I’ll be back soon. Thank you for having me today.”
“Of course. Take care, boychik. You too, Charles.”
They bid their goodbyes to Edie and settle down in Erik’s car. The drive back to Erik’s place is silent, but not uncomfortably so. Charles is buzzing from the day that has just passed, from Edie’s silent warmth that was too strong for his shields to contain, and from Erik’s happiness of having his two most favourite people meet. He blushes at that.
“How’re you feeling?” Erik asks when they’re in his driveway. “Not too bad?”
“Good. A bit overwhelmed, but good.”
Erik’s relief and happiness are a heady mix to behold. “Come here.” He pulls Charles close. It's a squeeze, Charles' legs squished against the door and his head tucked into the crook of Erik's neck, but his heart is full with Erik holding him close. He can last a while longer like this.