Chapter Text
Charles regretted the whole "road trip" idea the moment he sat down in the passenger seat of the vehicle begrudgingly provided to them by the CIA.
Which was quite unfortunate, because he had been looking forward to exploring the American roads with nothing but a vague destination and a dream. And fully paid for by the government. And with attractive company. How could one not be excited?
That had all been crushed when he'd sat down and caught the sheer vexation radiating from Erik. He didn't have to use his powers to know that whatever he felt towards this trip, Erik was feeling the opposite. It was hard to ignore the thoughts radiating from Erik, like this is a waste of time, the name Shaw repeated like a mantra, distrust toward the government.
Distrust towards Charles.
That immediately pulled Charles' walls up, shielding his mind from Erik's, reminding himself of Erik's request. And here he thought they'd been getting closer. Not friends, per se, but allies. Charles figured that with Erik agreeing to stay, it had meant something.
"What do you know about me?"
"Everything."
Alright, Charles didn't know everything. But he knew enough. Enough to pull him from the water and save his life. He knew about his childhood, the camps, and his mother. He knew about Shaw and Erik's quest for revenge. He knew Erik had killed; there were far too many to count, but honestly, Charles couldn't find it in himself to feel much pity for them.
But he knew the path of revenge would never lead to the freedom that Erik so desperately craved. He hoped that with Erik staying, he would be able to guide him. To show him a better way. To soothe the tempest that was Erik's mind.
He remembered the first time he'd felt Erik's mind, the rush of emotions that had nearly caused Charles to stumble. Erik's mind was like anything he'd ever felt. It was wild and angry, yet at the same time, cold and calculated and precise. And in the middle of it all, like the eye of a hurricane, there was a bright spot. Goodness, humanity. Love.
Despite everything, it seemed the years had done little to dim that part of him; instead, he created walls so high around it that not even Erik could access it, all to protect himself. His mind was so remarkable that Charles wanted nothing more than to get lost in it.
"Then you know to stay out of my head."
And stayed out, Charles had. No matter how badly he wanted to break his promise and take one more peek.
A realization struck him, which hurt far more than knowing that Erik simply distrusted him. Charles had thought it was because they were strangers; that was something they could change. Something Charles had hoped they would change over this trip.
Erik didn't trust Charles because of his mutation. Something he couldn't help, he couldn't change. No matter how much he wished he could.
It was then Charles realized the two of them had been sitting in silence for about two minutes, the car still not turned on. Erik was looking everywhere but at him, the visible tension in his jaw, making Charles' own jaw ache.
The summer sun was warming the car, and the heat was quickly becoming unbearable, but Charles wasn't about to ask Erik to turn on the vehicle. Now regretting his choice of a long-sleeve button-up, he moved to try and roll up his sleeves, only to stop when Erik's head snapped to him, alarm flashing in his eyes, just for a second.
"What's got you so jumpy?" Charles attempted to laugh, letting his arms fall to his lap, sleeves still down. To Charles, the question was redundant, as he knew full well what, or who, had Erik so twitchy.
It was him.
Cold, steel blue eyes assessed Charles like he was a threat. "Nothing," Erik responded, finally turning on the car. Charles eagerly rolled the window down, both to let some of the heat and tension escape the car.
It only worked to ease one of those things, his body slowly cooling down. Yet Erik was still on edge, making Charles want to call it quits then and there; if it was going to be like this the entire time, Charles would do this on his own.
But then he would lose Erik. And somehow, despite everything else, that idea hurt the worst.
He told himself it would take time to change Erik's attitude towards him. It wasn't an impossible task; it would be difficult because Erik was just as stubborn as him (if not more so).
Taking a deep breath, Charles extended what he hoped was an olive branch. "You can trust me, my friend."
It might as well have been a poisoned dagger, the way Erik scowled, jerking away the tiniest amount. "How-"
"You're acting like I'm about to attack you at any moment. I don't have to read your mind to know your distrust towards me." Charles didn't bother to hide his irritation in his tone.
"I don't trust people," Erik muttered as if that was a valid explanation.
Clearly, he wanted to say. "Then have some faith. I'm not in your head. Not unless you want me to be."
"You make it sound like you need permission. But you don't. No matter what I do, you can just let yourself in."
"But I won't. I've got morals, you know." Charles' voice was growing more short. "Would it make you feel better if I kept my hands in my lap?" The question was condescending, further adding fuel to the fire (Erik didn't need to know that Charles didn't have to bring his fingers up to his temple every time to use his mutation; it just made them more precise. He mainly did it to reassure others; they would be far less amicable towards him if they knew that he didn't even need to lift a finger to enter their minds).
As expected, Erik scoffed and rolled his eyes. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, attempting to reign in his anger. An apology was on the tip of Charles' tongue, but before he could utter the words, Erik was grumbling, "Let's get this fucking over with."
The sound of the car engine thwarted any opportunity Charles had to speak, Erik taking off at a quicker speed than was necessary, nearly toppling Charles in his seat.
He was unable to suppress a long sigh. This was going to be a long trip.
✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
Things had cooled off between them when they reached New York City, about four hours from the secret CIA base the man in black had taken them to. The completely silent, awkward four-hour drive, only speaking when agreeing to stop at a gas station in the middle of nowhere.
The radio had helped, but Charles had only turned it on halfway there, unable to take the silence any longer. He wished he'd brought a book, crossword, something other to do than sit and look out the window, concentrating hard on not catching any of Erik's thoughts.
The act was more draining than he had anticipated, and he found himself already exhausted by the time they reached the city, the silhouette of the iconic buildings growing closer and closer. If Erik had noticed him nodding off against the window, he didn't say anything, but he saw a flash of annoyance on his face when he had to get Charles' attention multiple times.
"Where are we stopping?" Erik eventually sighed, turning his attention to Charles, caught at a stop light. Charles had a feeling Erik could change the light if he wanted; the idea made him chuckle to himself.
"Our mutant works at a gentleman's club-"
"No. Where are we stopping? To rest."
Charles glanced at the time: 5:43 in the afternoon. It was far too early to retire for the night, wasting precious time (and resources). "I'm not sure-"
Once again, Erik cut him off, wearing Charles' already thin patience even thinner. "You're exhausted." He paused. "I'm exhausted. I know neither of us has been sleeping well at the base. We'll find her tomorrow."
Erik left no room for argument, which didn't matter because Charles was more than happy to take the rest of the day off. Sleeping in a bed and not having to deal with the CIA breathing down his neck? It was a dream come true.
"Do you think the CIA will pay for a suite?"
It was brief, but Charles saw the faint twitch of Erik's lip as he fought a smile. "I think they meant something more like that." He pointed out the window, Charles following until his eyes landed on a Motel 6 that looked like it had seen better days. They were driving towards it, Erik apparently having already decided they were sleeping there tonight.
Charles shrugged. "I've slept in worse places."
Erik shot him a disbelieving glare. "I'm sure you have." Charles wasn't expecting the bitterness in his voice, and the complete switch up in Erik's attitude caused Charles' brow to furrow.
What the hell?
He hadn't even said or done anything.
Was his mere existence enough to anger Erik?
Biting back any remark, Charles sunk into his seat, ready for this conversation to be finished. A headache was becoming known, creeping up his spine and pounding his brain. Rubbing his neck did little to alleviate the growing pain; for the first time in his life, he was looking forward to sleeping in a dingy motel.
The urge to rub at his temples was strong, but he had enough of a mind to keep his hands from wandering further up, knowing one wrong move would end up with a piece of metal at his throat. As wonderful as Erik's powers were, he did not want to be on the receiving end of them.
Erik, thankfully, was silent for the rest of the drive. Even as they were walking into the motel, Erik said nothing.
God, Charles was so sick of silence, both in conversation and in his mind. Not hearing, feeling the constant pulse of thoughts and emotions from others was alienating.
How everyone else functioned like this was beyond him.
The receptionist couldn't have been older than twenty, barely looking up from his magazine when they walked in. Letting Erik take the lead, he fell back, out of sight of Erik, letting his fingers wander to his temple. If there was any better time to ensure his powers didn't wander...
It was a habit, to do a brief scan of people's minds whenever he walked into a room. Nothing too deep, just catching their demeanor, their intentions. To deem if they were a threat or not. The relief that flooded his mind when he was finally able to let go was immeasurable, and he was unable to hide his smile, some of his tension dissipating.
There were a few others in the lobby beside him, Erik, and the receptionist. There was an older gentleman tucked next to a fireplace, face buried into a newspaper. Two younger men were loitering by the entrance, and a woman smoking in one of the armchairs, her feet resting on her suitcase, clearly exhausted.
A quick glimpse told Charles that none of these people, including the receptionist, were of any threat to him or Erik, or had really even noticed the two of them.
It was quite challenging, though, to read everyone else but ignore Erik. He was a bright, flashing beacon, and Charles had to fight the pull towards it. And despite that, he could still feel his current demeanor: irritated, rubbing against Charles like sandpaper.
Able to breathe a little easier, he turned his attention back to Erik, only to find him already watching him. Dropping his hand, he quickly threw his walls back up, just in time to block out the sheer wave of displeasure that he was bound to feel from Erik.
His expression unreadable, Erik turned back towards the receptionist. "Make that two rooms, then," he heard him say.
Charles was already walking down the hallway when Erik caught up to him, able to quickly overtake Charles and stop in front of him.
"What the hell were you doing?" Erik hissed.
"I was making sure no one was a threat. What, am I not allowed to use my powers at all?"
Erik was about to respond before another patron scooted past, giving Charles an awkward smile, clearly able to tell that they were passing by a heated disagreement.
Erik went to try to speak again, but Charles cut him off. "So I can't use my powers, but you can? Oh, don't think I didn't feel you when we walked in. The damn doors were shaking!" A bit of an exaggeration, but his point still stood.
"That's different-"
"It's really not-"
"At least I'm not looking where I'm not supposed-"
"I wasn't reading far enough in-"
"You shouldn't be reading at all."
"So you're saying that I should hide?"
That shut Erik up, mouth opening and closing, the fire in his eyes slowly dimming. Clenching his jaw, Erik straightened; Charles finally realized how close they had gotten, faces inches from each other.
Charles was pissed off, but why did he feel almost disappointed when Erik pulled away? He blamed it on the fact that he needed to blow off steam, and Erik was now stopping this argument before it progressed.
The other man's eyes flicked across Charles' face, and he heard a loud sigh leave Erik. A set of keys was pressed into his chest, Charles barely grabbing it before Erik stormed away. He watched him flick his wrist, his door opening on its own, then promptly slamming shut, Erik disappearing behind it.
Now fully alone, he gave himself a moment to calm himself before heading to his room. Of course, it was the one next to Erik's, a shared wall between them.
The irony wasn't lost on Charles, scoffing as he unlocked his room, which looked as pleasant as expected.
Dumping his bag ungracefully onto the ground, he let himself fall back onto the bed, not caring that it thumped against the wall (Charles could admit that he was petty).
His headache was in full force now, the sunlight from the window feeling more like a needle being pressed into his eye than a warm comfort.
Barely remembering to kick off his shoes, he buried his face into the pillows, which smelled faintly of dust and old cigarettes, and tried desperately not to think about the man on the other side of the wall.
It was likely a lost cause, but why was Charles still so desperate to make things amicable between them?
✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
Quite honestly, he had expected Erik to leave in the middle of the night.
So when he woke to someone pounding on his door, he had no clue as to who it was. Still half-asleep, his brain nowhere awake enough to reach out and sense who it was, he stumbled from his bed to the door, tripping over his shoes in the process.
Erik was standing on the other side, looking completely noncommital, nearly bored, as his eyes roamed over Charles.
He was fully dressed, looking quite lovely in a black suit, fitted as well as a borrowed suit could be. Charles imagined he looked quite insane next to him, still in yesterday's clothes, likely rumpled from sleep. Running a hand through his hair in an attempt to calm the strands he just knew were sticking up, he'd forgotten about how they'd ended yesterday until he saw the wary expression Erik was giving him.
"Ah. Erik. Good morning." He hoped he didn't sound too surprised.
A plastic-covered garment was shoved into his arms (he was getting really tired of Erik shoving things into his hands). "Make yourself presentable," Erik skipped the pleasantries. "We're leaving in 10."
Right. Their mutant. Angel, if he remembered correctly.
He didn't wait for Charles to confirm, turning on his heel and marching back towards the lobby. Not wanting to push his luck and see if Erik would leave without him, he quickly dressed, the gray suit just a little too tight, raking his fingers through his hair to make it somewhat presentable.
Erik was sitting in one of the armchairs when Charles met up with him, three minutes to spare. Before Charles could even greet him, he was on his feet, drinking from a nondescript styrofoam cup. Whatever the contents were (it was either bitter coffee or something stronger), it made Erik wince before he handed Charles a cup of his own.
He didn't have to ask what it was; he saw the tag of the teabag sticking out from beneath the lid.
He'd only mentioned the fact he preferred tea to Erik once, it having not even been the focus of the conversation, back at the CIA base. Charles was both touched and startled that Erik remembered and a bit confused as to what that could possibly mean.
If it meant anything at all.
And for once, it wasn't shoved into Charles' hands. In fact, it almost felt like a peace offering; it was up to Charles to accept it.
He did, flashing a curt yet grateful smile to Erik, who nearly looked surprised as if his consciousness was catching up to him and his actions.
"I'll go pull the car up," Erik excused himself, leaving Charles with his slightly too-steeped tea. It was the thought that counted, he supposed.
Charles swore things were a little less tense when he sat in the passenger seat, the drive to the gentleman's club done in silence, yet not quite as uncomfortable as yesterday. He wasn't sure what had changed, but he wasn't complaining.
Like the motel, the inside of the club had been as wonderful as Charles had anticipated, wanting to leave the moment he stepped foot inside. Shoving past the discomfort, it didn't take long to track down Angel, who was working the room with the confidence of someone doing this for a while.
Getting some privacy had been easy, though Charles had no idea how they would approach this with her when they walked into the room. He wanted to reach out, to speak with Erik in his mind, but he knew that would end horribly.
Sitting on the bed, there was hardly any room between him and Erik, who looked completely at ease, a damn smirk on his face. How desperately Charles wanted to wipe that self-satisfied expression off his face.
"You cats know it's double for both, right?" Angel had her hands on her hips, rightfully irritated.
"No, that won't be necessary. Although, I'm sure it'd be magical." Charles regretted the words as soon as he spoke them, cringing at himself. He regretted them even more when he heard Erik's amused exhale, Charles now fighting the urge to ram his elbow between his ribs.
"We were thinking more, we'll show you ours if you show us yours."
Glad to hear that Erik was just as socially inept, he chuckled, and he could see the way Erik's jaw clenched in annoyance.
Angel was unfazed; Charles didn't even want to begin to imagine the things she'd seen, the people she'd had to deal with if she was unbothered by them.
"Baby, that is not the way it works around here."
With every passing second, Charles knew they were losing Angel. Luckily, Erik seemed to know this, too. A loud snap caught his attention, and he watched out of the corner of his eye as the metal ice bucket began to rise, in reach for Erik to grab the bottle of champagne resting in it.
Marvelous, Charles couldn't help but think as he watched Erik flaunt his powers.
"More tea, vicar?"
"Don't mind if I do," he responded, enjoying the playful banter. Letting Erik fill his glass, he kept his eyes locked on Angel the entire time. He watched as her guarded expression dropped, realization replacing it when she registered that what she'd seen hadn't been a trick of the mind.
When she realized that she wasn't alone.
Yet she wasn't fully convinced, still eying the both of them warily; it was Charles' turn now.
Bringing his fingers up to his temple, he could feel Erik stiffen next to him, the act nearly disrupting Charles enough to lose his focus. But Charles persevered, and Erik pretended like he was unbothered, but the long drink he took told the truth.
He didn't read Angel's mind. Instead, he projected an image, an image that made him laugh as he came up with it. Angel must've found it funny, too, because her hardened expression dropped as she giggled.
Erik's now wig-wearing head turned to him, both confusion and worry etched onto his face. "It's good, isn't it?" Charles laughed, Erik's head now turning between him and Angel.
"What?" Erik asked, not privy to the illusion Charles had created. He had said he hadn't wanted Charles in his mind.
"How did you do that?" Any lingering doubt was gone; Angel was thoroughly intrigued by them now.
Leaning into Erik, he let himself quickly take in the sight that was Erik in drag, the blue dress Charles had projected on to him twinkling in the club lights. "You've never looked more beautiful, darling."
It was at that moment Charles wished he'd had laxer morals, wanting nothing more than to know Erik's reaction to his words. Because at first glance, Erik looked unaffected.
But at this proximity, it was hard to hide the widening of his eyes, the sharp intake of breath. Curious. Steel eyes danced across Charles' face, searching for an answer.
Then came the rage.
It was subtle, of course, not wanting to make a scene in front of their guest. But the look in his eye promised Charles he was in for it once they were alone.
Distracted for the rest of their short discussion, he could hardly appreciate Angel's beautiful wings due to his nerves and frustration. One of them asked if she'd like a job where she gets to keep her clothes on; Charles honestly couldn't tell who it was.
Angel left not long after that with a promise that she would be there. Left alone with Erik, he quickly scrambled out of the room, booking it straight out of the club and to the car. Was he running? Yes, but Charles was tired of being shamed by Erik.
They were out here encouraging mutants to embrace their mutations and oddities, but Charles couldn't? The hypocrisy was infuriating.
Charles never made it to the car.
An aggressive pulse from his watch was all the warning he got before he was dragged into an alley by it, hurting his shoulder from the force with which he was pulled.
He was grateful his head didn't slam up against the brick wall, though his arm was pinned up to it, held in place by his watch. He made a note to remove it later, as well as any other metal he might be wearing.
Though he figured it would look ridiculous if his suit were to have no buttons on it.
He wasn't given much time to think, Erik crowding into his space with ill intent. "Let me go, Erik." Charles wasn't scared, oddly enough. He knew that if push came to shove, he could stop Erik with a simple thought, though the fallout from that would be unfixable.
Charles wasn't scared, so why was his heart pounding as Erik leaned in, his teeth bared?
Actually, it was probably best he didn't think about that right now.
"What did you do?"
I swear-
"You paranoid bastard," Charles seethed, uncaring of the attention they might draw. But in a city like this, he hardly had to worry. "Why are you so convinced that everyone is out to get you?"
"Because they are-"
"No, they're not! Open your damn eyes! Is Moira or Hank out to get you? Is Raven? Is Angel? Are the people we pass on the street, are they all out to get you?" He paused. "Am I out to get you? I am not your enemy, Erik. Though if you keep doubting me, treating me like this, like I'm a damn freak that needs to be locked up, then you might change that. So congratulations."
Erik had the right mind to back up a step. "You still didn't answer my question."
Charles rolled his eyes; he was doing everything wrong for someone in his position, but yet again, he knew Erik wouldn't hurt him.
Couldn't hurt him.
"It was an illusion. I didn't peer into her mind. I didn't make her agree to come with us. I just projected an image, altering her perception of reality for a few moments." A very entertaining image, he would've said if the situation wasn't, well, this.
"Then why didn't I see it?"
"Because you told me to stay out. Is it truly that difficult to believe I'm respecting your wishes?"
Charles wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer.
Erik didn't provide it, but the silence spoke for him.
Yes.
He felt his watch pulse once. Then twice.
Relief flooded his shoulder when Erik finally dropped his arm, taking a few more steps back. Charles wasn't done talking, though. "I trust you to use your powers, though I clearly shouldn't. Extend the same courtesy to me. That is all I ask of you. You don't have to like it. You don't have to like me. But let me do what I need to do. I promise you, I won't do anything to you. I won't do anything you haven't asked for."
A beat of silence passed, Erik considering him.
"Alright."
His voice was softer than Charles had anticipated, but Erik turned tail and left back down the alley before Charles had a chance to question his change of attitude.
"What will it take for you to trust me?" Charles sighed, mainly to himself. If Erik heard him, he had no clue, disappearing out of sight.
He wasn't left alone for long.
A light tug on his watch, which now felt nearly playful, had Charles making an undignified, exasperated noise. The audacity of that man, after all that, to call on him like a damn dog.
What did it say about Charles, though, when he followed after him, unable to resist the pull that was Erik Lehnsherr?
✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
"What else can you do?"
Glancing up from where he'd been staring out the window, nothing but countryside as his view, he shot Erik a curious look. "What do you mean?"
"With your mutation. You can read minds, obviously. You can make people see things. You can make them do something, or act a certain way. What else can you do? Or is that your limit?"
That was far from his limit, but Charles was afraid of being abandoned in the middle of nowhere if he told Erik that. "That... that's it."
Erik scoffed. "You're a terrible fucking liar, Charles."
"What do you want me to say, then? That I could make you swerve into the ditch with a smile on your face? That, if I wanted, I could stop your heart simply because I told your brain to do so. That, if I wanted, I could wipe your memory, stuff you with a false life, fake memories, and send you back into the world, Erik Lehnsherr only existing in the memories of others?" He hadn't clocked just how low his voice had gotten, each word spoken clearly, punctually, taking on a coldness that chilled even him.
Charles took a deep breath, returning his voice to normal. "You already don't trust me. I don't need to give you more reasons to do so."
When he glanced over, Erik, as expected, looked quite uncomfortable. Shifting in his seat, he'd yet to tear his eyes from the road, even though there was nothing but a straight road and fields in front of them.
But he was silent; the urge to peer into his mind once again making itself known.
The world should be grateful for his restraint.
Charles wasn't sure how many minutes had passed before Erik spoke again. "And have you done those things before?"
He could lie.
He should lie.
But he loved making things harder for himself.
"How do you think I know I can do those things?"
Erik didn't talk for the rest of the drive to the motel, and Charles hadn't expected anything different.
It was strange, though. Erik was uncomfortable, yes, but he wasn't afraid. His eyes weren't flicking to Charles, not ensuring he hadn't moved an inch. No part of him was shaking, though he gripped the steering wheel with more force than necessary.
He felt his walls begin to slip, both a mix of exhaustion and temptation nearly too strong.
It was getting harder to deny the fact that he was incredibly attracted to the other man. No matter how many walls Erik (and him) threw up, no matter how many alarm bells went off in his head, he couldn't shake this infatuation.
And, God, he was so exhausted.
Both of these things combined were a deadly combination, bringing him closer to slipping up, his body at its limit.
Physically, he was fine; the only ache in his body was his back from having to sit in an uncomfortable car seat for hours and hours on end.
It was his mind. All his energy had been spent keeping his walls up, both for his powers and more personal desires.
It was starting to take its toll, too; simple tricks were becoming challenging for Charles, barely able to gleam surface thoughts from people's minds. Elaborate illusions were, frankly, impossible; Charles was only able to create small images and hold them for less and less time.
Erik, obviously, wasn't privy to this, him having no idea what Charles was showing their mutant (more often than not, it was at Erik's expense).
Alright, maybe it was fine that Erik didn't know that; he didn't seem like the type of person to take a joke well.
Spacing out for the rest of the journey, getting lost in his thoughts, he'd been broken out when Erik pulled off the road, the barely-lit motel sign hardly breaking the growing darkness. Glancing around, he found himself longing for that Motel 6 from a few days ago.
Five days, to be exact.
Charles had been surprised to find that, over these days, things had gotten easier between them. They were less quick to lose their temper, though most conversations turned into arguments. Well, Charles would consider them disagreements now. Still angry, but less visceral.
More... dignified.
But the conversations before those disagreements were what Charles really wasn't expecting. It started off small, Erik being the one to broach the silence.
"That was a first."
For a moment, Charles had panicked, thinking he'd let himself slip and peered into Erik's thoughts. But no, Erik's mouth had moved and was now watching Charles expectantly.
"Quite the introduction," Charles agreed, sounding skeptical, like it was a trap.
Erik made a disappointed noise. "He seemed strong. We could've used him."
"We couldn't force him to come with us."
"We couldn't." Erik paused. "But you could."
"But I won't."
"But you won't," Erik repeated, each word spoken slowly, precisely, as if Erik was convincing himself of something. Erik was deep in thought as he began to drive, and Charles let the silence hang in the air for a few moments.
"Do you think his last name is Yourself, or Fuck-Yourself?"
Charles' stupid joke paid off, being rewarded with a genuine laugh from Erik, grinning broadly at Charles.
He could see himself quickly growing addicted to that sight.
Now, they were chatting a little more. It was mainly Charles talking, but that was because Erik was asking the questions. Were there always varying lengths of silence after? Yes, especially when Charles had asked him something, but Charles had noticed them growing shorter by the day.
(Yes, he had counted; in his defense, he was bored.)
And when he got incredibly bored, he found his eyes wandering over to Erik just to watch him, to admire him. He'd never do it for long, a few seconds max, though he doubted he was subtle. He was completely certain Erik had noticed but hadn't told him off yet.
Strange.
The more time Charles spent with Erik, the more he learned how confusing that man was, contradictory in all the sense of the word. Charles could never tell what would set him off; things that would even tick Charles off unfazed Erik, yet small comments, insignificant comments would set him into an irate mood.
Erik would mostly glare at him, but sometimes, he caught Erik glancing at him like he'd forgotten he was supposed to not trust him, features soft, unguarded.
He'd watch Erik praise another's mutation, then balk when Charles would use his.
But that was happening less, too. There was an ease between them now, an understanding. Charles would even go as far as to say that they were becoming... friendly. A tense alliance was a better term for it, though.
A loud rapping at his window yanked him from his thoughts, head whipping to glare at Erik, who was standing outside the door, arms now crossed.
Amused.
And currently not in the car's driver's seat, his brain finally pointed out, Charles quickly scrambled to get out, if but the tiniest bit embarrassed.
"Anyone home up there?" Erik tapped his temple before realizing the irony in that action and smirking.
That was new, too.
Jokes from Erik.
Or his definition of jokes.
Grumbling the world's quietest fuck off, he stormed into the motel, the screech of the front door covering up Erik's laugh.
They did their usual; Erik got the rooms, and Charles did a scan. And just like every night before then, it went smoothly. They went to their respective rooms (more often than not, they were right by each other). This night, they were. Exchanging pleasantries, they would break apart for the night, seeing each other when Erik would pound on his door at just a God-awful time.
Charles didn't collapse on the bed. Not yet.
Today had been warm, and even though they'd ditched the suits today, he was still sweaty and gross and needed to shower.
The shower pressure was surprisingly decent, and there was enough hot water for Charles to shower without having to rush. He was still in the bathroom, just finishing dressing, when a familiar knock rang through the silent, steam-filled air.
"Open the door yourself," Charles shouted back, stepping out of the bathroom as Erik walked in, shaking his hair and sending droplets everywhere.
Charles glanced at Erik suspiciously, rubbing his eyes, though very far from complaining. "Everything alright, Erik?" You've never stopped by before.
Erik's mouth opened, then closed, second-guessing what he was about to say. "You're exhausted." They both knew those weren't the words he'd intended to speak.
Charles had seen the bags under his eyes this morning; he imagined they were far worse now. "Well, we haven't been sleeping in luxury-"
"It's beyond that. Mentally, you're exhausted." Erik blinked at him, concern appearing for a split second. "You're straining yourself."
Quite the contrary, my friend. "It's more like I'm restraining myself."
Erik faltered. "I'm... sorry?"
"I'm restraining my powers. I have been for the entire trip. That's why I'm exhausted." He was too tired for anything other than pure honesty.
"Wha- How? Why?"
He sighed. "I think of it like... walls. When my walls are down, I can feel everyone around me. Feel their minds. I'm not getting a rush of everyone's exact thoughts; just surface thoughts. A general feeling, nothing serious. When my walls are up, like they are now, I'm cut off from all that. I'm... 'normal'. As to why," Charles chuckled, albeit humorlessly, "I hope you know the answer to that question."
I'm doing it because you asked.
Erik actually looked guilty, and Charles nearly felt a bit bad.
Nearly.
"Let go, Charles."
It was Charles' turn to falter, figuring he'd misheard. "What?"
"I've been thinking about what you've said. About your mutation. About... hiding." Erik paused; he was nervous, vulnerability clearly not one of his strong suits. "I... I want to let you in. I'm letting you in."
"Erik, you don't-"
"I do. You've respected my wishes this entire time, even to your detriment. That... no one's..." Erik sighed before trying again. "You've given me no reason to not let you use your powers. To not... trust you. So let go. But nothing further. Not yet."
Refusing to pass up this opportunity, he let his fingers wander to his temple, giving Erik plenty of time to stop him.
The smile that fell on his face was completely natural when Erik didn't move.
It grew even wider when he felt the familiar force that was Erik, though the wave of relief that assaulted his exhausted mind when he finally let go nearly drowned it out.
His eyes fluttered for a moment, a pleased sigh escaping him. The sheer elation that shocked his body when he felt Erik react was astounding, that beautiful bright spot in his mind lighting up.
"I can feel you," Erik whispered, closer than Charles remembered. "It's not... painful." An airy noise escaped him, barely a laugh. "I thought I'd imagined it, back in the water. It's like I felt your body behind me, yet at the same time, you were everywhere. Hovering above, almost."
Charles didn't have to look to know Erik was playing that memory over again, though the rush of warmth that flooded Erik's mind was unexpected.
"Like an angel on your shoulder." Charles laughed.
"Devil, more likely."
Charles rolled his eyes, his smile not faltering.
There was a grin on Erik's face, which disappeared as a thought formed. A thought Charles could feel, heavy and mood-dampening. "You are making your presence known. You could peer into the depths of someone's mind, and they wouldn't feel a thing."
"Against another telepath? They'd feel me, no matter what I do... probably. But against anyone else?" Charles sighed. "If I so choose, I could make them not feel me. And most of the time, I do. But not on my friends. My allies," he quickly corrected. "If I'm in their minds, they deserve to know. A courtesy, I suppose."
"And all those things you mentioned before? Back in the car? You could do those things, and I'd have no idea I was being influenced?"
He hesitated before nodding grimly.
At that, something rang through Erik's mind, too quick for Charles to catch.
Expecting Erik to retreat, Charles slowly began to pull himself from Erik's mind, walls beginning to rebuild, brick by brick.
"Stay."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes."
Erik was entirely confident, not even the tiniest amount of doubt flaring in his mind.
Charles could've wept with relief.
"Just don't pry," Erik continued. "You'll know what I want you to know."
"Of course," Charles promised. "...Thank you, Erik." He paused, thinking over Erik's words. "You thought it was going to be painful?"
"Well, every other time a telepath's been in my head, it hasn't been pleasant. The others have been sharp, ruthless. Uncaring of the mind they're peering into." Erik glanced at him, grateful. "You're not like that. You're gentle. It's... soothing, nearly."
Maybe it was the tone Erik had taken, his voice a low murmur, but Charles felt assured enough to let a mental hand drag down the side of Erik's mind, a comforting gesture. A caress.
He watched as Erik's eyes closed before taking a long, deep breath. "You could make it hurt."
"Yes, I could."
Erik was excellent at suppressing his emotions. Yet, not good enough, Charles felt a pulse of desire ring through Erik's mind before it was muffled, and he now realized that's what he'd felt moments prior.
That... that had been the last thing Charles had expected.
Charles kept his face neutral; Erik clearly hadn't wanted him to know that, as evident by the muting of his emotions.
But it was too late, Charles' head rushing, near dizzying at the realization that this wasn't all one-sided. The urge to dig deeper had never been more tempting, yet Charles held strong. He'd just gotten Erik to trust him enough to "hover," as Erik described it, in his mind.
And who was to say that this wasn't Charles just projecting his own desire onto Erik?
Erik cleared his throat. "But, in the water, I didn't just feel you in my mind. I heard you, too."
//Like this?//
Charles swore Erik's mouth tugged at a smile when he heard Charles' voice in his mind. "Yeah, like that."
//Communication isn't one-sided, you know. You can respond telepathically, too. It's a link.//
A sudden loud, indiscernible shout in his head made him flinch, making him curse and rub at his temple. A fucking laugh from Erik made him immediately forget about his pain, glancing up in time to see the last few seconds of that terrifying yet alluring smile.
//Sorry, I had to.// Erik's voice was at an appropriate volume now, laced with humor. The words were still a little choppy, though Charles knew that with a bit of practice, it would start to sound a little more natural.
//You don't sound very sorry,// Charles grumbled, though his glare had lost any real heat.
//You have to admit, it was funny.//
//For you. You don't have a piercing headache now.//
At that, Charles did detect a hint of guilt. //How can I make it up to you?//
Charles wasn't about to suggest any of the things that threatened to come to mind, conscious of the fact that one slip would enlighten Erik with all the things Charles had thought of being in his proximity for over the past week.
Though Charles was foolish to hope that maybe, just maybe, Erik wouldn't be opposed.
But he wasn’t supposed to know that Erik didn’t just tolerate him, and he wasn’t about to risk everything by teasing that line between platonic and romantic
//We're stopping by a real hotel tomorrow. A proper hotel. With a bar. I will pay for it myself if I have to.//
//You could always make me take you to one.//
Erik's fear must've turned into a fascination with how much he's been talking about Charles' mutation. More specifically, what Charles could do to him with his mutation.
//But I won't.//
//No. You won't.//
Charles swore he detected disappointment from the other man, which was quickly washed away by something else.
He wasn't given a moment to think about what he was going to say next, Erik nodding curtly to Charles before backing up slowly to the doorway; if Charles didn't know better, he nearly looked spooked. His mind wasn't calm, but there was something else, something that he couldn't tell what it was, but knew it wasn't fear or distrust.
It was heavy and hot and overwhelming, making Charles' head spin and heart pound.
"I'll let you rest.” he abruptly said. “Goodnight, Charles."
Sleep was the farthest thing on Charles' mind now. "Goodnight, Erik." He hated how it came out like a question, completely thrown off-kilter by Erik and his, well, everything.
Erik was gone before Charles could call out for him to wait.
Stunned, Charles was rooted in place for a few moments longer than necessary before collapsing onto the springy bed. Running his fingers through his hair and down his face, the moments prior playing on repeat.
What the hell just happened?
It felt like there was a weight off of his chest, yet at the same time, he still felt like he was drowning. His mind felt free, yes, but how free was it when it could only think of the man a few rooms down?
Erik had finally let him in.
Erik trusted him.
Well, maybe not entirely, but it was getting there.
There was still hope; Charles could lead him down the right path, one filled with compassion and love, rather than vengeance and destruction.
He wouldn't lose Erik.
Charles sat with his thoughts until the hour grew late, and the other man had long since fallen asleep. Erik wasn't dreaming, though Charles could feel that he was content.
//Thank you, Erik.//
It rang out into the abyss, the empty void that was an unconscious mind.
It wasn't until Charles was drifting off himself that he felt a pulse of warmth in response.
✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
"Does this meet your requirements, doctor?"
He and Erik stood outside of a rather nice-looking hotel, a significant upgrade from the places they had been staying at.
"Don't call me that."
"Fine. Professor."
"Don't call me that, either."
"Why not? It's your title, after all."
"Well, to be a professor, I have to have a teaching position."
"So, doctor, then."
"I'd much rather just be called Charles."
Erik rolled his eyes. "Fine. The question still stands. Does this meet your requirements, Charles? " Erik decided then to lean into him, bumping his shoulder lightly.
"Let's see if it does," Charles failed to hide his smile, his shoulder burning where Erik had touched him.
Walking in, the interior was just as nice as the outside. With large, plush rugs, extravagant murals painted on the walls, and large brass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, it seems more like a place he would see over in England, not in upper New York.
Passing beneath one of the chandeliers to head to the front desk, Charles noticed how it nearly seemed to vibrate, the lights flickering the tiniest amount.
//Was that you?//
He could feel Erik shrug. //Just seeing if you were paying attention.//
//I'm seldom caught unaware. Perks of being a telepath. No one can hide their true intentions from me.//
As always, Erik took the lead with the receptionist, Charles doing his usual scan. There wasn't anyone else in the lobby, though about thirty feet down the hall, he felt a cluster of minds, about nine or so.
Nine intoxicated minds.
//You've picked an excellent spot, my friend.// He relayed the information to Erik. //There's a bar somewhere.//
//You owe me a drink, then.//
//Deal.//
The sound of Erik clearing his throat drew his attention to the receptionist, who was staring at them curiously. Charles hadn't caught any ill intentions from the man when he'd walked in, but now a bit suspicious, he let himself peer in as Erik spoke.
"One room, please. Just for the night."
Both Charles and the receptionist stiffened at that, Charles in shock and the receptionist in... disgust.
"Of course," he heard the receptionist speak, words clipped, smile forced.
The sheer hate now radiating from this man stunned Charles, a complete one-eighty, and he had the foresight to pull out his mind before his thoughts came rushing out.
Erik either was unaware of the receptionist's change of tone, or he chose to ignore it. Either way, Erik was walking down the hall, though stopping once realizing Charles wasn't behind him.
He felt his watch pulse. //You coming?//
//In a moment. What room are we in?//
//118.//
//I'll meet you there.//
//Everything alright?//
//Yes. I just need to speak to the gentleman behind the counter.//
Erik was silent for a moment. //Take too long, and I'm coming to get you.//
With that, he approached the receptionist, who eyed Charles like he was something disgusting, a clear display of hate.
Hatred. That was something Charles found that all minds shared.
Some just had more than others.
"Did you need something?" He couldn't have sounded less eager to help, watching Charles with disdain as he lingered in the lobby.
"No, not at all, John."
"How do-"
"You really ought to wear a nametag, like most customer service workers do. Quite unprofessional, I must say."
He didn't give him a chance to respond, stepping towards him. "Now, I'd rather like to have a peaceful evening, so here's what's going to happen." He let his fingers rest against his temple. "When I walk down that hallway, you're going to forget about me and my friend."
"I'm sorry?"
"You heard what I said. Can you do that for me?" Charles knew it wasn't a matter of whether the other man could; Charles' powers expanded far past the restraints of human limitation.
"Look, I don't know what-"
"I'll take that as a yes, then. Have a good night, sir."
Charles heard John shout out after him, obscenities and slurs falling on deaf ears, then ultimately falling silent once Charles stepped foot in the hallway.
Reaching into John's mind, he felt as the rage dimmed out, bewilderment replacing it, unsure of what he'd just been yelling at.
Charles walked into their room with a faint smirk, Erik closing the door behind him with a soft flick of his fingers.
"Everything alright?" Erik repeated his previous question, this time speaking aloud.
"It is now," Charles sighed, sitting on the edge of his bed. "I'm surprised you didn't stay."
"I trusted you could handle it," Erik shrugged as if his words were insignificant. "Whatever it was."
Right. Clearing his throat, he shifted uncomfortably. "Let's just say he was less than thrilled at the idea of two men sharing a room." Charles could feel his cheeks warm as he spoke, stammering, everything catching up to him now. It was nothing to be ashamed of, but even still, he found himself growing embarrassed.
Because Charles did want Erik that way. He wanted him in his bed, to get lost in each other, to forget about the world outside the four walls. He wanted him by his side, to continuously challenge his ideas, to keep Charles on his toes. He wanted to stay in his mind, to discover all of its edges and curves, the beautiful and the ugly, though Charles doubted anything pertaining to Erik could be described as ugly.
He wanted Erik more than he'd wanted anything in his life.
And he had to pretend like he was unaffected like everything was just a misunderstanding.
"I... see," Erik spoke after an awkward silence, Charles looking anywhere but him. "I knew he was acting odd. I thought it was my accent. Or he somehow knew we were mutants."
"He thinks us freaks, but not for that reason. I think he would've acted less disgusted if you'd started making all the silverware move." He felt a bit of amusement from Erik, though it barely dispersed his concern. "I've taken care of it, Erik. We won't have any issues."
"Did you wipe his memory?"
"Only of us. He'll be a bit confused when we check out, so let me do the talking tomorrow."
Erik muttered something in agreement, though Charles could feel his thoughts start to rush; Charles didn't ask him what he was thinking, knowing Erik would speak them in time.
"Why don't you make them change?"
"I'm sorry?"
"You could... erase their hate. That receptionist, you could've made him change his views. Why didn't you?"
"Because that's not real change. It would just be like one of my illusions. It wouldn’t be tangible."
"Change takes too long, Charles. Hate, that's here, that now. It takes. It kills. It is pure destruction, and you could end it all like that. But you won't." He could hear Erik's voice steadily rising.
"But I can't," he quickly corrected. "Hate will exist no matter what I do. People will always find things to hate about each other; it's innate for humans. If they're a mutant. If they're gay. If their skin is a different color. If they're of a different religion. We will always hate each other because we want everyone to be like us. It's our job to acknowledge that, acknowledge that hate, that we all have biases and prejudices, and change it ourselves. How we do that, I’m not entirely certain. I don’t think anyone has an answer yet. But I know it will be slow. It will be difficult. But it will be permanent. It will be a solution."
Erik's mind was red-hot; Charles knew better than to touch, to reach out. Slowly, he began to retreat from Erik's mind, the other man not noticing. "You're so fucking naive as to think humans are capable of change."
Charles laughed, a bitter sound. "Maybe I am, Erik. But everything is capable of change. Change is the solution. This," he tapped at his temple, "isn't."
"And what of those who need change now? Who won't live past this day because of the actions of others, because of their hate? What about them, Charles?" Charles wasn't sure when either of them stood; Erik was in his space now, faces inches apart. Charles felt Erik's fingers tap at his temple, mocking the action. "That's is the solution."
"And to what end? Once I wipe the hate from everyone's minds, which will come back, what next? It's all downhill from there, and before anyone knows it, they're a husk of the person they were, completely deprived of any free will."
"The world might be better that way."
"You don't mean that."
Erik paused, stunned by Charles' certainty. His eyes narrowed. "I told you not to pry, Charles." The hurt in his voice made Charles flinch, even though he knew he'd done nothing wrong.
"I'm not. Do you feel me in your mind?" Charles didn't give him a chance to answer. "No. But I know you don't mean that."
For a split second, Erik was the one looking hurt, before a sardonic smile replaced his frown. "Right. Because you know everything about me."
"I don't. I really don't. Erik-"
"Then why do you think you can tell me who I am? What my words mean?" Erik was seething now, words sounding more like a hiss. "You're right. You don't know me."
"And who's fault is that? You've only just stopped treating me like the enemy. But I realize now you still haven't." A bitter chuckle escaped him. "I'm trying to understand you, Erik. I really am. But you're not letting me."
"I don't need you to understand me. I don't need you. I don't need to be here." Erik paused, taking a step back from Charles. "I should've never let you convince me to stay."
Each sentence out of Erik's mouth felt like a physical blow; Charles wondered if the hurt was evident on his face. "Then why are you still here?"
He wasn't expecting the silence that followed his question, making his ears ring as he glared at Erik, growing more upset with each second that passed. Either Erik didn't have an answer, or he did and just couldn't bring himself to say it.
Scoffing, he didn't try to fight the roll of his eyes. "I won't stop you if you leave," Charles muttered, stepping back towards the door. "Good luck with the CIA, though." He took another step.
"Where are you going?"
"Out."
He was halfway out the door when he felt his watch pulse.
Snapping his attention to Erik, he didn't break eye contact as he undid the small latch, the silver watch flying to the other man, who caught it in his hand. His expression was unreadable as he glanced from the watch to Charles.
Charles wanted to let himself back into Erik's mind, just to know what he was feeling, but something about that made it seem like admitting defeat.
So he kept his walls up, not speaking, merely shaking his head as he left.