#ericha

FANDOM: X-MEN

WARNING: Boyxboy, blood, vampires, Shaw (he’s an ass), poor German/English

PAIRINGS: Erik/Charles, Raven/Hank (because Azezel didn’t fit the role I needed)

Don’t own X-Men, but I own this story and the random OCs. Thieves will be bitten to death – no bargaining for your life.

A blood squire, that’s what I’ve been brought up to be, what my whole life lead towards. For whom? I wouldn’t know until today, until tonight at the handing over ceremony. I’ve known nothing but this, learnt nothing but how to be perfect for this day.

My hands trembled with nerves, my stomach roiled in anticipation. Today my destiny would be decided and my future would finally begin.

I’d be presented before the court, showcased to those attending – a prize to bid over, a luxury to claim. I was excited, if not terrified as well. If tonight did not go well, I would have nothing.

Already I had been prepped and cleaned for the evening, my hair cut, my nails polished. I looked better than I ever had before, like a majestic piece of art simply waiting for someone to place their bid on. My body had been scrubbed so thoroughly that they must have removed a layer of skin, which was probably why my limbs looked so terribly flushed.

I ran tentative fingers over my neck, my skin clean of perfumes and creams. I needed to be pure tonight, I could not have scents marring my natural allure…if I had any, I hope I had some, even just a little bit. It would be tragic to not be chosen tonight. I knew that many squires went years before they were chosen, but I waited and wished to be chosen now. It wasn’t necessarily frowned upon to be unchosen at your first presentation, yet it left a lingering sense of bereavement.

I knew a few unchosen squires, men and women better than I, more beautiful and alluring, with better training than I had the fortune to have. How could I compare beside them? How would my dull appearance shine above those so perfect that it scared me they were unchosen? If my friends – although they could hardly be called so – heard my inner fear they might have laughed at me. The choosing was based solely on blood.

I knew my line was strong; my parents had blessed me in that way – their union a match of two brilliant blood squires with unique taste. I was rare, my blood like ‘toasted walnuts in candied sugar’ – or so Dr McCoy had said earlier this year. In some way the good doctor’s words warmed me and in others it chilled me to the bone. Although specified blood was rare and exclusive, it posed a harder time to find someone interested in the precise scent and taste. I heard even vampires could have allergic reactions to a specific blood type.

A shudder rushed down my spine and I clutch the arms of the chair precariously. There were so many reasons why I wouldn’t be chosen, yet I was giddy and hopeful that tonight would be the night.

“Charles!”

I turn my head, my lips parting in a small sigh of relief. “Raven, you took long enough,” I scold softly. My sister looks rather marvellous in her black sheath dress, her golden curls tumbling softly around her un-makeuped face – she might have been an angel if I didn’t know all her pesky traits.

Her lips twisted into a malicious grin and she carefully turned in a circle, hands clutching at the hem of the ridiculously short outfit. “I look lovely, don’t I?” She asked, her blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

I purse my lips and force down the habit of rolling my eyes. “Rather splendid,” I answer candidly. Raven had pretty much secured herself to be chosen tonight, more than a few blood-drinkers have approached us seeking her as their own. It was customary to decline before the Hand Over ceremony, after all before tonight all squires were considered too young to be chosen.

I on the other hand have received no such offers. Raven was a beauty, I admit, and although I doubt I was terribly ugly I still felt like a wilted flower in her presence. The vampires didn’t care much for gender when choosing a squire; it was merely a blood bargain after all. So in theory I might have had some offers if I weren’t so ‘dully absorbed in books and philosophy’ as Raven so prettily put it. The truth behind the matter was I didn’t appeal to the creatures I had been so carefully crafted to please.

Despite my sister’s lack of true seriousness, she was still the young girl that had teased me mercilessly and comforted me through nightmares. She paused in her showing off and gently came to cup my cheek, her lips falling into a twist of genuine concern. “You’ll be fine, Charles, they’ll love you. Everyone always does,”

My head bobs in a slight nod, but inside I shake it in denial; Raven was the one everyone was drawn to. She was spontaneous and sweet, mischievous and flirtatious. She could play three instruments wonderfully had had the loveliest of singing voices, she enraptured people mercilessly. “And you,” I say mildly.

“Suck up,” Raven rolls her eyes and gives my cheek an affectionate pat before standing back to give me a once over. “You clean up well,” She taps her chin and gestures for me to stand, I comply docile, I know better than to try her patience. “Ah!” she suddenly exclaims and launches herself forward to loosen my tie and undo the top two buttons of my crisply pressed shirt.

Groaning in protest I don’t make the move to stop her actions.

“Oh, hush!” she fusses and steps away to admire her work. “What good would it do to hide your assets?”

“They can drink from the wrist, you know?” I tease with an air of aloofness.

Raven lets out a short burst of laughter that really isn’t as attractive as her normal chuckling is, “You smart ass, who wants to be that boring?”

This time I allow myself the pleasure of rolling my eyes, “You never know, maybe you’ll be so lucky as to find out.”

She sends me a playful glare, “I’ll do no such thing!” Raven sashays over and hooks her arm in mine. “Enough chatting, we have a Handing Over ceremony to attend.”

A nervous bubble blocks my throat and makes it difficult to breathe. It’s finally time.

X-X-X

Three years later

“Charles~” Raven whines pitifully and yanks on my arm, momentarily dissuading me from eating a rather scrumptious looking bite of French toast dripping in maple syrup.

I scowl and shake her lose, determined in my quest to enjoy breakfast for once.

“Charles~” she continues, pressing her golden head against my shoulder and nudging me until I’m forced to place my fork down in favour of dropping it on the floor. “You shouldn’t ignore me!” she groans and sticks her lip out, looking at me with pleading eyes.

With a glance across the table and seeing no forthcoming assistance from Dr McCoy, I sigh and give in to Raven’s pleas. “I’ve already told you that I have no intention of attending this year’s Handing Over ceremony, Raven.” I glare as she whimpers clutching at my dress shirt without decorum. “And no amount of coercion will change that fact. You went behind my back to write my name in for the event and despite how this will effect both our designations, I still refuse to attend.”

“But, Charles,” she snivels tugging again and again at my sleeve, “You have to go! This is going to be the year! I know it is!”

Once again I cast my eyes to Hank and the good doctor offers me an apologetic smile, he can control his blood squire as much as I can. Raven wouldn’t listen to either of us and Hank wasn’t going to jeopardise himself in her good graces in order to defend me this morning. And I can’t really blame him. “Raven,” I start as firmly as I can manage with sleep still clinging to the edges of my mind and my sister clinging to my arm. “You know no such thing and my answer is final. I will not be attending and you better make sure to inform Moira before the ceremony starts.”

She groans pathetically and graciously loosens her grip on my arm; I reach for my cutlery once more.

“It’s not fair!” she wails suddenly and my hand jumps, thankfully the toast remains fixed to the metal prongs and I quickly grab it with my teeth to continue with breakfast. “You can’t do this to me!”

I roll my eyes and focus my attention wholly on the delectably sweet taste on my tongue.

“Hank!” she cries and my eyes shoot up just in time to see horror flash across the man’s face. “Hank, make him see reason. He’ll listen to you,”

My eyes widen comically and my brows shoot up, but I go back to my breakfast with avid devotion. This was one conversation I had truly no need to be involved in, the sooner I finished my breakfast the sooner I’d be able to escape the storm that would tear this room to pieces. I truly felt bad for Hank; he had inherited my problem by choice. Why he would bring this on himself, I had no clue.

“I-I don’t think he will,” Hank mumbles and reaches to push up his glasses, which are a rather strange feature for a vampire. “Your brother is stubborn,” he grumbles but I can hear the silent apology wiggled into the words.

“I am,” I agree, taking pity on the doctor, although I keep to my food.

Raven huffs and pushes to her feet. “You’ll go, Charles! I swear on every book you possess, I will set fire to your room if you don’t do this for me.”

My brows hike up and suddenly I lose my appetite. I turn to my sister, “You’ll what?”

“You heard me!” she says smugly and plants her fists on her hips. “You go to the ceremony tonight or I’ll burn all your precious paperbacks.”

I have hardcovers as well, but decide against saying so. There was no doubt in my mind that Raven would burn my books, she was cruel like that, yet I was reluctant to accept. As painful as losing my books would be, I had no wish to experience the humiliation of the Handing Over ceremony for the third time. The first one had been terrible, but the second? That one sealed the deal. It seemed obvious to me after a round of degradation that I was not suited there, I had pride and I certainly had a level of sanity to keep to.

Having been stripped down to be examined in a room full of vampires was pretty bad, but if you added the mortification of Head Organiser Shaw gagging his morning blood supply over your naked chest…no, I didn’t want to relive it. Not a single vampire came close to me for the rest of the night, not that Raven’s persistent snide comments made it any better. She was a viper when it came to her brother and I felt the niggling feeling she’d be able to chase them all away without being present by now.

My reputation looked bad, not only because of Shaw and Raven, but that damn idiot Moira who found it entertaining to bring up my misfortune at every turn.

Thankfully, for me, Hank had chosen Raven on our first year. The man was kind enough to take me in as well, despite not having chosen me. I acted more as a helping hand in the doctor’s room than anything else. I gave Hank my psychological knowledge and expertise on biology and he repaid me with a place to stay and food to eat. He was the closest thing to a friend I had. Although it wasn’t unheard of for a vampire to have two blood squires, Hank wanted exclusivity and Raven didn’t share all too well.

I bit my lip in thought, books or humiliation? As much as I hated to admit it, my books were worth more than my stupid pride. The worst that could happen was someone brought up the previous incident and the best was that everyone would remember without someone bringing it up and everyone would simply ignore me. I scowled and forced a glacial glare at Raven. “I’ll go, but then you may not.”

The blonde’s mouth fell open, somewhere between pleased and fury. “Why not?”

“Because those are my terms,” I state stubbornly, crossing my arms over my chest in a show of defiance.

For a moment she seethes, her gaze flickering to Hank as if the doctor would somehow make me change my mind. Eventually she snarls and throws her hands in the air. “Fine! But if it ends horribly then don’t blame me for not being there.”

My eyes roll at her tirade, “I assure you that nothing terrible could happen without you there.”

Her mouth opens and closes, I can see she’s not sure whether to take my words as an insult or reassurance so she storms off in a flurry of grumbling.

“You live dangerously,” Hanks states.

“I’ll have no comment from you,” I glare at him, simply because I can, and he flinches. There are times when even I am surprised by the power I wield…although it’s silly, unchosen me over a mere fledgling vampire in his hundreds.

X-X-X

I haven’t been this dressed up since the last Handing Over ceremony and can’t help buy despair a little that I couldn’t do so every day. Granted I wore my suit and casual shirt most days, it was simply how I was, but this…this was nice, better than nice actually. The tuxedo was soft and smart, the fabric deeper than any colour I’d ever come across in my life. And the shirt was crisp and fresh, it moved over my skin like a lovers caress.

I looked fetching and, no, I wasn’t conceited. The suit simply worked wonders on my strangely vampire-pale skin and rather boring features.

“Ah!” Raven crowed excitedly and tugged on a lock of my hair, fluttering around me like a flustered mother. “You look simply beautiful, Charles!”

Chocking on the air in my lungs, I spin to pin my sister with a scowl. “Raven!”

“What?” she flashes me an unassuming grin and pats my hair, “You are beautiful,”

I growl low and jerk away from her touch to give the mirror one last look; Raven had undone the top buttons and loosened the tie again. I sigh. “Really? Is that supposed to help me?”

She cocks her head and gave a painfully strained smile, she looks unbearably silly and I can’t help but chuckle. “Okay, so you look handsome, but don’t tell anyone I said that. I don’t want you getting a large ego and it’s supposed to be reserved for Hank.”

The chuckle escalates in to laughter and I trap Raven in a rare and spontaneous hug, I place a kiss to the top of her head and rest my chin on the same spot when she returns the gesture. “I promise not to say anything.”

“Good,” she grouses and pats my butt suddenly, making me yelp. “You have a party to get to, Charles, now stop smothering me and get this sexy butt out my sight before I change my mind and go with you.”

“I’m going! I’m going!” I state pulling away and grinning to myself, Raven clutches my hand and gives it a small squeeze.

“Behave yourself,”

I wink at her and return the squeeze before slipping from the room, still warm from the embrace despite the chilly night air.

X-X-X

It’s colder than I expect it to be, colder than I ever remember it being, at the Handing Over venue – which is quite conveniently an old manor next to a frozen lake and aptly named Frozen Soul Manor. I hardly contain the urge to snicker and have to bite my bottom lip from making an unwanted comment. Moira already had enough ammunition on me for my liking.

The years previous had been elsewhere, I think one might have been a simple ballroom in a central hotel. Wherever the event took place hardly mattered, the outcome was justly the same. Moria hosted an extravagant, lavish affair with more spending than sense and Shaw put on a show, with his usual twisted idea of entertainment, and the squires stood in frozen fear of being chosen for his sick games.

This year, I vowed, I would stay clear of the mad old vampire. He’d taken more blood squires than most could find something to do with and I feared that was mostly because he treated them with the same enthusiasm as his games. Squires didn’t last very long under Shaw’s care.

I’d fallen prey to his games on my second year, but it hadn’t gone too far to put me in real danger. In some way I was glad Shaw chose that moment to be ill. Lord knows what would have happened if he continued to spend his time on me. I shuddered at the mere thought.

The ballroom was rather like I remembered it being before, Moira’s doing I’m sure. Drapes hug along the walls and the roof; creating semi-private nooks for the vampires to try their chosen wares. Tables dotted the dance floor, no one would be dancing this evening anyway, scattered with crystal glasses and jugs brimming with crimson liquid.  Off to the side was a separate table with boxes of cranberry juice and neatly stacked baskets of fruit and breads. I headed there first, the most likely place to find another squire to talk to.

I approached the table with caution, keeping my eyes down and skirting some distance around any vampire that happened across my path. I reached the table in one piece and let out a sigh of relief, instantly moving for a glass of juice and searching for the perfect apple to occupy myself. As I waited I meticulously nibbled at my apple, my eyes roaming the room.

Everyone dressed up for tonight –suit, tie and the lot – although I saw no reason for the vampires to do so. The squires were on display not the blood-drinkers, yet I assume having to convince a squire to be yours could be a difficult task if you looked like you just crawled out a hole in the ground. Blood squires relied on the vampires that chose them to provide them with a place to stay and food to eat and in return squires served the vampires however they wished. It was a good system, a system we knew from the moment we could talk.

Raven’s parents had given her to the Academy when she was five – a little later than was necessary – but thankfully I had been there from the age of three and she had no trouble following in my footsteps. We might have had different mother’s, but the bond we shared through our father was enough.

That was another thing tonight was useful for – mating. It was at a choosing ceremony that mother had conceived me, and later the same evening Raven too. Now that I thought about it, my father was a terrible player. But then again, it was only natural for the squires to continue the squire line – mother and father’s union was one of convenience and creating someone to join their world, there wasn’t love between squires when they shared different vampire hosts. Love was something difficult in our world, not that that stopped Raven and Hank from keeping me awake at night.

I sipped at the juice and stowed away the apple core, I never developed Raven’s ability to eat the whole. The liquid was naturally sweet and made me cringe, although it grew bitter on the back of my tongue.

“Oh, what a pretty thing you are,”

Slowly I lower my glass and turn around, stifling my irritation at the compliment. “Emma Frost,” I say quietly and incline my head, there’s a certain aura around vampires that makes you feel small and inferior, but Frost is known for enforcing it on others.

A Cheshire grin slips across her face and she extends her hand, “That’s my name, darling, what’s yours?”

I take her hand and place a feather-light kiss on the back of it, knowing just what she wants. When I look back up at her she looks smug beyond comprehension. “Charles Xavier,” I pause and allow my eyes to do roam over her, the way I was taught, “Miss,” I add softly and finally release her hand.

“Oh my, you’re an interesting one, darling,” Her freed fingers curl around the crystal glass in her other hand; she tilts her head and leans forward. “What lovely eyes, they remind me of a vampire I know.”

“A charming vampire, I hope,” I mutter without flinching, pleased with my ability to talk without making a complete fool of myself, I smile. “I’ve heard their my best feature,”

“They look simply delectable, darling,” Frost states and that Cheshire grins returns full force, “You look simply delectable,”

“Thank you,” it was the best compliment I could think to come from a vampire after all.

“I wonder,” she pauses and steps forward, her head leaning in to ghost her nose across my jaw, “Hmm, you smell mouth-watering as well,”

A shiver races across my spine, it was the first time a vampire had truly taken an interest in me, it was a giddy feeling, to be wanted.

“My,” she giggles and straightens, “Don’t get too excited yet, darling, the evening’s barely started.”

I flush at my stupid bodily reactions to the whole situation and incline my head. “Of course,”

“Oh pooh!” she grumbles and releases one hand to curl her arm into mine, “Don’t look so embarrassed, darling,” she presses into my side and I can’t help but notice that she is taller than I. “You really are a pretty thing, it would be a shame to chase you off. Stay by my side so I can show you off,”

She doesn’t give me time to answer, simply drags me away from the table into the growing mass of vampires and squires.

“I hate these dreary functions,” she sighs and waves at another vampire, “But it’s nice to find such appealing company, by the end of the night I plan to have every vampire drooling over my good fortune.” She squeezes my arm tightly, “I must introduce you to my bullet brained cousin; he’ll be purely enthralled with you. He likes your type, the soft, pleasant looking ones with some spunk to them.” She chuckles lightly, “Oh, he’ll hate me for stealing right from under his nose, I’m sure.”

I nod readily, even though I’m still trying to remember exactly who her cousin is. I was pretty well versed on our vampire society and should have known who Emma’s cousin was, but I had the strangest sense of loss. I recalled Emma being the last in her line. “Well, let’s make him green with envy then, Miss,”

“Call me ‘Emma’, darling, you have a delightful little accent and I’m sure my name would sound like unadulterated sex on your lips.”

My brows hike up and I chuckle even though I’m shocked by her words, “If that’s what you want, Emma,”

“It is,” she croons cuddling my arm, “I do! Say it again.”

“Emma,” I state and laugh, she reminds me of Raven; a taller, more explicit Raven.

“So delightful, I might not wait for the Handing Over before staking you as my own.” We fall into a comfortable silence and she continues to lead me through the throng. “Is this your first Handing Over ceremony, darling?”

I shake my head, “No, this is my third,”

“And you remain unchosen?” I nod and she gives an exaggerated gasp, “It must be my good fortune! I knew you looked familiar, but I would never have guessed. You seem rather young,”

“My genes, I fear,”

“Oh? Who were your lucky sires?”

I don’t comment on her use of the vampire term and offer a small smile, “Saraten, Lord Robert’s squire, and Kent, Miss Hillary’s squire,”

“Lovely, simply lovely,” her eyes sparkle, “A wonderful combination; you are the lucky one, darling,”

I agree with her whole heartedly.

“There he is!” She suddenly crows and straightens, a grin tugging at her lips. “Do put on a show for me, dear, I want Erik starved for some of you.” She drags me past a few mulling squires and all but jumps at, who I can only assume to be, Erik without releasing her hold on me. “Sweetheart! You came!”

“Emma,” the man groans and peels the vampire from himself. “Let go,” reluctantly Frost does just that and she cuddles back to my side.

“I’m happy to see you here, sweetheart,” Emma says to Erik even though her hands roam unbidden over my chest before moving to stroke the side of my neck.

I fight to keep my eyes from popping from my head; I’m most certainly not used to such treatment.

“This darling is Charles Xavier, do be nice to him, sweetheart.” Emma insists. “Charles, darling, this is Erik Lehnshirr,”

I clear my throat and incline my head, “Good evening, Sir,”

“Really, darling,” Emma laughs and takes hold of my chin to force my head up, “Call him Erik, I’m sure he doesn’t mind.”

I see her wink in my peripheral vision and swallow the lump in my throat. She seems adamant for me to do this. I blink up at the man, no taller than Emma, his eyes a shocking blue. He’s handsome, in a rough I-do-whatever-the-fuck-I-want way and I feel somewhat better about the ensuing flirtation. “Hello, Erik, thank you for joining us this evening,”

The vampire’s eyes instantly narrow and he flashes Frost a chilly glare before his eyes settle back on me, “Hello, Charles, was it?”

“It is,” I mutter quietly, a plot to make him lean closer. Vampires had good hearing, but in such a noisy place he’d be forced to comply. I see the annoyance flash in his eyes and a tick form at the corner of his lips, but he does lean closer. Emma is practically vibrating in excitement next to me.

“He is rather mouth-watering, sweetheart,” Emma starts lowering her voice too to join in on the fun, her eyes glowing in the dim lighting, “You should take a whiff,” she presses a hand to my back and pushes me a little closer. “Go ahead,”

I turn my head, exposing my neck in the way I’ve seen Raven do for Hank. My heart is hammering in my throat and I’m pretty sure he can see my veins throbbing against my skin. I would never admit it, but this was thrilling, like taunting a hungry lion.

Emma must be enjoying herself as well, her fingers turn claw-like on my arm and I gasp at the harsh hold.

The next moment I’m holding my breath as I feel Erik’s cool nose in the crook of my neck. Truly exhilarating. His fingers reach up and tilt my head further, my face flushes. I can feel his lips part, his breath on my skin. He pulls away and my eyes snap open, when did I close them?

“Not bad,” Erik says.

As I right my head I find his eyes glued to me even though Emma is once again dangling on my arm like a glorified chimp. Emma huffs, but I hear the undercurrents of pleasure in the sound. She runs her hands against my chest again, unbuttoning my shirt further and I withhold the urge to slap a palm against my face. She’s exactly like Raven.

I flush further and try not to squirm under her touch. It wasn’t necessarily unpleasant, but it wasn’t entirely enjoyable either. If anything it was ticklish. I’m on the verge of asking Emma to stop her dawdling when I realise that her gaze is firmly on Erik. The male has his gaze firmly on Emma’s roaming hand…the hand that is currently sneaking under my shirt. My face lights up like a damn fire engine.

Could this be any worse? Yes, yes it could, if Raven were here. I let out a sigh, the tension draining from my body. It could be so much worse.

I take the moment of clarity to assess the situation and collect my bearings. Emma is enraptured by her game of tormenting Erik, which oddly seems to be working, and the male is deeply drawn into her game. I simply happened to be the game. It’s not so bad, I tell myself and nod slightly. I was used to Raven’s nosy, over-protective sister act and Hank’s strange devotion; this was different and although change could be shocking it could be beneficial as well.

This could be beneficial, strange as it may seem. If other vampires saw Emma and Erik’s interest in me it would spark further curiosity and ultimately I’d have a decent chance of being chosen by the night’s end. Which was the goal, as much as I hated the idea of leaving Hank alone with Raven – heaven knows what torture would befall the poor man in my absence. But this was my life duty, the reason I was born, what I spent my whole life training to be. Raven and Hank would have to get on fine without me.

I catch Emma’s hand as it strays a little lower and draw it away from my skin. I place a gentle kiss on the back of the appendage and Emma’s eyes turn away from Erik for a brief moment to focus on my kind smile. “I think that’s more than enough, Emma,”

The blonde pouts and draws her hand away just so she can pat my cheek, “But it was only starting to get fun,”

I chuckle, “I know, maybe you can play more later?”

Although I purposely made it a suggestion I firmed my voice and Emma’s eyes sparkled with something different, something I could not decipher. “Oh, all right, then, I guess it can’t be helped.”

Her clutches loosen and I can honestly say I’m grateful for the space she gives me. But when she throws Erik a cheeky grin and flips her hair, I know her game isn’t over just yet. “Do keep an eye on Charles for me, sweetheart, I don’t want any thirsty critters snatching him up when I turn my back.”

Frost flounces away without waiting for Erik to refuse and I stare after her with slight annoyance building in my stomach. She was way too much like Raven. I turn toward Erik and offer an apologetic smile before trying to scamper off into the filled room.

I don’t move more than two steps before I’m forced to stop. There is a hand around my forearm and a rush of breath close to my ear. My eyes bug in astonishment. I know without having to turn around that the breath belongs to Erik, and I cannot fathom why I don’t fight against his hold.

I’m curious. What does he want?

Despite the sound around us, I feel like we’re in a bubble of silence and when Erik’s mouth descends on the skin under my ear I nearly suffer an apoplectic fit. As it is, I yelp a most undignified sound and I feel the vampire’s chest rumble behind me. It takes me a moment to register, but when it does I jerk away from Erik as fast as the small space around us allows.  I press a hand to my neck and spin to pin the vampire with a frigid glare, he’s laughing at me. I’m sure of it, even though his face is cautiously blank.

I straighten my spine and drop my hand, quickly doing up one of the buttons Emma had undone. “That was unnecessary,”

“Was it?” One of his brows rise and it only draws my attention to his wonderful bone structure.

I glower, gritting my teeth; the man had come damn near to giving me a bloody hickey. “Yes,” I snap. “Completely and extremely needless,”

His lips twist into a mirror of Emma’s Cheshire grin, “I don’t think so,”

A loud tapping fills the air and the vampires and squires around us fall quiet, I twist and attempt my escape once again. This time when Erik grabs at me I shake his hold off as quickly as I can.

“Where are you going?” he snarls.

I lift a hand and point at the front of the room where most of the squires had already migrated to. “I’ve been summoned,” I stomp off with my chin high, my heart beating a little too fast.

X-X-X

“Good evening, vampires and squires.” Moira starts and the ball room falls into an eerie silence, nearly fifty eyes settle on the Academy Head Mistress. “It’s my pleasure to welcome you all here tonight at our annual Handing Over Ceremony. This annual event serves to inform and protect the legacy of our forefathers by bringing trained blood squires in to your midst.” Her eyes flicker to the gathered squires at the end of the small platform, she smiles that bright, excited smile that allows me to categorise her as insane. “The Academy has raised these young men and women from children into the perfect squires. Tonight you get to meet them and Choose one to act as you blood squire. Although some of us may leave unchosen, it does not mean we are unwanted. We strive to bring peace to the vampire world and protect those around us with this practice. Please remember that the Choosing is a mutual decision and you cannot force a squire to accept your Choice.”

There’s a quiet grumble from the back and some of the squires shrink in on themselves. Brutality and force aren’t uncommon, but it was frowned upon…at least during the ceremony. Once the vampires and their squires left it was none of the Academy’s concern what happened. I felt a tickle of apprehension run down my spine, it was one of the reasons I preferred to stay unchosen and by Raven’s side. A soon as I was Chosen there would be no going back, no running away from a particularly harsh or demeaning vampire. I’d prefer to work as a professor in the Academy, if I could simply escape a few more years of being Chosen.

“Now we’ll be calling up your lucky squires to give the pledge and to place their oath.” Moira looks to us and I can feel how her gaze lands on me for a moment before she is grinning again, “The first is Henry Jenkins. Please come up,”

A short, blonde boy with flushed cheeks and large brown eyes, that I can hardly believe is old enough to be at the ceremony, stumbles up to the stage mumbling apologies. Moira gives a kind smile and indicates the large urn placed in the middle of the platform, next to which stands a pudgy brunet in a black suit – I recognise him as part of the security detail of the Academy, but his name escapes me. He hands Henry a curved blade with a shimmering golden hilt.

Henry grabs the weapon, nearly dropping it as his eyes widen over the crowd, he swallows audibly. “I-I…” his mouth opens and closes, there’s a whispered ‘You can do it!’ among the squires and the boy’s mouth softens. “I am Henry Jenkins, son of Gillian Duff and Samual DeMois. I pledge myself unto this cause and provide my life as a token of living for the vampires of our society.” His hand grips the knife steadily and he run’s the blade over his palm, flinching. He hands the blade back to the dark haired man and extends his arm over the urn. “With this pledge, I willingly offer you my blood.” Red trickles from his fingers and makes a soft tapping at the bottom of the empty urn. Cheeks pale, Henry turns and accepts a damp cloth from the security man, quickly wiping at his hand before hurrying from the stage.

There’s a polite round of applause and Moira grins as if she had orchestrated an award winning performance. “Jennifer Roman,”

The names kept coming and sometimes the pledge was interrupted by snipes from interested vampires, other times there were quiet snickers from the squires when someone said it wrong. I suffered a severe case of De’javu through most of it, memories of previous squires flooding my head and making my mind ache dreadfully. I recognised some names that had been at the Academy with me and others that I recalled from a previous Handing Over ceremony. Over all it was dreadfully dull and I wished I had brought one of my books to keep myself busy.

After what seemed an eternity, Moira’s eyes sought me out, “Charles Xavier,”

I breathed deeply and slowly made my way to the front, face perfectly neutral. I could feel the pressure of eyes settling on my back, like cold fingers tracing down my spine. An involuntary cringe worked its way over my body and I was rather thankful that I was facing the stage in that moment. Moira shot me an excited grin and I couldn’t return it for the life of me.

The dark haired man beckoned me closer, my feet moved of their own accord, leading me toward to large urn. I knew that a few feet away was a crowd of vampires and I was about to cut my hand open and offer them an invitation to attack me. The first time I’d been as nervous as Henry, without the stumbling and stuttering, of course. The second I was wallowing in my humiliation by Shaw’s hand, it was only now that I allowed these thoughts to penetrate my cool façade. There could be a crazed creature among the many; all it would take was one measly attack to kill me. Humanity was frail, I was frail.

But why would one of them choose to attack me when there had been at least ten before I went on stage? Insufferable, Charles, don’t be so daft as to think you’re special! My eyes flickered and I graciously accepted the knife. The metal was cool in my palm, yet so light as if it were made from plastic. My stomach churned and I looked up at the room, faces stared up at me expectantly, some bored, others already had their eyes locked on the line of squires – having Chosen.

“I am Charles Xavier, son of Saraten Huntsman and Kent Xavier. I pledge myself unto this cause and provide my life as a token of living for the vampires of our society.” There was a low rumble somewhere at the back of the room, vampires in a scuffle no doubt, I ignored it. I lift the blade and press the tip into my palm, my eyes watching as red trickled to the surface, coating my pale skin scarlet. I lift my head, hand the knife to the man just behind me and extend a fist over the urn. The rumble turns into an outright screech and I blink owlishly into the darkness, my mouth parted in confusion. Moira clears her throat and I focus back on my task. “With this pledge, I willing offer you my blood,” I turn my hand and crimson drips into the urn, joining the droplets of those before me. It has the most repugnant smell – of copper and death – I’m quick to accept the cloth and hurry from the stage.

The uproar fades off as another squire stumbles to the stage. My chest pains. Relief makes my head feel light and I curl my unopened palm around a gratifying glass of cranberry juice. A part of me wishing it were tea instead.

X-X-X

Finally the squires are all back at the foot of the platform, our breaths forming sighs of relief as Moira works her way to the front. Her eyes glint with the lights.

“Thank you for your pledges,” there’s a humble round of applause, “Now please acquaint yourselves with the squires before we begin the Choosing. You know the rules: no drinking, no physical fighting and please keep any unnecessary arguments to a minimum. Lord Shaw will now offer entertainment for the next half hour,” there’s a physical draw back from the squires sinking into themselves, faces bleaching and hands shaking.

We blend into the crowd as fast as is humanly possible, taking refuge behind the taller and wider vampires while Shaw scrambles his way to the stage.

Thankfully, a pale haired vampire appears at my side, her face flushed and her pupils dilated as she curls an arm around mine. “How wonderful,” Frost begins and almost hops from one foot to the other, “It smells of dinner in here, darling.”

I try not to cringe at her words and barely succeed. I know a soft rust of blood lines the cut on my palm and instinctively I curl my fingers around it and shove the hand in my suit pocket. I feel like a complete cad for the lazy protection, yet it allows comfort to worm its way into my beating chest. “Not exactly my taste, dear,” I tell Emma lightly, my eyes darting frantically from side to side.

She giggles, “Of course not!” her arm tightens, and her face grows grave, “You really do smell delightful, Charles,” this time I do cringe at the sudden loss of my pet name. “There are a few horrid critters lurking, they have their eyes on you.”

It’s my turn to look gobsmacked, she must be mistaken. I tell her just that.

Emma shakes her head and leans closer to me, whispers in my ear. “Oh, no, I’m most certainly not, darling.” Her nose bumps against my cheek, “Come and let us hide you from their hungry eyes.”

I don’t have much ground to protest and let the vampire lead me away once again.

We reach our destination sooner than I’d hoped and I’m shocked to admit that I didn’t expect Emma to take my earlier words so seriously. I’m met with dazzling blue steel eyes, pupils blown so wide they nearly swallow up the colour. I might have shivered when those eyes latched on my neck, but then again I couldn’t really be sure with a buzzing Emma draped over my arm so elaborately.

“Sweetheart,” Emma coos and the sound is so honeyed it makes my eye twitch. She runs a fevering hand over my shoulder, stopping to gently probe at the skin of my neck. Unlike the first time the action doesn’t seem deliberate – she is no longer trying to entice Erik, she is riding the high as well. I think I should probably fear for my life. “Just look at the little treat I found,” she murmurs and once again her nose is pressing against my skin, her breath fanning against me and causing shivers to dance down my back.

A feral growl permits the air and my eyes swing up in time to see two sharp points sticking a tad longer than the other teeth in Erik’s mouth. My mouth is instantly dry and I nearly drop the crystal glass I’m clenching in my fingers. Alas, I think, feeling slightly faint caught somewhere between delight and panic.

The only way to describe the look on the vampire’s face would be possessive and savage. For some unknown reason, it makes my chest tighten and my breath hitch.

Emma replies with a snarl of her own and before I can blink I’m stuck between two snapping beasts. It’s oddly exhilarating and beyond terrifying. A small whine works its way past my lips and I watch in bafflement as the vampires have some kind of pissing contest I simply cannot wrap my head around.

Several minutes pass in which Erik and Emma move closer and I feel as if they’ve made me into a Charles sandwich. Not that I mind too much, really. Erik smells rather wonderful – of cinnamon and raindrops – Emma isn’t necessarily smelly either. But really, with my face mashed against Erik’s shoulder and Emma’s claws digging into my elbow, I’m not entirely sure thinking about cologne or natural scent or whatever the smell is, is really all that important.

Quite frankly, I should fear for breath as suddenly a mouth full of fabric and the crushing grip of Emma around my waist isn’t seemingly healthy for my lungs. I mutter out in incoherent protest that’s lost in Erik’s current snarling, his chest vibrates beneath my cheek and if I had the strength to I might have shoved my fist in his gut.

As it is I’m shoved even closer and I’m minutely aware of Emma and Erik being nose-to-nose, their eyes flashing dangerously. All I can really say, to be completely honest, is that I wanted to curl up on the sofa in Hank’s study and drink a cup of tea. The mere idea of these vicious beings fighting over who would get to suck me dry seemed preposterous. Why did they even bother? I was dull and a horrid book worm, not nearly as handsome as Henry Jenkins or clearly favoured as one particular red head had been on stage. My blood couldn’t be this appealing; perhaps the vampires were simply ravenous.

I follow a growl of Emma’s with one of my own, offering a weak struggle for release. Suddenly, Emma steps back – she must have seen my discomfort – and I very nearly tumble with her. Except that I’m unable to move because a firm hand is wrapped around my bicep, when had that happened? My eyes snag on lightly tanned fingers – goodness, why are they so large? And deftly follow a white shirt sleeve up to find Erik’s face. A stunning face, honestly, with a square jaw fixed firm in a scowl and brilliant blue eyes flashing dangerously at Emma behind me. Although he looks rather smug, I’m not sure why.

My eyes snag on his, they’re a stunning sapphire, a unique mixture of blue and grey. It’s hypnotising to say the least. After a moment Emma huffs indignantly and Erik’s eyes finally turn to me. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, although the corners of his eyes have creased and the harsh set of his mouth has softened. I have the insane urge to ask him never to blink.

His mouth moves and I blink repeatedly, “Sorry, what was that?” Does my voice really sound so raspy? It surely must be from the constricting huddle moments before.

Erik’s eyes narrow, a sweep of light lashes obscuring sapphire. He looks haughty and smug, and delightfully handsome, I purse my lips at this thought, annoyed. “You will allow me to Choose you,”

My bows hike up and my mouth parts in shock, had he just…? I shake my head, a chuckle bubbling from my chest. Indeed Erik Lehnsherr has just demanded that I accept this Choice. Did I not have a say in the matter? “Absolutely not,” I inform him in my best prissy manner, stepping back only slightly – as he will only allow me so far – to place a hand on my hip. “I will allow no such thing.”

Lehnsherr’s brows draw in and he stares at me with a combination of, what I can only explain as, displeasure and admiration. “You have no reason to refuse me,” he says eventually and the way his hand tightens slightly gives me reason to believe that maybe there are reasons I should refuse him – the main one being that he is a pompous cad.

I huff in reply, contemplate crying for help – I’ve never been too good at theatrics, but I’m sure I could come up with a plausible reason to have Lehnsherr removed from my sight. As it is my weak need to refrain from gaining unnecessary attention wins out and I merely shake the arm the abominable vampire has clutched in his…ridiculously large and warm claws… I cringe at my internal indecision and glare at the fiend responsible for it. “I can come up with many,” I assure him haughtily.

Erik rolls his eyes – again I’m struck by how lovely they are (Mind out the gutter, Xavier!) – and flashes me another of those Cheshire grins. It’s disturbingly losing its unsettling qualities rather quickly and becoming, might I even say it, charming. “Oh, can you?” His brows rise, “Do tell,”

I could have come up with many I assure myself, I already had many! Yet if any of these many – which really wasn’t that much – were to make it past my lips I’d never know. For Shaw took that moment to lay his gaze on me from around my capturer’s shoulder. I knew that look and I shuddered, dread filling me faster than it should have been possible to. Without a moment to spare I step forward and cower from the man’s view by curling myself into Lehnsherr’s larger frame.

The vampire stiffens ever so slightly, but relaxes just as fast, I feel his breath at the top of my head as he speaks. “You were about to tell me why you could not accept my Choice.”

Rolling my eyes seems to be developing as a habit. “Shut up and hide me, you oaf.” I snap out irritably but don’t move.

“Saw someone you like less than you do me? I’m honoured,”

“Fool,” I grumble, dropping my head against his chest and silently hoping Emma had scampered off long ago. Depending on Lehnsherr was discrediting and I’d rather have my second Choice see me in such a compromising position.

Erik’s chest vibrates with a chuckle, “Why should I hide you when you seem so against me, Charles?”

The emphasis he places on my name should not sound so lovely, yet it inevitably does and there’s really not much I can do but hope he’ll do it again. “Because you want to Choose me, what good would I be damaged? And you’re a…virtuous man, aren’t you, Erik?” I return with my own favour.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call myself ‘virtuous’.”

I pause and sigh against his collar. “Perhaps you’d like to try the word out for tonight?”

“Hmm,” his hand falls from my arm to replace itself on my back, “That doesn’t sound too displeasing an idea.”

X-X-X

Perhaps this was a bad idea…okay, no, I need to rephrase that. This was a bad idea. An exceptionally terrible one, one I would have hit Raven over the head repeatedly for having carried out. Yet it’s too late now, I’m in too deep to escape.

Erik seems insistent on his task, his arm drapes over my shoulder in a manner I can only describe as possessive. No one has dared to let their gaze linger on me and when they do, well, let me just point out that vampires are terrifying when provoked. In a way this has assisted me in escaping Shaw’s dubious clutches and I can gladly state that I’m alive and yet to be mortified. Otherwise though…well, Erik has taken his ‘job’ of protecting me to a whole new level.

My head reels at the way he places his adventurous paws along my body. I’ve been groped tonight more times than I think to count and if my cheeks are stained red as the crystal in Erik’s hand then I could be described as a pulsing vein ready to burst. And, blimey, wouldn’t all these blood-suckers have a field day with that. That was if Erik let them close enough.

If my virtue is still intact at the end of the night…well, I’ll be surprised and grateful is all.

“My, oh my,” My head lifts and standing before us is Emma, her lips twisted into a smirk – the smugness of the look only marred by the heated glare she’s throwing at Erik. “I see my pretty little thing has taken a liking to you, Erik,” she says, all honey and thorns.

I cringe, no, that wasn’t right, I hadn’t ‘taken a liking’ to Erik, really. More of a momentary lapse of judgement and sanity mingled with fear of Shaw. Emma really needn’t know that though.

“Why, thank you for handing him to me,” The vampire at my side says with the same tone.

I roll my eyes, children, they’re both children. I try to shrug Erik’s hold off to no avail. My eyes move to side to side, searching for distraction. “Oh!” I smile brightly, “Logan! We had biology together at the Academy,”

Curious eyes settle on me, two heated and annoyed, while the third is inquisitive and thoughtful.

“Charles, was it?” The burly looking man reaches out his hand to shake mine.

“Yes, Charles Xavier,” Our fingers barely touch before Erik jerks it back to my side and I sigh. “Really now, Erik?” I question bitterly while Emma pouts and Logan, tucked into the vampiress’ side, frowns. All the answer I get is Erik’s answering glare. I turn my attention back to my fellow squire, “I thought you were Chosen last year,”

A shake of his head reveals the thin scar by Logan’s ear, “No, had a run in with a tree and motorcycle, spent most of last year in therapy,”

“Have you healed completely?” I ask in shock, wanting to move closer and examine the wounds myself but not being able to escape Erik’s grip.

“Just about,” he returns a small smile, eyes flickering from Erik’s intense scowl and back to me. “You all right? Still unreachable atop a mountain of books,”

My cheeks flare up and I clear my throat, “Not necessarily ‘unreachable’, I’d say…”

He chuckles and Emma tugs on his arm, “It was good seeing you,” he manages before they get swallowed into the crowd.

“Who was that?” Erik snarls.

“Logan, he’s a squire, we had class together,”

“I know that,” he snaps and I roll my eyes, giving up my attempts to escape Erik’s hold.

“Then why are you asking?”

There’s a short pause before Erik’s breath fans across my ear, a shiver tickles down my spine, “You’re mine now, Liebling.”

I know I should reprimand him, but my mouth can’t seem to form any words.

X-X-X

“I’d like all squires and vampires to make their way to the front, please,” Moira’s voice crackles through the air and I won’t explicitly express the emotion I feel as dread, more like relief…maybe. Either way, Eric releases my arm and I make my way blindly through the throng of bodies, only to reach the slowly swelling group of squires, from which I immediately recognise Logan and make my way to his side.

“Did you decide?” We ask simultaneously and I chuckle while he smirks.

“Perhaps,” he says and I nod my agreement, both of us turning to face the stage.

“Now we will commence with the Handing Over and official Choosing.” Moira sings in excitement and there’s an answering rumble from the crowd. “First I’d like to rehash the Choosing rules. There will be no forcing one, vampire or squire into a Choice; choices should be made voluntarily and with complete sound of mind. Secondly, no violence will be tolerated. Final say goes to the squire and any objections to a Choice should be stated clearly and patiently in front of this room.” Moira glances down at the podium in front of her and her eyes raise again to examine up. “The proceedings shall go as follows: a squire will be called forward and all those in favour of Choosing said squire with come forward as well. We will then take a moment for the squire to make their final decision. Any objection will then be brought into consideration and finally a covenant will be made between vampire and squire. Once all necessary pledges are made and the contract is signed, you may leave.”

Silence trickles through the room; I know I’m not the only one here holding my breath in wait for the first name to be called.

I don’t know whether it’s relief or annoyance that swims through me when Moira’s voice reaches my ears, “Henry Jenkins,”

I’m not too sure whether the boy gets Chosen or not, my nerves are on edge and I can say, almost positively, that I can feel eyes resting on the back of my neck. I watch squires and vampires parade on and off stage in intervals, my blood pumping thick in my ears and my foot tapping impatiently on the ground. Hurry on with it, would you?

“Charles Xavier,”

Breath stalls in my throat and I might had stood there for all eternity before Logan gently nudges my arm, reminding me that, yes, I need to go on stage and, wow, this is happening again. I just hope it doesn’t end with me having to go back to Hank’s mansion and scour my skin clean in the shower.

On the stage once again, I stare out into the dimly lit room, my eyes aching from straining against the lack of light. All at once the spotlight focuses on me and I can feel all colour draining from my face. I’m beyond terrified, of what I’m not sure, but I’m terrified no less. Beyond the bright white I can’t see the ocean of faces, I can only sense that they’re there and for the strangest moment I fear that the gaze I felt before is no longer trained on me.

Please, the word whispers through my head. Please what? I want to snap, but my tongue is tied.

“Are there any vampires who wish to claim this lovely man?” Moira tries, my stomach shrivels.

A moment later there’s movement off the end of the stage and I nearly fall back in horror when I see Shaw’s face emerge in his signature look of predatory amusement. I want to cry – nearly do if the stinging behind my eyelids is any indication.

I know my horror is mirrored on the faces of every squire before me and possibly Moira’s face as well. There may be sympathetic gazes from the vampires hidden behind the blinding white spotlight as well.

“I-is there anyone else?” Moira half coughs, lips quivering to keep her smile.

Silence rings out.

The wicked sense of betrayal that shimmies through me is confusing. I have no clue why I’d actually hold Erik to his suggestion. It was silly. I was silly.

There’s a soft mutter of ‘ouch’ and the squires in front of me stumble slightly. Drawing my gaze.

“Just hold on a second, would you?” Comes a gruff snap from below and I narrow my eyes in frustration.

The next thing I know Erik is jumping onto the stage, swinging himself up from the ground – completely ignoring the stairs a few steps away. “Agh, Liebling,” Erik starts and he rights himself, inserting his body right against mine, the spot Shaw had been headed to only a second ago. “You didn’t think I’d abandon you, did you, Schatzi?” Once again his voice is right against my ear and if I shiver or let out a rushed expletive, no one else seems to notice but the vampire at my side.

“You bloody, barbaric, eejit!” I groan, eyes flickering to Shaw who looks insane with anger.

Erik chuckles and the vibrations of his chest against my shoulder makes a smile twist at my lips.

“Well then,” Moira gives a smile, eyes meeting mine for a moment, “Please state your names,”

“Erik Lehnshirr,”

“Sebastian Shaw,”

“Mr Xavier, have you a preferred Choice?”

I lick my lips, I could just accept neither…I could become a professor and continue to live free. I’d have to live with Raven and Hank though; she’s always threatening to burn my books. The decision is harder than I thought it would be. My eyes turn from Erik to Shaw and then to the unseen crowd.

I could walk away.

I can go and never look back.

Moira would probably be more than happy to set me up as a professor.

I could just turn my back on this whole Blood Squire thing, devote my life to learning and teaching.

Hank would be glad not to be left alone with Raven.

‘You’re mine now, Liebling.’

My breath hitches in my throat. What if I don’t want to be simply content and living a placid life of back and forth? What if I want excitement? Change? He could give me that, couldn’t he? I turn my gaze to Erik – his eyes still sparkle with that dangerous, predatory light. It makes me feel jumpy, a good jumpy perhaps.

“Liebling?” Erik questions, the word, or his voice, maybe his eyes, is enough to make my stomach churn, my breath stall, my mind hiccup and scramble for sanity.

“I’ve Chosen,” I tell Moira, but my gaze is glued to the overbearing Neanderthal by my side.

“You’re Choice?”

Erik’s eyes narrow.

“Erik Lehnshirr,” I utter, bewildered at my own words. “Will you accept me as your loyal and aiding blood squire, for as long as I am able to provide you with sustenance?”

A sharp grin cuts across Erik’s face. “I will. Do you trust me to watch over you and preserve your life to the best of my capabilities?”

“I do,” I find myself whispering, completely captivated by the gleam in those amazing greyish-blue eyes.

There’s a rushed intake of breath from bellow and what sounds like a cry of ‘Thief’ from a familiar honeyed voice.

Moira sniggers “Are there any objections to this Choice?” I’m vaguely aware of Erik breaking away from my gaze for a moment to glare and bare his teeth. No objections arise, “Please repeat the Chosen pledge,” Moira states, if her voice has changed decibels, I hardly notice.

“I will respect your position as my caretaker and keep to my oath as your friend and helper.” We state in unison, I can feel his breath against my face. “Our covenant will last as long as either of us live under the laws of the Academy.”

“Please seal the Choice with the exchange of blood,”

Blimey…

Erik’s head lowers and I stretch out my arm. But instead of taking the proffered wrist, I feel the vampire’s breath over my neck and instinctively my head tilts. “I could eat just you up, Charles,” he whispers a moment before lips touch my neck.

What have I gotten myself in to?

I do not sigh when his teeth break my skin. And I most certainly do not enjoy it thoroughly!

But if I did…well, that’s for me to know and for you to figure out.

THE END ~ DAS ENDE

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed my skip down Insanity Lane :) Please be sure if check out my other fics on FanFiction (Miki Mae) if you enjoyed this one (shameless advertising). And sorry if I spelt Lehnshirr wrong – no regrets.

Translations: 

Co-written with Taiga Scarlett on FanFiction~ enjoy!

Warning: Erik/Charles (boy/boy), fluff

The excited chattering of students and the scuffle of feet drowned the corridors of Xavier’s School for Gifted Children in life. A lone figure, quiet and unnoticed, slipped past watchful eyes and past locked doors.

He found himself in the professor’s office; it looked exactly as it had been when the man had left. The windows were thrown wide, a light breeze rustling scattered papers. Papers strewn with neat penmanship and perfectly dotted ‘i’s.

The man felt his lips twitch in amusement, Charles hadn’t changed anything here. In fact, the lone figure felt a budding of distress well in his chest at the sight of a chess board positioned in one corner. The pieces frozen in a checkmate. He recalled placing Charles’ king in that position and was startled that all stood just as he had left them two years prior.

X-X-X

Tedious…time consuming…

Charles sighed and pursed his lips. He had to somewhat agree with the architect on that thought. He felt as if this meeting was indeed a waste of time. He had better things to do than hear the man’s personal thoughts on cripples. After informing him for the third time that there should be ramps and railings in the new wing, Charles found himself rolling his eyes at this whole situation.

“Perhaps,” Charles pauses, watching as the man is drawn away from his thoughts, becoming aware that Charles had spoken. “We should continue this at a time when you’re in a better state of mind.”

The architect’s face bleaches white and he splutters in fury, “Excuse me?” You’re the disabled one! “What do you know of my state of mind?”

Charles can hardly suppress the smile that slips across his face and has the feeling that he looks manic in that moment. Slowly he leans forward and places a hand over the architect’s. “Your face, my dear friend, is an open book.” Professor Charles Xavier finds slight pleasure in the way Mr Michaels face turns bright crimson in a blink of an eye.

Once he had wheeled himself out the office Charles looks to the right. “Alex,” Havoc rises from a neat, cushioned chair, quickly throwing aside an old magazine. “Reschedule our appointment for later this week,” He cocks his head, “Mr Michaels should be free on Friday at three.”

X-X-X

Arriving back at the school, Charles slips his arm around Alex’s shoulder and gracefully accepts the boy’s assistance from car to wheelchair.

“You’re getting heavy, Professor.” Havoc comments with a small smirk.

Charles lifts an eyebrow and gives an answering smile. “Or maybe you’re getting old,”

Alex snorts as he rearranges Charles’ legs in the chair. “Look who’s talking,”

They fell into a companionable silence as Alex wheeled the chair into the school. The professor lifts the architectural layout plans and briefly scans it as they walk.

Almost instantly he is bombarded with multiple thoughts, a weight he wouldn’t have been able to take a few years ago, but now considered comforting when he opened his mind to the school’s occupants. Thoughts of at least 50 students’ mathematics, biology and science classes echoed through his head; with an added sprinkling of romantic daydreams on the side. He’d become somewhat used to the constant buzz of Hank’s medical jumble and the pleasant hum of the music teacher’s mind on the third floor; so much so that he felt lonely when he left the school.

But for some reason, today the sounds did not soothe his addled nerves. In between lectures on cellular respiration and an explanation of Pythagoras’ theorem, it was almost as if Charles could feel an old friend’s presence. Erik, his mind supplied the name with a wistful sigh and made his chest ache.

“Good morning, Professor!”

Charles blinks himself out of his thoughts and lowers his arms with the architectural plans to his lap. A smile blossoms over his lips, “Good morning, Mathew,”

“Mornin’, Professor,”

“Good morning, Joseph,” Charles replies, turning his head and giving the teenager a pat on the hand he placed on Charles’ shoulder.

The children hurry off to class and a smile lingers on Charles’ lips in fondness. Barely a moment later Charles is assaulted with a familiar cry of surprise and a quick follow up of “Proffessor! Professor! Professor!”

The smile turns into an amused grin, “Susan, you sound chipper this morning.”

A small blonde girl spirals into Charles’ view and all but throws herself on his lap. “Professor, you’re back! I have to show you something!” She reaches out an arm and small little wisps of fire flames from her finger tips, she shoves them in Charles’ face. “Look what I can do!”

A chuckle rumbles from the professor’s throat and he gently folds her fingers into her palm, the fire dies with a peaceful sizzle. “That’s lovely, dear, but be careful not to catch the drapes alight.”

“Oh, okay! Thank you, Professor!” She gushes excitedly and with a dazzling grin she skips off down the hall.

Behind Charles Alex gawfes and, although Charles feels he should scold Alex for his amusement, he doesn’t. Instead he remains quiet as the boy takes him to his office.

Just as they reach it, a little girl – only nine – comes scrambling down the corridor, her dark eyes focused on her shoes. Charles knows how nervous she can be so when her eyes dart over him before settling on Havoc he feels somewhat warm and special for the light attention never granted to him before.

“Alex,” Clair addresses in her soft, sing-song voice and her eyes light up. “Uncle Hank wants to see you about the S-c-cer-cerebellum, ah… Cerebrum?” Her small face crumbles in confusion and she looks at Alex with pleading eyes.

“Cerebro?” Alex askes and Charles almost laughs at the way the boy’s voice softens and becomes reassuring.

“Yes!” Clair exclaims and immediately places a hand over her mouth; a chuckle slips past Charles’ guard and the girl flushes before smiling hesitantly, “Sorry,”

“It’s alright,” Charles assures, “Alex?”

“Professor?”

“I’ll get to the office on my own,”

“Are you sure?”

“Very,” Charles winks at little Clair and she looks back down at her shoes, extending an expectant hand to Alex. “Hurry along, you don’t want to keep Hank waiting now,”

Havoc slips from behind the wheel chair and gingerly takes Clair’s hand. As they move away Charles feels his heart swell at how the child moves closer to Alex’s side.

We’re doing something good here, Charles thinks belatedly. “At least for some of us,”

He turns the chair and begins to wheel his way to his office door. While he is reaching for the keys in his pocket, Charles becomes aware of the gap between the door and frame. His brows dip into a concerned frown. “I’m sure I locked up,”

With mild caution Charles reaches for the handle and pushes the door slightly ajar. He doesn’t want to use his telepathy; he doesn’t want to use his gift for some stupid superstition. Charles does feel stupid, he probably just forgot to lock up in his haste, he decides. It comes as a shock to him when he opens his door and finds an intruder. Apparently his superstition wasn’t as stupid as he had thought. It was…a pleasant surprise, if not a completely unexpected one.

“Charles,”

“Erik,” Damn if Charles could hear the loneliness and pain of Erik’s absence in that one spoken word.

Erik turned his head slightly and, although Charles knew his friend was looking at him, it seemed like he couldn’t see him. For the first time in the last two years, Charles felt insecure about being in a wheelchair.

“I see Hank is doing well, Alex too it seems,”

Charles forces himself to pay attention to the documents in Erik’s hand rather than the snide comments resting on the tip of his tongue. He could ask about Angel and the others, but he doesn’t, it feels too raw still. “They are,” Charles confirms softly and puts his hands on the wheels before reconsidering moving closer to Erik and folds his hands in his lap instead. He lets out a deep breath to calm the sudden thumping of his heart. “What are doing here, Erik?” Why did you have to leave?

Erik places the papers down and looks at Charles semi-detached. Charles forces himself not to comment on the man’s lack of metal helmet. Did this mean Erik trusted him? Was it a trap?

“Have you seen Raven recently?”

Charles frowns, his hands curling tighter against each other. “No, is she alright?”

After a silent pause, Erik pushes to his feet. “You can’t lie to me, Charles. Tell me, is she here?”

The frown on Charles’ forehead deepens and he shakes his head, his chest curiously tight. “She isn’t. Erik, what aren’t you telling me? What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” Erik almost snarls and Charles straightens as much as he can in the wheelchair in defence. They stare at each other.

“Tell me,” he murmurs quietly, feeling like nothing could break past that barrier anymore as Charles had broken through it so many years ago. What had Erik done in the last two years that a barrier had been re-erected to protect him?

Erik’s lips tighten and when he starts towards Charles the shorter sucks in a sharp breath. But Erik walks right past him and Charles struggles to turn the chair around fast enough to follow him down the corridor. A finger catches in the spokes and Charles curses at the sudden jolt of pain. “Erik!” he cries out in alarm as the man moves away.

Erik’s step falters, but he doesn’t stop.

“Erik!” Charles screams louder and pushes himself as fast as he can in a mad attempt to catch the other. His fingers sting from the traction and air rushes from his throat. “Please!” He doesn’t care that some of the classes will hear him, will probably come see if he was in trouble.

“What?” Erik snarls as he spins to face Charles, the shorter barely catches himself and stops the wheel chair in time to not slam into Erik full force.

“Please,” he gasps and presses a hand over his trembling chest, he looks up at Erik with wide eyes. “She’s my sister…”

“Raven’s fine… Mystique is fine,” Eric grumbles, he looks away from Charles.

“Who is lying now?” Charles manages to question with a shaky smile.

“Are you in my head again?” Erik thunders, his face tightening and turning slightly red and he looks back at Charles in accusation.

“I’m not,” Charles insists, raising a hand in defence, “But I know you, Erik. Please tell me, I don’t want to have to break my promise,”

Erik scowls, “She’s fine-”

“Stop it! Stop…lying,” Charles’ voice breaks and his grits his teeth. Why did this all have to be so hard? Why did Erik have to make it so difficult when it could be so easy? Without another thought, Charles raises his hand up to his temple and he sees realisation cross Erik’s face, a moment too late. By the time Erik storms forward to yank Charles’ hand from his head, Charles’ mouth drops open and he willingly let’s Erik move the limb. “Where did she go?” he asks in a daze, staring into Erik’s eyes.

“I said stay out of my fucking head!”

Vaguely Charles hears a door open behind them, but his mind has travelled far beyond caring. “Where did Raven go, Erik?”

“I told you not to do this,” Erik thunders, he shakes Charles arm with more force than necessary. “You swore you wouldn’t do that again!”

“Where is she?” Charles cries back in desperation, he hears the growing sound of voices. “What did you do, Erik?”

“Professor?” A soft murmur.

The man seems to freeze, his grip surely leaving bruises on Charles’ fair skin. After a moment he straightens, “I- I don’t know, Charles, I don’t know.”

Charles’ shoulders drop and he stares at Erik in shock, he knows that expression, that bitterness and pain. Erik cared too, it seemed crazy and maybe a little unbelievable, but Erik was just as frightened as Charles was. Slowly Charles starts to pull his arm to his head, to offer comfort in the only way he knew how.

Erik snarls and yanks it away, the pain quickly replaced by fury. “Stay out of my head! I don’t want you there. I’m sick of you doing this,”

Charles can only stare in silence, the sound of voices finally breaking through the fog of his mind. For some strange reason he can’t bring himself turn to reassure his students that things were okay…because things weren’t okay. His chest felt unusually tight and he recognised the sting of tears at the back of his throat. This wasn’t how things were supposed to happen.

We were supposed to laugh and shake hands, as if the past was just that, the past. We were supposed to sit and enjoy a game of chess, and I would occasionally cheat by reading your mind, because I know how you’ll roll your eyes and snort when I do that. You’d push my wheelchair around the gardens and make stupid jokes about my not being able to use my legs and I’d let you because you’re my best friend and there’s no way you’d mean them.

Slowly Charles’ teeth start to chatter, which is strange because he isn’t in the slightest bit cold. His chest rises and falls as he drags in air and he wonders for a moment if this is a belated panic attack he’d been putting off for two years. Somehow he manages to yank his hand from Erik’s iron-like grip and starts to wheel himself around the man, feeling oddly numb in that moment.

“Professor?”

Charles barely turns his head to acknowledge whichever student had addressed him. Usually he could tell them apart without having to even see them, but his mind was curiously blank. “Go back to class,” he utters quietly and rolls himself out the door, his wake followed by the sound of teachers ushering students back into their classes.

The sun hits his face and he swears it’s the burn of the sharp light that brings tears to his eyes, but even he can’t lie to himself. The path from door to driveway has never felt so long in his life, and by the time gravel crunches under his wheels his shoulders are shaking with the sobs raking through his body. His hands tremble too much to move him any further, so he stops and lets the pain flow through his every atom.

He hadn’t expected it to hurt so much, especially as the beginning had been rather easy to get through, but it was like all the pain increased tenfold in two short moments. For the life of him, Charles couldn’t contain it anymore. He was sobbing as he should have been when the bullet hit his spine, he was sobbing as he should have been when Erik left him and when Raven chose to follow. His body was experiencing so much agony he was sure he was dying this time for sure.

Charles lifted his hands and pressed his palms firmly against his temples; hating, hating his stupid mutation, hating his disability, hating having to be strong and comforting the whole time. He hated it all; hated having to be born into this insanity. Most of all, he hated himself for letting Erik and Raven leave, hated not being there to save all the mutants who he’d taken into his care.

He pressed his palms tighter and tighter against his skull until it started to pain, as if he could somehow shove his telepathy from his mind by sheer force alone. He was so tired of being trapped with this abnormal brain and could no longer stand the fears it awoke in him. A raw cry formed on his lips and quickly mutated into a scream that made his eyes clench closed and the voices in his head die down into simpering, terrified embers of their previous glory. The sound was so excruciating and grief-stricken that it could have earned him the name of Banshee.

Fingers curled around the wrists of Charles’ hands, dragging his fists away from his head with difficulty. “Damn, Charles, stop it,” the quiet imploration didn’t penetrate the Professor’s mind and Erik shook him slightly, “Quiet down, they’ll think I’m murdering you!” he said with the slightest bit of force, but again it garnered no response. “SHUT UP!” He tightened his hold for a moment before letting go of Charles’ wrists, he lifted his hands and gently cupped Charles’ chin in his hands, forcing the man’s mouth closed to dispense with the shrieking.

A high pitched whine passed though Charles’ clenched teeth and Erik blinked back his own tears of remorse. “Charles,” he whispered softly, his throat aching around the word. “Charles, please,”

Slowly the sound turned into quiet sobs and the creases around Charles’ eyes faded into a tired frown, his lips dipped down and his chest continued to shake. Hesitantly Erik leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Charles’ chest, his knees bumping against the man’s feet as he lowered himself to the ground. “I’m sorry, Charles, I’m really, so very sorry. I’m so sorry,” he repeated, his eyes burning at the sounds of agony passing just above him.

After several intense minutes of silence Erik felt the slightest pressure of Charles’ hand in his hair, he let out a heavy sigh, accepting the gently brush of fingers with quiet dignity. He had somewhat missed his friend’s gentleness in their years apart and it brought back fond memories he had stifled behind metal helmets and fighting. His eyes fluttered closed and he allowed himself to breath in the subtle scent of tea and old books that always accompanied Charles. This is home. It was silly and he’d still end up leaving again, but for this single moment Erik needed Charles as much as it seemed his friend needed him.

“You’re warm,” Charles comments tenderly and his fingers stroke over Erik’s skull in a way that has the man sighing in comfort.

“You smell of old books,” Erik replies just as quietly, although he fears it’s more because he is enjoying the kind treatment rather than the material of Charles’ vest is stifling the sound.

The slightest shaking of Charles’ chest suggests that he is amused and Erik struggles to keep an answering smile from his lips, he fails and simply presses closer to his friend to ward off further slip-ups.  As Charles’ fingers continue to stroke his hair, Erik finds himself relaxing far too much and the gravel of the drive way digs into his knees. He cringes and moves, immediately Charles’ fingers retract and Erik feels their loss like a slam to his gut, still he refrains from demanding they be put back.

Erik struggles to stand and places his hands on the wheelchair’s arm rests, using them as leverage to pull his body up. His knees buckle precariously and the chair rolls backward, sending him stumbling and he ends up nose-to-nose with Charles in a way that’s tempting him to do things he’d never thought he’d want to do to the man. His eyes widen almost comically and he is sure he looks like some bug-eyed creature, because Charles blinks at him once before he bursts out laughing. It’s a most pleasant and attractive sound after the man’s previous wailing.

Erik snorts, rolls his eyes and pushes himself to stand straight. He watched in satisfaction as Charles continues to snigger and clutch at his chest. Despite his rather red, puffy and tear-streaked face, Erik decides that Charles is handsome…in the strangest and most amusing way possible. He likes to believe himself a straightforward kind of man, but in that moment he wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted from the chortling professor, other than to hear that laugh for as long as he possibly could.

A moment passes and Erik’s grin starts to fade, though Charles beats him to the words.

“Thank you,” Erik stares at the man as if he were completely insane, which could be quite possible, but Charles smiles sweetly and closes his eyes for a brief moment, only to open them again and pin Erik with a penetrating stare, “You didn’t have to help me, Erik, but you did.”

Erik scowls, “I had to,”

“No,” Charles shakes his head, “You did it because you felt responsible. You thought it was your fault that I’m such a mess, which isn’t completely unfounded, but you didn’t have to do anything. You could have left me as I was.” Erik tries to speak but Charles talks right over him, “Whether you want to accept it or not, Erik, I thank you…for still being the friend I had so long ago.”

Erik’s throat tightens and he shakes his head, “You’re an idiot, Charles, always were.”

“I know,” the man smiles, “But you’re sorry you couldn’t be here to protect me, that makes it okay.”

Warmth, something between amusement and annoyance, lights Erik’s chest in flames, “I told you to stay out of my head,” the words hold none of their previous bite, they seem almost teasing and Erik for the life of him can’t understand why.

“I find it hard to not listen when your mind is practically screaming at me.” Charles says as apologetically as he can manage.

The other shakes his head, “Pathetic excuse,” but his lips soften into a smile, his heart feels full and ready to explode in contentment and he can only assume it’s Charles’ fault. He looks down at his friend and a new thought crosses his mind, “I’m sorry,”

Charles blinks owlishly and cocks his head.

“This,” Eric waves his hand at the wheelchair, “It was my fault,”

Charles shakes his head, “No, I was stupid to say that to you, you know I never meant it,”

“You did, and you were right, Charles. It is my fault, I did this to you. You cannot imagine how much I regret it.” Erik steps forward and braces his hands on the arm rests once again, bending to look Charles firmly in the eyes. “You’re so short now,”

Charles snorts and shakes his head, “Weren’t you the one who kept saying we needed to be proud of how we looked?”

“But I never assumed you’d get shorter,”

“Why does my height matter so much?” Charles questions incredulously, his eyes twinkling in amusement.

“Can you imagine my having to bend down to hug you every time you break down? My back is going to break.”

Charles freezes and for a moment Erik thinks he had said something incredibly wrong, his fingers curl a little tighter around the arm rests and finds himself completely unprepared for Charles’ next movement. One pale hand rises and grabs at Erik’s tie, which he had assumed would be appreciated attire in Charles’ presence, and the action has Erik slipping forward once again.

Only this time he finds warm lips pressed lightly against his. It takes him a moment but his hands come up and find Charles’ face, his calloused fingers trace over smooth skin and wipe away tear remains. He’s not entirely sure why he does it, but he breaks eye contact with Charles and closes his eyes, pressing his lips the slightest bit harder against the other man’s.

Erik feels how Charles relaxes and his breath fans against Erik’s top lip, he does the next natural thing, “Charles,” he says softly.

“Erik,” comes the equally quiet reply and the taller takes the opportunity to press Charles’ lips open. It might have only lasted for a single second, where they breathed each other’s breaths, but Erik’s mind buzzed with so much energy and desire it could have lasted a lifetime.

A high pitched whistle has Erik drawing away and snapping his head to the side, Charles’ hand slipping from his tie. There, watching them from the roof of the school with Alex and Hank in tow was Cassidy, all of them looking rather smug and amused by the turn of events. They’d been alerted that Charles was in trouble, but hadn’t expected things to end up like this.

Erik flipped Cassidy a rather rude hand sign when Banshee let out another whistle. Charles sighed and lifted a hand to his head before anyone could exchange further unsettling signals, and mentally willed the trio to leave them be.

Erik made a soft grumbling sound and when he turned back to Charles he was surprised to find his friend chuckling. “What’s so funny?”

“You are, Erik,”

The man rolls his eyes and leans back down to press his nose to Charles’. The shorter’s breath catches and Erik smirks, “You really are an idiot, Charles,”

“I could say the same for you,” he mutters and starts to chuckle again at the disproval on Erik’s face.

“You laugh too much,” Charles’ brows rise in a show of amusement, “You shouldn’t stop,” Erik feels Charles release a breath and he knows the man is going to make an attempt to speak, so he continues, “It suits you, must be part of your freaky mutant genes.”

Once again Charles takes him by surprise and grabs his tie, a bare ghost of a kiss makes Erik’s lips tingle and before he can do anything about it, Charles is wheeling himself away, toward the school.

“Charles?” Erik calls after him.

“I have work to do, Erik,”

Erik extends a hand and is satisfied to hear a yelp from Charles as the wheelchair rises from the ground and finds its way through the air back to Erik. “That is not how you give a good-bye kiss,” The metal contraption lingers in the air, Erik takes advantage and leans forward, he captures Charles’ mouth in a lingering caress, once again just warm breath and dry lips.

When they part, Charles can still feel the gentle pressure and it bewilders him at how much he had enjoyed it. “So that’s good-bye, then?”

Erik pauses, “For now,”

“Very well,” Charles smiles sadly, “Could you put me down then, Erik?” Erik complies and once again at ground level Charles attempts to mask his face in seriousness, “You’ll search for Raven, won’t you?” he receives a nod, “I will as well,”

“I’m not sure you’ll find her, she took my helmet,” Erik purses his lips. “She’s clever,”

Charles’ lips twist into a proud grin, “She is,”

“I believe she had a good teacher,” Erik says.

“And a good mentor for when the teacher was not there,” they stare at each other for a moment and then Charles reaches out a hand, Erik takes it in his. “Be safe, Erik, come back to us soon,”