#so generic

Erik starts and stares at Charles, who is studiously staring at his glass of scotch. There are faint lines of remembered pain on Charles’ face.

“Yes, we had servants,” Charles begins slowly. “And yes, we were--are--filthy rich. But... the servants didn’t care. They wanted their pay. Even the nannies and tutors didn’t care. They were just supposed to get me ready for school, get me ready to leave. Father didn’t care because he was always busy with work and Mother; Mother didn’t care because she had her parties and Father. I was just a, a pet, a thing to trot out at family dinners and then shoo away again once the adults were tired of me.

“And Father died, and... and then Kurt happened.”

Erik frowns. He doesn’t need to be a telepath to know that Charles is afraid to even speak of this Kurt person. Then again, Erik has always known how to see someone’s fear.

And then Charles begins to tell Erik everything. The whirlwind romance between Mother and Kurt. The way Kurt had been kind to a grieving Charles. The utter repulsion Charles felt towards Kurt, at ten years old already feeling the beginning of his telepathy.

The marriage. The introduction of Cain. The beatings.

The sudden and painful onset of his power.

Erik listens silently as the words flow faster, less halting, less frightened pauses, because now Charles is terrified of leaving anything out, of holding anything back, and even the introduction of the ray of light that was Raven was not enough. Erik has to rescue the glass from Charles’ trembling hands and puts it on the table, then, after only a moment of hesitation, he takes Charles’ hands in his and holds them firmly. Charles is stronger than he appears; his fingers are leaving marks on Erik’s.

Charles cuts off very suddenly after explaining the fire. Erik sighs quietly and, haltingly, raises Charles’ left hand to press his cheek against Charles’ knuckles. He has the urge to kiss them, but what if Charles takes offense?

“I’m sorry,” Erik murmurs.

“And it was all my fault,” Charles whispers, and Erik’s head snaps up. “I shouldn’t have read Cain’s mind, I shouldn’t have been such a smartass to Kurt, I shouldn’t have--”

“Charles.”

Charles looks up at Erik, a frightened little boy with tears in his eyes. Erik scowls at the thought. “Charles, it wasn’t your fault,” he tells the other firmly. “They were terrible people. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But--”

Erik rolls his eyes and stands, pulling Charles upright too, and hugs his friend tightly. “It wasn’t your fault,” he repeats.

Charles chokes a little, but does not sob. It enrages Erik, thinking that Charles must have learnt not to cry loudly out of fear--Erik was experimented on, held down and hurt again and again, but at least he was the sort of person who could grow numb to that for as long as it continued, and then be angry and vengeful when he was free. Charles wasn’t that kind of person, and he wasn’t free.

“We shouldn’t have come here,” Erik growls, stroking Charles’ hair gently.

“There was nowhere else to go,” Charles whispers. “There’s never been anywhere else to go. I’m always going to end up here.”

Erik grits his teeth at the despair in Charles’ voice, but he’s not angry at Charles; he’s angry at everything, everyone, who’s ever hurt his only friend. But there’s nothing he can do. So he tilts Charles’ chin up and kisses him softly, trying to show him that Erik, at least, will always be here.

I’m unsure if this was a submission or a conversation directed at me, though I’ll assume the latter (feel free to inbox me if you wanted this as a submission instead! orz).

Yep.  To me, Lat//Liech is what you describe it, Anon: the loser protagonist who meets Ms. Nice Popular Girl.  Switzerland is usually the obstacle being the “overprotective parent” but sometimes Russia is thrown in as the bully.  

Again, I stress there’s nothing wrong with liking the ship.  Hell, you can submit something for these ships on this blog, too! I’m not going to rage at you or go, “ZOMG!!1! YOU SHIP ?!!1! FUCK OFFF11!!” Everyone has a different opinion: but don’t use it to be a jerk to other people.

Hate the ship, not the shipper.