seen from Serbia
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What weighs on me (X-men AU with txlepathetic)
“Excuse me, Professor...” The young man smiles to the headmaster of the school, and stows his books in his bag. “I’ve got some issues with my powers and fellow classmates and I need someone to talk to. Are you free?”
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“How is he?” Steve asked from the doorway, several hours after Charles had been settled into his room.
“Like he’s stuck in some horrible nightmare…” Tony said softly from the telepath’s bedside.
“Call me if anything changes, or you need anything.” Steve said, leaving Tony alone again.
he rubbed his thumb along the back of Charles’ hand. “Come back, Charles. Please come back. Just wake up. It’s a nightmare, it’s not real. Wake up and I can tell you it’s just a bad dream. That you’re safe… That you’re home.” he pleaded quietly.
He squeezed back when the mutant’s fingers jerked in his. “Charles…” he sobbed, leaning down to kiss his hand.
The telepath was spinning inside the mess of his own mind, his brain fighting itself. His telepathy had turned on him, the thing that had been so easy now spreading out inside his head and twisting his throughts.
He wants you to wake up for his own gain… Stay here with me Charles… you deserve to be stay here…
He fought himself, his mind fighting with every thought, struggling to wake and being pulled back down. His telepathy had turned against him, and he struggled to keep fighting, to keep going.
<No. No I won’t… I can’t…>
His telepathy turned against him and he struggled with it, but he had gone years knowing only it’s touch and it was hard.
It took three days before it was controlled enough for him to wake.
Tony could only lurk helplessly by the mutant’s bedside. Steve brought him coffee, and sometimes took his place so he could eat and rest. But Tony was very rarely away from Charles’ side. Every whimper in his sleep twisted at his heart, every twitch had him hoping that he would wake soon.
That third day was no different. Tony saw his eyelids flutter, and perked up.
“Charles?” he said softly. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, looking down at him hopefully.
txlepathetic
Well this is sooooo hard: Chelsea, trashbag, 19, English, BI BI BI, likes sonic, h8s Frozen, in a ambiguously gay duo w me and the random fact is that U FUCKN TINY
OH
SO DIFFICULT
HOW DID YOU KNOW ALL THESE THINGS
YOU HIGHER ALL KNOWING BEING
//BOWS
"What is that? Are there bandages under your shirt?"
Well, shit. It looked like Charles had spotted the neatly wrapped layers of gauze encircling Oliver's abdomen. He guessed it was his own fault for stretching enough for his shirt to lift and reveal the hidden white around his stomach, and he quickly lowered his arms again, feeling the joints click back into place with a faint pop before he turned, looking away. Charles shouldn't have to worry himself about Oliver's injuries. He was a doctor. He could look after himself.
"It's nothing." The words were muttered, accompanied by a slight shrug that only brought a wince out of the surgeon. Ow. Stretching and then shrugging with bandages on your torso definitely was not a good idea. "Just don't worry about them, ok?"
