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Charles sat pensively on the edge of his bed, the hotel room finally quiet and still around him. It was starting to pick up a dusting of blue as dawn approached, spilling slowly between curtains that now hung askew on their metal hooks along a metal rail.
In the bed just a foot or two from his knees slept Erik, quiet at long last, his breathing deep and even. After last night, the sound was a balm to Charles' mind, and it nearly hummed him to sleep in the minutes that passed. Five minutes, ten minutes. A half hour of mercy.
But Erik was an early riser, and the calm lasted no longer than that. He would have been the first to wake if Charles had slept at all.
Though Charles made no sound, Erik woke with a start, sitting upright in an instant. His hand was stretched back toward the headboard, and under its coercion three nails were almost drawn free of the wood, ready for another purpose altogether.
Charles didn't flinch, but he wondered for that brief second if his trust in this man's restraint was naive, as Charles was wont to be. Where Charles already knew everything about Erik, Erik didn't share that same bond with him, not yet, not when Erik had only days ago agreed to partner with him and adopt a dream Erik never had.
Recognition soon replaced animal fear. Erik's frame slowly lost its edge as he pulled a hand down his face. "Charles."
Charles watched him before speaking gently. "You've never slept in the same room with anyone before. Not since you were a child." He was struck by the isolation of it. Charles typically slept alone, but he didn't always. It was a pleasant option to have.
Erik's gaze was dark as their eyes met. He turned his back and swung out of the narrow single bed to stand on its other side, wearing a pair of dark flannel bottoms and nothing else. "I warned you."
"Yes, you did," agreed Charles, hands loosely folded between his knees. "And I didn't listen." He sighed, rubbing the heel of his hand over his eye. "I thought I would be able to help, but--"
"What did you do?"
Charles looked up at him to find that Erik's eyes matched his sharp tone. Erik was afraid. Dreaming in the same room as a telepath; who wouldn't be? "I didn't pry, Erik," he countered softly. "I didn't see anything. I only tried to calm you. I tried to persuade your mind to let go of its torment."
Erik studied him, still guarded, but he seemed to believe him. "And?"
Charles smiled sadly. "Your demons are strong, my friend."
Erik smirked with derision and strode to the sink in the attached bathroom. "Then we'll do as I said and take separate rooms so long as we're here." He flipped the faucet to full strength, but Charles was not so easily silenced.
Let me try one more thing tonight.
Get out of my head.
Charles stood up and came to lean against the door frame of the bathroom, waiting until Erik had shut off the water. "One more try, tonight," he pressed. Erik met his eyes defiantly, but he was trapped, so long as he remained civil. "For the sake of your health and the sake of my conscience. Please?"
He did his best to plead with charm, but the eventual softening of Erik's features, visible for only an instant, probably had less to do with Charles' persuasion and more to do with Erik's real hope for Charles to succeed. He was worn down. He'd always been.
"One more try," he conceded. "On one condition."
"I won't look," agreed Charles. He was pleased, even as Erik moved to shut the door, forcing him to step back.
Alone in the room again, he gazed longingly at the bed, but there wasn't time for that now. He turned instead to his suitcase. They had mutants to find and talk to, two in this wide city, and they probably needed him to be dressed.
* * * * *
By mid afternoon they were only marginally closer to speaking with the first of the two. With a gift like speed and a penchant for petty crimes, she was difficult to pin down, and Charles didn't want their first interaction to be mental subjugation. Instead they were heading toward her next rendezvous, as far as Charles could tell.
Charles slouched in the back seat of the cab to rest his head as the vehicle crawled through traffic, rubbing his temple with fatigue. "I wonder if Hank could design a portable Cerebro," he sighed. "That would solve her getting out of range too quickly."
"Or maybe we should move on," advised Erik brusquely. "Do we really want a thief among us?"
Charles smiled lightly. "Everyone deserves a chance," he murmured. "I first met Raven while she was pilfering food from my family's kitchen." And I'll not mention how I first met you.
"I believe you just did," challenged Erik, but when Charles opened an eye to glance at him, Erik's expression was just a shade closer to sport than to malice.
Charles settled again, closing his eyes with another smile. Despite their differences, Charles was liking Erik more and more. Those differences could end up being the key to their success.
He didn't notice that time had passed until Erik spoke again. Charles had dozed off.
"Did you sleep at all last night?" Erik had asked.
"A few minutes, here and there," Charles mumbled, ready to drift off again. He remembered the sound of it, the furniture straining, the fixtures whining, the window frame rattling around its panes. It was as though the room seethed to protect Erik, and exact punishment when it couldn't. "There's an awful lot of metal in that room," he mused, drowsily.
In every room, Charles heard in Erik's subconscious, the wall between them slipping in Charles' half-dreaming. He quickly put it up again. "We're here," murmured Erik, and Charles was almost sorry he hadn't waited another few seconds just to catch what Erik wasn't saying.
The cab pulled to the curb, and Charles got out, handing the driver their fare with one hand while suggesting he forget their conversation with the other.
* * * * *
When they finally returned to their room that night, having missed their target again, Charles was almost asleep standing up. But he managed to change his clothes, cursing each and every one of his pajama buttons and hearing Raven's voice in his head as she told him what a square he was for wearing the sort of thing his father probably wore to bed. He didn't fight it.
Exiting the bathroom, he watched Erik push down the bedding and sit, already dressed (or half-dressed) for bed as he was last night. "So what sort of experiment will this be, then?" he asked, and the question wasn't entirely in jest.
"It's actually a very simple thing," Charles countered, approaching and sitting on the other side of Erik's bed, though the beds were so narrow there weren't really sides to piece out. "You see, when Raven first came to live with me, she had the most terrible dreams." His voice was soft with the memory, and Erik was quiet as he listened. "I never knew what her life was like before I knew her, and she never wanted to say, but I could guess, from the way she struggled for peace at night. And though I was far from ignorant of my own abilities even then, there was only one method that helped her, and that was simply to sleep very near to her."
Erik furrowed his brow, gesturing at the other bed. "You were barely three feet from me last night with no effect."
"That wasn't close enough," Charles replied, watching Erik's face. "I mean to sleep in the same bed as you, Erik, if you will allow it."
Charles wasn't sure what he expected, especially from a lone wolf like Erik. Revulsion, offense? But Erik surprised him, and was instead quiet as he considered it, his eyes on the carpet.
Charles watched him, though from his angle he couldn't see much of Erik's expression beyond the edge of his tense brow. The loosely folded hands in his lap told Charles more, their slow restlessness like a graph of his conflicting reactions.
"These are no child's nightmares," he warned, finally.
"I'm no longer a child myself," Charles reasoned. "Shall we try?"
Erik looked over his shoulder at him, a heavy doubt weighing on his brow. It was only when Charles gestured encouragingly for him to just lie down that he finally did, on his side facing the edge, his arms folded.
There really wasn't much room left for Charles in the foot and a half left over, but helping Erik was important to him, and Charles was so exhausted he barely required lying down, let alone on a bed.
He took the pillow from his bed and squashed it into the remaining square of space next to Erik's. Lying back to back would likely result in one of them on the floor in an hour's time, so Charles carefully got in facing Erik instead. Not touching him was not an option, but though Erik lifted his head to glance over his shoulder at him, he didn't pull away.
"And you managed to sleep like this?" Erik muttered, reaching toward the lamp to switch it off without touching it, then rested his head on his pillow again. He shifted for comfort, but when he settled he was no further away. Charles' knees were tucked behind his, his arms folded loosely against Erik's back to avoid slinging one over his side.
Charles smiled, just far enough away from Erik's neck that Erik probably couldn't feel his breath on it. "It may surprise you to know that many people sleep like this by choice. I can give you a little send-off if you like."
But Erik was already asleep.
Charles watched him from this rare perspective for a moment longer, feeling his own wakefulness running out from him like sand now that he'd tipped over. Let this work, he thought to himself. It's the last thing I can do for you.
* * * * *
The next time Charles opened his eyes it was early morning. He could easily have continued sleeping into the afternoon, but Erik was stirring, and Charles must have sensed it.
Charles groaned softly, an admission that he was awake and unhappy about it, but duty was duty.
Erik laughed quietly, just a rough exhalation through his nose. He nudged Charles with his backside, saying dryly, "That's probably not a feature you sported with Raven."
Oh, hell. Charles jerked his pelvis away from Erik, involuntarily aroused in the night. His arm, which he discovered had found its way over Erik's side, seemed a lesser offense. "Sincerest apologies," he mumbled, clapping Erik on the shoulder in some awkward assurance that he did in fact know the sort of contact they were supposed to be having.
But he heard Erik make that sound again, that stifled laugh, and relaxed again. The bed jostled him as Erik turned to sit up, leg bent and knee drawn up to set his elbow on it. His hand pushed back his dark, sleep-tousled hair, then lingered at the back of his neck.
"I haven't slept like that in years," said Erik, finally, shifting his gaze from the wall to Charles.
Charles sat up, too, though a little behind him so that there was room. "Did you dream?"
"Yes. But differently." His eyes lost their focus again. "Like the dark had gone out of them. Something like that."
Charles smiled. It had worked. "I'm wholly glad to hear that, Erik. And it will get better each night, if you are willing to continue."
Erik looked back at him, seeming to weigh the sacrifice against the reward.
"All right," he conceded, and Charles wasn't sure if Erik's glance at the bedding over Charles' lap was intended or not.
* * * * *
Refreshed, Charles had much better success the following day. Even Erik seemed even quicker, even more alert, though what Charles noticed most was that he was in a more amicable mood. A measure of undisturbed sleep was a biological necessity. Charles wondered how Erik had managed for so long and in such top form without it.
Despite their performance, however, the girl would not be joining them. She was too distrustful of the government to form such a vulnerable alliance with it. Still, Charles gave her his information on a card, as well as the location of their compound, in case she changed her mind. She might not want to be alone forever.
"You sure that was a good idea?" Erik asked him as they walked. "She has things to hide from the government and now she knows where we are."
Hands in his pockets, Charles glanced at him with a knowing smile. "Her intentions weren't like that. If I'd sensed the invention of that sort of plot when I gave it to her, I'd have taken the information back."
Erik wasn't convinced. "Can you also predict her future circumstances? Or to whom she might give that information?" Charles met Erik's eyes as they continued walking to show him he was listening. Erik's expression lacked all of Charles' usual patience, but held just as much of his concern. "You'll see only the good in people until they're in your house with a gun at your head."
Charles laughed. "I was rather hoping, should that day come, that you'd be a good sport and protect me."
Erik smirked. "Just as soon as you told me I was right."
* * * * *
They spent the rest of the day scouting out locations. The only steady address of their next candidate, an insect aficionado, was his place of work, and he wouldn't be in again until the morning. By the time they discussed their way through dinner and took the long cab ride back, it was late.
Charles was just buttoning the last of his pajama shirt, blue-striped to match the bottoms, when Erik joined him in the room again, bare-chested and practical. His hair was wet from the shower and he held a towel over the back of his neck.
He stood there just past the bathroom door, watching, so that Charles eventually looked up from arranging his suitcase. "Something wrong?"
"You don't wear all that to bed every night, do you?" Still holding on to the ends of his towel, Erik indicated the entirety of Charles' nighttime ensemble with a loop of his finger. The baffled edge to his smile told Charles he actually wanted an answer. It occurred to Charles that the only reason Erik was wearing clothes at all right now might be for Charles' sake.
"You must not have heard the names Raven calls me sometimes," Charles answered as he shut the suitcase, amused to be amusing. "I'm hopelessly old-fashioned. I remind most people of their fathers."
As soon as he said it he wished he hadn't. He turned toward Erik to apologize, but Erik's expression was still soft, though subdued.
"Grandfather, actually."
For a moment, Erik looked almost wistful, but it was an unstable state for him, and he turned away to sit down on his side of the bed. He tousled his hair one last time with the towel and tossed it over the nearby chair before he pushed down the bedding and got in.
Charles retrieved his pillow from his bed again to drop it beside Erik's. "Well," he concluded mildly, getting in, "if a mod and a rocker can share a bed together, there may be hope for our world yet."
* * * * *
"Where's Raven?" Charles asks, looking back over his shoulder as he follows the blonde through the back door of the pub and into the alleyway. Raven has an uncanny sense of Charles' luck, and rarely fails to put a stop to it.
"Chatting up my brother," she says. "See, it's perfect." She backs him up against the old fieldstone wall and he almost falls, like he's found a break in it, but she has hold of him, and her body is warm so that he leans into it.
"Yes," he manages to murmur when she presses her leg between his and twists to rub her hip over his groin. "Yes, perfect."
He can feel her breath against his lips and her hip is warmer than the rest of her where she rubs him to fullness. He wants to take her hand and guide it there but feels constricted, his arms pinned close to him so that he can't act, but he can press forward, he can thrust against her, he can groan in the night air amidst her soft huffing.
He feels lips on his, just a faint brush before they retreat, and he seeks them out again, feeling sluggish but he meets his mark and they open for him, a gasp, a shudder as he presses into their contact, desperate for it, craving what he isn't getting. He finally wrenches his arm free and presses his hand down between them, needing to go further, needing her heat against him, needing it now.
He's falling again, he can feel the wall just starting to give out, and he starts, jumping against her, Hold me, I need this--
The thrill spun to a frozen ball in his gut as he realized he was waking. Its heaviness crept through him, paralyzing him with cold panic.
He forced his eyes open. Erik was staring at him just inches away, his lips parted, his eyes still clouded in sleep as they tried to make sense of the face in front of them.
Charles didn't dare breathe. His lips were still wet from Erik's mouth. It still tingled where he'd felt Erik's tongue against his.
No. Erik--
Erik's arm held Charles close, the edge of the bed just beneath Charles' side, and Charles' hand was still buried between them, fingers halfway around Erik's erection through his loose pajamas. He was still pressed so achingly hard against Charles' pleading arousal. Despite the frigid wash of alarm Erik still felt so hot.
Erik's brow furrowed. Charles drew a halting breath, the breath of his inadequate apology, but something in Erik's expression made him hold it, fluttering against his diaphragm. The moment hung in a haze, temporally indistinct, disconnected from the real world in the non-time before dawn.
Erik inched closer, set his head against the pillow, then slipped closer still, until Charles could feel his breath again.
This is your friend, your friend, thought Charles, but he could hardly hear it, such a small voice fading to insignificance under the pounding of his pulse. Eyes closed, he drifted toward the warmth of Erik's breathing and waited, lips parting, drawing air between them as though he could bring Erik with it.
They should stop. They should stop here. But he didn't want to--he didn't want Erik to. He stamped down his mind and reached for the dream again, but only its blanket of anonymity, its shield of forgiveness and ignorance of cause and effect.
He was hoping Erik would do the same. Hoping so hard that his fingers twitched between them, gripping Erik's cock, a reflex, an accident, an instinct.
Erik's groan was a microcosm of need against conscience. He pulled Charles away from the edge of the bed and the surge was enough to bring their mouths together again. Erik's tongue between his teeth sent a shuddering jolt of sensation down to the pit of his stomach, and he pressed his hips forward to meet Erik's, his hand struggling against cumbersome fabric to hold them together, to keep the friction where it was strongest.
He felt Erik's hand suddenly at his side, pressing his clothes down over his hip, and Charles did the same, tugging at Erik's waistband, shifting his weight clumsily to aid the process in far too little room to accomplish it.
To sit up, to do these things properly, to open his eyes any further: any of these would break the spell, would invite the scorn of the waking world, with its consequences and punishments and rules. If they never surfaced, if they held themselves under to drown in the subconscious, they might survive to the finish, and God, did he need the finish.
There were no words between them, no names, but Charles couldn't keep silent once they'd kicked their clothes off below the waist and now what he felt against him was Erik directly. The slip of skin on skin drove him far beyond his usual demeanor, and his grip was unapologetic as he joined them together again, rubbing pulse to pulse with the involuntary motion in their hips. He felt Erik shift, one hand taking hold of the hair at the back of Charles' head as he kissed him again, and Charles' gasped around his tongue to feel Erik's other hand up under his shirt.
He was lost in a rhythm that took him over, assimilating every detail of his being around and into it, his beating heart, his failing lungs, the soft noises he couldn't stifle, not when Erik commanded him like he did, fingers spreading over his stomach like he'd drive his magnetism right through him, his mouth so demanding, playing Charles' tongue like a language.
He was falling again. He pushed himself up just enough to free his bottom arm and gripped the edge of the nightstand behind him for leverage. It was the first sensation of the outside world, the hostile judgment beyond the bed, but it wasn't enough to overcome this; neither of them were. With this anchor behind him he thrust all the more recklessly against Erik, thumb rubbing them both where their bodies wept for release until he could feel it, the coiling prickle of the ascent.
Charles broke from Erik's mouth to clench his jaw, head pressed up against the pillow as the tension reached his neck. It choked the groan from him, but he felt Erik's panting against his chin and heard the rise in his brief, plaintive huffing. Erik's hand pulled the tangle of his hair when he moved it suddenly to Charles's back, crushing Charles to him as he came in Charles' hand, the trigger that sent Charles to follow.
The edge of the nightstand bit into Charles' palm through the convulsions as he fought to stay on the narrow strip of their half-dream. He saw nothing through tightly-shut eyes, but God, he could hear him, and it painted the picture vibrantly in his mind as plain as if he'd read it in another.
And then, gradually, inevitably, the only sound in the room was their breath.
Charles couldn't seem to find his, a lowland Englishman in the thin air of a mountain. It wasn't just the exertion, but his panic, which hadn't so much left him as stepped back while they were occupied.
No. No, no, no.
What have we done.
He kept his eyes on Erik's face, knowing if he looked away he'd never look again. He let go of the nightstand and prayed to the shred of balance that kept him between falling and touching Erik again for purchase. He could feel the evidence of what they'd done cooling on his hand, and he buried this against himself to hide it further still, not knowing what to do with it.
Erik's eyes were half closed as he met Charles' gaze, his lips parted in a subtle frown that tensed his brow. Charles warred with himself to let the man keep his silence, struggling to function without any indication of what Erik was thinking, of how badly Erik thought they'd screwed up, of how soon Erik was planning to leave.
There was no apology for Charles to give. They'd both done it.
Erik finally stirred, turning his face to his pillow to press it there as though trying to clear his head. He withdrew his hand from Charles' side, where Charles had forgotten it, to lay it to rest in the small space between them.
And that was all. Charles watched him slowly relax and listened to his lengthening breaths until Erik was asleep again.
Not daring to move, Charles resigned himself to the same though it hardly seemed possible, his heart still pounding in his ears, muscles still humming in their sudden idleness. He closed his eyes tightly, and willed his breathing to match Erik's.
Why didn't we stop.
* * * * *
Charles was still doubting that he would be able to fall asleep right up until the moment he woke up again. The sun was already risen, though not by much. Erik had turned his back to him at some point, but was still sleeping, and Charles took the opportunity to ease himself out of the bed, pulling on his pajamas from the floor and retreating to the bathroom where he quickly cleaned himself up.
Feeling childish to avoid it, he finally looked up at his reflection in the mirror. It looked no different.
He was brushing his teeth when Erik rapped on the door, and though Charles' stomach twisted around his ribs he opened it, toothbrush still in his mouth.
Erik padded into the bathroom to join him at the counter, reaching for his own toothbrush and making room for himself at the sink. He gestured to the space he was taking up with a perfectly sincere "Do you mind?"
Charles shook his head, trying his utmost to act normal, trying not to stare at him, trying--no, too late--not to remember his face against the pillow or the way he had tasted. As Erik carried on with his morning routine, the large mirror over the sink and its counter left Charles few places to rest his attention. If Erik was looking at him, Charles didn't dare confirm it.
Was it possible Erik had forgotten? Did he think it was a dream? Can't be, Charles decided with another knot in his stomach. Erik would have realized when he had to put his pants back on same as Charles.
He could only brush his teeth for so long. Charles stepped carefully next to him to spit into the sink, but he managed to bump his hip anyway before he could smoothly retreat again and head for the door. "I'll be getting dressed," he announced, and it sounded, to his surprise, like any other morning.
Once dressed, he set about arranging his things neatly in the suitcase again, listening to the sound of the water in the sink. They had already agreed to leave later that day, not expecting any complications (either the mutant would join them or he wouldn't), and aware of no others in the area. The timing was fortunate.
Erik shut off the water. There was a silence Charles broke noisily, purposefully, with the sound of his suitcase snapping shut, and then the door was open again and no longer standing guard between them. Erik leaned against the door frame.
"Charles?"
Don't, thought Charles, to himself, swift and involuntary. Don't bring it up. Don't make it real. I don't know why that happened. I don't have that answer.
But he turned to face him, voice just as open and patient as always. "Yes, Erik?"
Don't.
Erik seemed troubled, his gaze falling to the carpet.
Don't.
He looked up to Charles again before he spoke. "Raven's dreams. Did they ever come back?"
Charles smiled gently, compassion quickly replacing more selfish relief. "Not that she ever told me."
Erik nodded, but the way he paused told Charles there was more. His dreams were worse than hers. Charles looked away as Erik quickly dressed in front of him, typical and insignificant for their history together.
"Erik, if they should come back . . ."
Erik was already making swift work of his personal effects, having packed more lightly than Charles. He stopped, and looked up at him, waiting.
What did Charles mean to say? That he would still climb into a bed of any size with him just to bring him peace again, no matter what they'd done? That he didn't care if Erik didn't? That he was as devoted to him after scarcely a week as he was to anyone in his entire life?
"Whatever you need, Erik," he finished. It was as truthful as he could be with mere words.
Erik's gaze didn't leave him even as Erik quietly zipped up his bag, and Charles wondered if he'd been too forward. Erik picked up the bag by its handle and stood there with it, mechanical, pragmatic.
"Thank you," he answered, finally, eyes resting a beat longer on Charles before he swung his bag lightly in the direction of the door. "Let's go."
"I'll follow you," assured Charles, and as Erik left he collected his suitcase, leaving a larger than usual tip for the maid as he passed the bed.