twentysomething

Fandom: X-Men: First Class

Pairing: Alwaysagirl!Charles/Erik

Length: 7300 wordsish.

Warnings: sexy times, the fact that this was written for rageprufrock, Charles being BABYCRAZY

Notes: I forgot to post yesterday, like a bad person, so have a long one today- and I swear to god I write Charles as a dude. Sometimes. It just never seems like it. Uh, kidfic. Yeeeep.


Erik considers himself no student of American geography, only to say they are somewhere he doubts is on any map, anyway. After an unsuccessful day of Charlotte attempting to find a fellow mutant, "Just at the edge of my mind, Erik, it's the most vexing thing," a smile belying her irritation, they are pulling into something inaptly termed the "Bluebird of Happiness Motel".

Being the third-some day on the road, Erik has become oddly aware and accepting of Charlotte's idiosyncrasies as they travel.

After traveling- hunting- alone for so long, despite the tremendously exhilarating nature of their trip, Erik is surprised how well he continues to get along with Charlotte. There's a confident, almost arrogant tilt to her head on occasion, no doubt due not only to her genetic advantage, but by virtue of being a beautiful woman with an abundance of means and education. Erik harbors no illusions about Charlotte's upbringing- she belongs to a class of society that renders her unused to the idea of doors being closed to her. But Charlotte also most likely knows Erik more completely than any other person on the planet.

You're not alone, had echoed in Erik's mind for days.

She is incapable of waking up without first, a cup of coffee, followed by a cup of tea. She flirts wildly and outrageously with anything that comes within four feet of her, particularly after a brandy or two. She will also insist on trying to match Erik, drink for drink. After the aforementioned brandies, if there are no other listeners, she will take his hand and talk about hitchhiker's thumbs and freckles and widow's peaks and other harmless mutations and the genes responsible until she passes out.

He would not hesitate to call Charlotte naive. But, despite the wicked streak in her humor, which probably stems from her sister, he would not call her childish. There is an ancient, dark sorrow inside her- no match for his own- but that suggests that she too, has looked into the hearts of men and found them wanting. However, where Erik draws a pragmatic mistrust of humanity, Charlotte adopts a foolish optimism that he- against his intention and better judgment- cannot help but find charming.

These traits aside, she has a damnable tendency to catch Erik off his guard.

Charlotte heads straight in to the "concierge" and asks for a room for herself and her husband.

"No reservation," Charlotte adds, cheerful and absolute. Erik attempts to not stare at her as if she has sprouted another head. The man behind the desk eyeballs them for a moment but hands over a key anyway. The moment they are out of earshot, Erik opens his mouth to request an explanation, only to be- predictably- headed off by Charlotte.

"We're rather far in the South, darling. They simply wouldn't rent a room to a single woman and man. Not a problem, though," Charlotte chirps. Erik has found he's already been beaten into a pattern of submission- he could protest, but nine times out of ten, it is simply not worth it.

Of course, when they arrive at the room there is only one large bed.

Charlotte just laughs.

"And here I thought from all their television, all American couples slept in twin beds. But still, no worries, we're adults. I certainly don't mind sharing." she says, earnestly smiling it at him. There's nothing sexual about the way she says it- none of the teasing desire he's seen her point at attractive strangers in bars.

He can't decide whether he's disappointed about that or not.

"No, I don't mind," he agrees. She beams brightly and disappears with her case into the bathroom.

Erik rarely thinks about Charlotte in the context of being a woman, mostly because while he abstractly trusts her to stay out of his mind in practice, discretion always seems like a safer option. But listening to her hum tunelessly as she takes her hair down, Erik lets his mind wander. Other than her delicate features and luminous pink skin, there is something relentlessly academic about her appearance. Her suits are simple, well-tailored things, that speak of walking into the shop and picking out the first thing that fit well. In combination with her innocent schoolgirl fringe, at most every bar they've been to, the bartender had stared at her with mistrust before serving them. He can admit to himself that there is an attraction there- nor does he think it's even one-sided- but he thinks that Charlotte, with her extraordinary gift, was bound to be a distraction from the start.

"Sorry to have taken so long," she apologizes, stepping out of the bathroom and Erik's train of thought derails catastrophically.

Charlotte's hair is mindlessly tousled over her shoulders. Gone is the tweed suit, replaced with a delicate, sherbet peignoir, decidedly not long enough to cover shapely, milk-pale legs, impossibly long for a woman who barely reaches his shoulder.

"Not at all," Erik finally says, too slowly, and decidedly lower than he'd intended. To spare himself further and immediate embarrassment, he heads into the bathroom for a quick, brisk shower. He steps out, chilled, but the room still smells like her soap and perfume and the entire exercise seems futile now. Dressing for bed suddenly seems fraught with choices and he's glad he added a pair of sweatpants at the last moment.

After all that dithering and concern, when Erik steps out of the bathroom, Charlotte is nestled under the covers on the left side, by all appearances, soundly asleep.

"Naturlich," he mutters, but he finds a traitorous corner of his mouth lifting, because Charlotte has a hand curled into a fist, pressed between her face and the pillow, murmuring quietly. He endeavors to slip into the bed gently, although his lack of experience in that arena leads to a sleepy mumble of "Erik?" Charlotte's eyes open just a touch, hazy and unfocused.

"Yes," he reassures her, struck by exactly how much he wants to draw her over to his side of the bed and kiss her sweet pink mouth until it's red and bee-stung.

Charlotte's eyes fly open, her mouth dropping ever so slightly open on a breathy little gasp.

"Oh," she whispers. "I didn't mean to but- you could. I mean." Her fingertips press to his chest, feather-light, and it's all the invitation Erik needs. It's the work of a second to catch the petite curve of her waist to draw her close enough to kiss.

Charlotte kisses like she's drowning, her fingers catching in Erik's shirt, her mouth fever-hot and welcoming. A drugging, syrup-thick wave of desire seems to thrum through his skin and he can't help but to groan into the next kiss.

"Sorry, it's difficult not to, ah project," she says, sheepish sounding, but there's a bold knee insinuating itself between his, even as she casts a coquettish look at him through her lashes. "But it requires a lot of concentration when there's so much skin involved and I can think of other ways I might want that concentration used."

"Don't be less than you are," he says, and it comes out more harshly than he intended when he thinks about Charlotte tempering herself to fit into a mold she was born to exceed.

"I always feel free to be myself when I'm with you," she promises, too much trust written all over her face. "Now, where were we?" Erik cannot help but laugh, because Charlotte looks mischievous and pleased.

"Stop talking," Erik teases her. He cannot think of a sexual encounter with the opposite sex that wasn't driven by drink or frustration and Charlotte's pleasure and amusement buzzing through his veins is something he hadn't even imagined to want.

I don't have to talk to talk, she reminds him. I don't even have to open my mouth to tell you how much I want you. A flare of heat blooms in the pit of his stomach.

I can use my mouth to do this, Charlotte presses kiss after kiss to Erik's mouth. Or this, She trails a wet line of kisses down his throat. Erik growls, tugging at the sheer robe. Charlotte just laughs and bats his hands away to undo the small, ridiculous pearl buttons.

"So impatient," she mock scolds him. Erik snorts, slipping a hand up the soft, chiffon skirt only to find-

"God," Erik groans, hand stuttering to a stop on her hip. "You were going to just sleep there, no panties?" Charlotte grins slowly.

"Normally, I don't wear anything to bed," she counters. Erik files that piece of knowledge away for later.

"Don't let me get in your way, then," Erik suggests. Charlotte snorts.

"Smooth," she says, but she's reaching for the hem of the negligee, pulling it over her head in one unashamed, whispering stretch. Her body is lean, but made of soft, rounded curves, and Erik aches to put his hands all over her. There is no real hint of a tan or freckles, just an expanse of perfect, creamy skin.

"Now this isn't fair," Charlotte complains, reaching for the drawstring of the sweatpants.

"No, it's not," Erik agrees, but he means something completely different as he flips their positions, giving him access to nose at her collarbone, suck biting kisses along her decolletage. "Fair would be having much more time to do this."

"We have all night," Charlotte points out, breathless and distracted. Erik smirks against her skin.

"I'm not waiting all night," he tells her, bringing a hand up to cup her breast, running gentle circles around her nipple.

"God, I hope not," Charlotte sighs, arching into the touch. "In fact, you could stop waiting right now and that'd be fine." Erik chuckles.

"Now who is impatient?" Erik asks, only to be hit with a barrage of more now wet hot empty more please more that leaves him reeling for a moment.

"I can't imagine why," she says dryly, but Erik is determined to take his time, after all. Just more quickly than he'd planned.

Erik obligingly kisses his way down her stomach, enjoying the tremulous shiver that he suspects means Charlotte is ticklish. His hands are broad and a little rough, but he tries to make them gentle as he holds her hips down.

"Where to begin, Professorin," he says into the delicate, petal soft skin where her hip creases into her thigh.

"I think you have a fairly good idea," Charlotte shoots back, anticipation thick in her voice, which is some odd credit to him.

"Hmm," Erik agrees before shifting his hands to hold her open and lick firmly. Charlotte shrieks. Before he can ask if she's alright, he's slammed with a surge of blind arousal that makes his entire body feel five degrees hotter.

"If you stop I will hurt you," Charlotte says darkly. Erik just chuckles again and resumes his attentions, abstractly pleased that Charlotte is so vocal- sighing, gasping, moaning. Her body is equally responsive, requiring him to hook his arm over her hip to keep her in place. The verbal things are all nonsensical- snippets of obscenities, fractured attempts at his name- and the mental isn't much clearer.

oh god fuck yes there so good yes fuck me yes comes across in a garbled, jumbled mess, along with the greater impression that she's getting close to coming. Erik's own erection is becoming unbearable, his own arousal augmented by hers.

"God, what are you waiting for? Fuck me, Christ, Erik," Charlotte begs. "Please, I'm dying." Erik groans into her hip, but cannot deny either of them any longer, stripping off his undershirt and sweatpants quickly. Her body is slick as he slides on top of her, her hands slipping into his hair and tugging him down to kiss him, hard.

"Fuck, you're lovely," Charlotte mutters between affectionate bites at his lower lip, running her hands over his chest and shoulders. Erik has never been comfortable expressing himself in words, so instead he just gentles the kiss into something slightly less frantic, runs his thumb in steady circles along Charlotte's side that makes her squirm.

Erik, please, Charlotte pleads and with a bitten-off curse, Erik pushes inside her.

It feels like the world has been thrust into the heart of a supernova.

Physical sensation is superseded by the far more overwhelming sensation of Charlotte. He can't think of any real way to process it, other than that she is projecting and receiving and projecting that- it's a barrage of information he is uncertain how to handle. Erik faintly hears and hears Charlotte apologizing and he realizes that she intends to pull back a moment before she does.

"Stop," Erik manages and Charlotte is saying something, but still going, and Erik slams a hand to the headboard. "No, stay." Charlotte gasps as the movement fills her more completely and it's the focus Erik needs.

"Don't be less than you are," Erik repeats, letting Charlotte in completely. Suddenly, it's manageable- overwhelming and chaotic- but manageable. There's a long, tense moment where neither of them move and it feels like time slows and bends around them before snapping back into speed as Charlotte moans, "Move, move, please, Erik."

Neither of them last long- they're too tightly wound for any type of control or restraint. Erik makes sure Charlotte comes first, burying his face in her neck, slipping a hand between them to circle her clit, hard and fast. Charlotte screams, he shouts and comes, a neighbor bangs on the wall angrily.

Erik feels boneless, drugged. Judging from her lazy, slow laughter, Charlotte feels much the same.

Oddly, he doesn't feel empty, like he might have, after that much connection, but instead, he feels light. They barely untangle themselves from each other before passing out, completely spent.

If asked, Erik would have to admit that he has never woken up beside a woman. He does think though, that even if he had, it would not have prepared him for Charlotte, stark naked and curled against his side.

“It’s too early, go back to bed, darling,” she murmurs, still mostly asleep. The curtains are just barely blocking out the merciless direct sunlight, leaving the room gold tinted through the fabric. Charlotte’s eyes are closed, her lashes dark against her cheek and her brows furrowed. Her hair is tumbled across the pillow, curlier in its disorder.

“Stop thinking and go back to sleep,” she coaxes and Erik, independent of her suggestion, finds himself tired and content to fall back asleep.

When he wakes again, Charlotte is nowhere to be seen, but the rhythm of running water and faint tuneless singing imply she’s in the shower.

He has no idea what to say to her- he would have been hard pressed to deny it before, but in light of the previous night’s activity, there’s no denying their attraction to each other. That it was amazing cannot be denied, either, but Erik has never- is not looking for a relationship- it’s never been something he could afford, and with Shaw so close, an attachment is… unwise, to say the least.

He does not allow himself to think of what his decision would be if there was no Shaw, no mission.

Erik is spared from further contemplation as he fishes his sweatpants from the bedclothes impatiently kicked away, as Charlotte reappears in the doorway, wrapped in a towel.

“Oh,” she says, surprised and fairly inscrutable, for her. “I must have misjudged. I thought you’d be asleep for a while longer, I was going to fetch us coffee.”

“I slept rather later than normal, I’m quite awake,” he demurs. Charlotte just hums and looks at him thoughtfully. He has no doubt that she could stealthily creep into his thoughts, and undoubtedly, the desire to do so must be nearly irresistible, but he is trusting her to keep her word to stay out of his mind.

“Well, that was rather ill-advised, wasn’t it,” she finally says and Erik cannot help but bark out an ugly, surprised laugh.

“I suppose so,” he agrees.

“So, spectacular as it was, we probably oughtn’t do it again,” Charlotte’s expression is faintly rueful, but the unspoken reasons- Shaw and their tenuous government alliance, first and foremost- are loud in the silence.

“No, we oughtn’t,” Erik further agrees and there’s a long moment where nothing seems so probable as immediately falling back into bed together, but it passes and Charlotte just smiles at him, exactly the same way she did yesterday.

“Shower’s all yours,” she says simply, before opening her case for a fresh set of clothes. As Erik washes the faint, lingering scent of her off his body, he spares a moment for regret that they didn’t meet differently, that he was a different man under different circumstances.

***


This is the moment he has waited for all of his adult life- Shaw, frozen, defenseless- ready to die.

Erik, stop! Charlotte shouts in his head. Erik, you can’t, no, you mustn’t, listen to me, please,

“I’m sorry, Charlotte,” he says, and as he’s reaching for the helmet, the only words that could possibly stop him ring in his head.

Erik, I’m pregnant.

The tableau is absurd- Shaw, still arrested mid-motion, Erik, stopped dead.

He can feel the truth of it, echoing in his mind- the faint impression of Hank taking a blood sample, so curious to learn about their kind, running routine lab procedures and being so, so surprised. Telling Charlotte days ago.

Erik’s mind is made up.

“It has to be done, Charlotte,” he says, and in a clean slice, so quick as to be painless, Sebastian Shaw is dead. Helmet in hand, he levitates himself out of the submarine.

“Erik, I cannot believe-“ Charlotte is furious, anger in every line of her body as she comes out of the carcass of the plane. “Are you happy now? With your revenge?” Erik nearly snarls at her.

“You cannot believe? I cannot believe you knew, you knew and you didn’t tell me,” he shouts at her. There is enough metal on Shaw’s mutants to pin them to the submarine.

“It’s over, Shaw is dead,” he spits at them. There’s a moment as they- and the team- digest this news.

“Killing Shaw was not the answer,” Charlotte says, icy. Erik glares at her.

“Stop trying to distract me. You knew you were pregnant and you still let us bring you here?” he demands. Charlotte glares right back.

“We saved the lives of millions of people today, perhaps a billion,” Charlotte’s expression is stubborn. “Tell me that could have done that without me.” Erik wants to pull at his own hair.

“That doesn’t- they don’t matter, you’re-“ he grinds his teeth. “How could you have put yourself in danger like that?” Charlotte sighs, angrily.

“I had no choice!” she shouts.

“Neither did I!” Erik flings his arm back toward the submarine.

“That was always a choice,” she says softly, dangerously. Erik is stopped by the awareness of shifting metal.

“They’re pointing their guns toward the beach,” Erik breathes out and this is it, what he’s been waiting for since the start, human betrayal.

“Moira, tell them-“ Charlotte starts, McTaggert already turning for the plane.

“It’s too late,” Erik says. “They’ve made their decision, they have their orders. You know it as well as I do, Charlotte.” He turns to the teleporter.

“We all need to leave. The time for fighting is done, stand with your brothers and sisters,” Erik tells him. The teleporter looks to the cyclone maker and Angel and then nods.

“Everyone, we hold hands,” he instructs. Cassidy, Summers, Hank and Raven run to join hands, Charlotte taking Moira’s hand, the human’s other hand laced into Angel’s. Erik firmly grasps Charlotte’s hand, and then Raven’s, and they are gone, even as Erik feels the whistling hurtle of bombs moving toward the beach.

They are suddenly in some opulent interior- one Moira seems to recognize, if her gasp is any indication- fractions of a second later.

“I am not done with you,” Charlotte says, still stern and irate.

“You are mad at me?” Erik says incredulously.

“I’m so glad we just saved the world so they could fight and get married,” Alex crosses his arms over his missing chest panel.

That derails conversation for a while- "We have more pressing matters," Charlotte hisses- which, dealing with your intended murder at the hands of two hostile world governments is somewhat important, but Erik can only stare at Charlotte. Eventually they come to the conclusion that if Shaw’s former team decides they wish to work with them- Charlotte earnestly, too eagerly, talking about a school- they should take some time and if they’re interested, contact them through Charlotte’s old school address at Oxford. There is a long tense moment, particularly unspoken between Angel and Raven, but eventually there is agreement all around.

“We need to get back to Westchester immediately,” Charlotte says as they leave the club. “But first, I think some first aid.” She checks them into a five star hotel with little more than Moira’s badge and a well-placed suggestion.

“This will be delicate,” she tells Moira. “We’re believed to be dead, which is both a boon and a problem all the same.” Hank is fussing over Cassidy and Summers like a mother hen. Charlotte has rubbed off on him, but Erik’s mind cannot settle.

“I am sorry to have dragged you into this,” Charlotte says, because you’re not like us, unspoken. Moira smiles, weakly.

“I’m not.” she reassures Charlotte, and this is all touching, but he really has more important business.

“I’m sorry, but I need to borrow my sister,” Raven says, all fake-sincerity, beating Erik to the punch. Raven drags Charlotte into the bathroom and all Erik hears are angry echoing noises.

“So,” Moira tries. “Do you want a boy or a girl?”

Erik really can’t express how little he wants to talk about this, with her, but his face must convey at least a little of his feelings on the subject, because Moira just says, “Right, no, yeah,” and goes over to help make Summers sit still while McCoy examines him.

He contents himself to stare at the bathroom door and think as loudly as he can in the direction of the door about how displeased he is to have to wait to yell at her.

I can assure you, darling, I would much rather let you yell at me than Raven, Charlotte’s voice echoes, warm and tired in his mind. Erik’s mood is not improved by the implication that Raven is more intimidating than he is.

It’s nothing against you. Raven is just terrifying. she assures him.

“That’s it,” he mutters under his breath. He turns the tumblers in the lock easily, despite the growing exhaustion weighing his body and his mind down.

Raven is comical in her surprise, all large gesticulations and dropped jaw.

“I’m not done,” she growls at Erik.

“You are now,” Erik shoots back and Raven opens her mouth to argue, but Charlotte simply lays a hand on Raven’s wrist.

“Raven, please,” Charlotte asks. “I promise you can chide me all you’d like on the plane ride back to New York.” Raven just harrumphs and walks out, pointing an accusing finger at Erik as she pushes by him.

“You’re on my shit list, too,” she proclaims, joining the puddle of exhausted teenagers on the bed.

“If you’re going to be awhile, let me get a pillow,” Charlotte says with a put upon sigh and Erik rolls his eyes and drags her into the adjoining room, slamming the door against five sets of curious eyes.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” Erik eyes a bruise turning purple on her cheekbone.

“I’m fine,” Charlotte sighs again. “I am sorry I didn’t tell you. I don’t regret the decision, but I am sorry.” Erik takes a deep breath and attempts to collect himself.

“How long have you known?” he asks. She purses her lips, then sighs a further time and slowly sits in one of the ridiculous overstuffed armchairs in the room.

“A day and a half,” she admits. Erik runs a hand through his hair.

“How could this-“ Before he can finish the thought, Charlotte raises a sarcastic eyebrow at him.

“How quickly I’m forgotten,” she snipes. Erik rolls his eyes.

“Stop. You know that’s not what I meant.” he says, more sharply than he means. “I- are you certain?” Charlotte just stares at him.

“You think I didn’t have Hank do the test again? I did, several times.” she says. “Pregnant.” There’s a funny quirk to her lips that Erik cannot decipher.

“You seem awfully calm,” she adds, before he can say anything. “Did your revenge bring you peace after all?”

“I am the furthest thing from calm,” Erik disagrees. “Peace was not my intention.” Charlotte scowls.

“Erik, you deserve so much more than anger-“ she starts.

“That’s not what it was about,” Erik shakes his head, because there’s no way she can be so blind in this matter.

“What then? You cannot tell me you think that was justice,” she bites out. Erik’s frustration bubbles to the surface.

“I did it for you!” he shouts. “I did it to protect you!” All the fight leaches out of Charlotte’s body.

“What?” she asks, soft, suddenly gentle. Erik tries to get himself back under control.

“I was not going to let my child be born into a world with Sebastian Shaw in it,” Erik finally says. “He is- he was- a monster. He would have destroyed us.” Charlotte stands and brings her hands up to cradle his face.

“We cannot always protect the ones we care for from danger,” she whispers. “You have to stop blaming yourself for your mother’s death.” Erik sucks in a deep breath to counter the feeling that some dark, tender place in his heart has received an unexpected and sharp blow.

“I could protect you from him. And our child,” Erik counters, because he cannot discuss that with Charlotte. Not today.

“I know you didn’t anticipate this, or ask for it, so I have to ask you now,” Charlotte says slowly. “Is that what you want? For this to be our child?”

It is on the tip of his tongue to ask what sort of man she believes him to be that he would not take responsibility, but Charlotte just kisses him once, chaste and kind.

“So many choices have been made for you, Erik,” she explains. “I will not be one of them.” He is brought up short once more by the depth and tenderness of her understanding.

“Take your time, I’m not going anywhere,” she assures him. “I hope you don’t think that I’m trying to pressure you when I say I want you to return to Westchester with us.” Erik shakes his head, still too overwhelmed to speak.

“Good.” Charlotte rubs her thumb over his cheekbone, thoughtful, before taking a step back. “I’m going to go let Raven yell at me until she passes out. I think we’ll end up staying the night here, tackle the airport in the morning when we’ll hopefully look a little less disreputable.” With the soft pad of feet on carpet and the click of the door, Erik is left alone with his thoughts.

He lies out on the bed, letting the ache of his body fade into the background. Erik’s never given much thought to his life beyond the destruction of Shaw, perhaps always assuming it would destroy him, too. Unbidden, the memory of Charlotte, late after a game of chess in the study, tipsy and happy, telling him about how she wanted to fill the house with children- as many as they could, and perhaps even then some. He had smiled at the idea, but given it no real thought- let alone imagined himself in such a place. Erik is not sure what role he could play- tethered to one place- to people.

Faintly, through the door, he can hear Charlotte telling Hank their first priority should be creating a Cerebro facility at the mansion. He’s halfway to sitting up to firmly tell them both that security has to be their first priority before he catches himself.

Erik falls back onto the pillow and groans into it.

His decision was made a long time ago.

I could stop you. But I won’t.

Before he can second-guess himself, he stands and opens the door. Hank and Charlotte fall silent, Hank frozen and awkward, Charlotte calm, but curious.

“You can talk in the morning. Come to bed,” Erik says, trusting her to understand him.

Charlotte smiles, smudged and bruised and painfully beautiful.

“Good night, Hank,” Charlotte tells him, casting one last glance over the room and its clumsily sleeping inhabitants, draped over couches and chairs. “Do try to sleep.” McCoy, rendered even more transparent by his transformation, nods bashfully with a small smile.

“Good night,” Hank says, managing to include Erik in his nod. Erik shuts the door quietly behind them.

He would say it, but Charlotte clearly reads it in his expression, mental prying unnecessary.

“I’m glad,” she finally says simply, stretching up to kiss him softly. He should be able to let it lie, but some demon of his conscience provokes him.

“It is- this is what you wanted, yes?” he asks. Charlotte smiles, but doesn’t laugh.

“Don’t be stupid. Of course.” she says and something tense in his chest he had never realized was a part of him eases. “You belong by my side.”

“All right,” Erik agrees, simple as that. Charlotte yawns widely, shattering the moment, but just chuckles and reaches into the closet to draw out a pair of thick, plush robes.

“Go take a shower,” she suggests. Erik takes a look in the bathroom.

“Come with me,” he counters. Charlotte snorts, but after she sees the enormous shower, she drags him in first. They don’t have enough energy to do more than help each other clean scrapes in hard to reach places, and once clean, collapse together on the bed. Erik just manages to get the blankets over them before Charlotte’s eyes pop open and she gears up to share some idea.

“In the morning. Sleep,” he tells her, throwing an absent arm over her body.

“Don’t let me forget,” she mumbles, already fading back into exhaustion.

“Mmm,” he agrees and is asleep.

Erik wakes up next to Charlotte, for the second time, ever, to muffled talking in the next room.

He hears a whiny, desperate “no” from Hank but less than a second later the door is opened, anyway.

“This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Raven says, smug as she leans in the doorway. “I kind of want to throw up.”

“Then go do it somewhere else,” Erik grumbles, and Raven snorts, but shuts the door again.

“We should get up,” Charlotte mutters into his collar bone, but makes no move to untangle herself from where her foot is hooked over the bend of his knee, or to stop her lips from absently pressing against his skin as she speaks.

“Before the children make a mess,” Erik agrees, but he can’t bring himself to slip free from her, either. Their bodies fit together in a way that a more romantic man might over analyze, but Erik just knows that it is good, deep down to his bones.

“They’ve ordered room service,” Charlotte groans. “It’s an obscene amount of food. We’re going to be eaten out of house and home, aren’t we?”

“Well, we didn’t feed them yesterday.” Erik reminds her, even as his stomach growls in support of his statement. Charlotte hums, a pleasant thrum buzzing into his throat.

“Terrible. Someone should report us to the Children’s Bureau.” Charlotte finally draws back just far enough to blink open hazy blue eyes.

“Up, Xavier, up.” she instructs herself fruitlessly. Erik finds himself needing to kiss her.

Charlotte practically purrs against his mouth, slipping her hand up to thread into Erik’s hair, the blunt edge of her nails scratching along his scalp. Despite the fact that they would be government fugitives if anyone realized they were alive, all Erik can feel is lazy contentment leaching into his body from Charlotte’s.

There’s a loud thump from the other room and an offended “ow!” from the other room.

Charlotte sighs, but he can still feel happiness radiating off her skin like residual heat.

“Up,” she says finally, dragging herself out of bed, her robe slipping off her shoulder. Charlotte tries to tug it back up and rub at her eyes at the same time and Erik feels saved and totally doomed.

He straightens himself up and braces himself to open the door.

“Okay, what the hell,” Cassidy says, arms crossed. “How come we’re still dirty and beat up and he looks like he’s been at a spa?”

“It’s called “showering”, you should consider it,” Erik shoots back easily. The food- and Charlotte- arrive at about the same time, preventing further debate. After she’s eaten, they send Raven out to get them clothes that aren’t brightly colored flight suits. Her smirk as she heads out of the room is nothing short of vengeful and mischievous and does nothing for Erik’s peace of mind.

“I don’t feel great about that,” Summers says, appropriately concerned for once.

"No one does," Hank sighs. Charlotte just claps her hands briskly.

"Well, yes. Showers, boys." she says firmly, pointing them into the suite, calling down to housekeeping for four extra robes. The three of them- like Stooges- shuffle and shove each other into the rest of the suite, and Erik realizes he's going to have to deal with them for as long as they don't kill each other.

"Erik?" Charlotte asks, solicitous, from where she's already conferencing with Moira. "Are you alright?" Erik shakes his head.

"Fine, fine." he dismisses. Charlotte is not in his mind, but rather he feels her on the very surface of his thoughts and it reminds him of nothing so much as holding hands. Erik's not sure what he's going to do with all this relentless affection.

Grin and bear it, darling, Charlotte whispers and Erik snorts and instead thinks about creating an intruder alert around the west side of the orchard where he could feel the fences rusting.

Raven- predictably- is extremely pleased with herself upon her return, covered in bags. She plays at Father Christmas, handing out bags with a completely disturbing smirk.

"The hell is this," Summers says blankly, looking in his bag.

"A suit. Give it a try," Raven coos at him. Erik has no complaints about the simple gray suit he finds in his bag, though.

"Raven," Charlotte pinches the bridge of her nose. Raven grins.

"It'll fit," Raven looks positively fiendish. "Also, you should keep looking in that bag." Charlotte just sighs, but keeps digging until she finds something that makes her expression turn positively sentimental.

"That won't fit," Raven says smugly. "Well, won't fit you." Charlotte just smiles and touches Raven's wrist. Everyone else is distracted watching Sean just laugh at the suit in his bag, but Erik raises an eyebrow at Charlotte in unspoken question. She motions him closer and wrapped in tissue is an impossibly small blue and white dress.

"Just a hunch," Raven says, when Erik turns to look at her.

"What if it's not a girl?" he asks. Charlotte shrugs.

"We'll just have to get one, then," Charlotte says easily, and oh god, they're going to be overrun with children. She and Moira and Raven disappear into the bedroom to change.

"Oh, but to be a fly on that wall," Cassidy moans. Hank smacks at his arm, clearly forgetting that he's literally a beast now, and Sean stumbles onto the couch.

"Um, sorry, but uh, also, don't be a jerk," Hank mutters. Alex rolls his eyes, buttoning up his shirt.

"If Cassidy had to stop being a jerk, he'd have to stop being," Alex says.

Erik can understand Sean's reaction, though, when Charlotte steps out of the other room.

She's wearing an indecently short yellow dress and white boots that seem to raise the hemline even further. Her hair is swept into her usual style, her fringe glossy and perfect against her forehead.

"Don't say anything," she warns him. "Raven is mad at me." Although, his opinion is apparently obvious, because there's a sly smile lurking in the corner of her mouth and Erik wants to put the robe back on her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, still stretching up a bit to peck Erik on the cheek, despite the heels on the boots. “Now, the airport may be a bit tricky, but I’m sure it’ll come out right.”

Erik suppresses the childish urge to simply bury his face in his hands.

The airport doesn’t actually go badly, all things considered. Charlotte wrangles them a private jet.

“You know, none of this would be a problem if Hank hadn’t crashed our first jet,” Summers says loudly.

“Yeah, thanks for nothing, Hank,” Cassidy chimes in. Hank just crosses his arms over his sizable chest.

“You know I can crush your heads like melons now, right?” Hank tells them.

“Shush, all of you, this is requiring some concentration,” Charlotte says, a hint of reproach in her voice, and they fall into line like errant schoolboys.

“How did you do this?” Erik asks again. Charlotte smirks and just tucks her hand into the crook of Erik’s elbow.

The pilot gives Sean’s already wrinkled suit and Alex’s lack of tie a unenthusiastic glance, but he stops and stares at Hank- although, in wonder, not fear.

“Sir, we couldn’t be more pleased you’re flying with us today,” he says earnestly. “Uh, “Love Me Tender” is my wife’s favorite song.” Alex chokes and Sean bursts out in strangled, coughing laughter. Even Moira has her hand in front of her lips.

“Uh, thank you. Thank you very much,” Hank finally says and Sean falls over, he laughs so hard. Alex drags him on the plane and finally they’re on their way.

“Quickly,” Charlotte hisses, sitting against the window, dragging Erik into the seat opposite hers. Erik raises an eyebrow, but the filthy look Raven shoots Charlotte is answer enough.

“What, you don’t want to be interrogated all the way back to New York?” he asks, amused. Charlotte rolls her eyes.

Moira assures the flight crew that they really, really don’t need anything, thank you, and finally, they’re in the air.

The flight is surprisingly uneventful. After a quick chat with the pilot mid-flight, he’s convinced to fly them directly out to Westchester, since “the “King” would really like to get to his friends as quickly as possible.”

“Why, Charlotte, how mercenary of you,” Erik compliments her. Charlotte colors slightly.

“If we’re to come home to an army garrison after all, I’d like to know, sooner rather than later, wouldn’t you?” she shoots back, and Erik just spreads his arms out in concession.

Of course, when they do get back to the house- after Hank having to scrawl a couple of indecipherable and doubtlessly inaccurate autographs- there’s an easy silence over it, and even with Charlotte casting her mind out as far and as thoroughly as she can, it’s as empty as they left it.

“I’m going to go eat everything in the fridge then sleep for two days,” Cassidy says.

“I’m going to take a hot bath for the next year,” Raven groans.

Now that doesn’t sound like a half bad idea, Charlotte looks positively fiendish. Erik swallows deeply against the sudden heat coursing through his veins and lets himself be drawn upstairs.

Erik’s not sure what gives him away the next morning, although it’s most likely the large, dark purple, mouth-shaped bruise peeking out from behind the collar of his shirt.

“Damn, what are you guys doing, trying to make a twin?” Alex says bluntly, his mouth still half full of cereal.

If he didn’t know it was scientifically impossible- as Charlotte must know as well- he would have a whole new set of worries.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Charlotte laughs, breezing into the kitchen. “Although, twins would be simply marvelous, I must admit.” Raven groans.

“I hope you’re happy,” she says, looking at Erik darkly. "I hope you're ready."

Charlotte just laughs again, but Erik feels strangely... hunted.

The kids spend most of the day laying in lumps on the couch watching Jack Paar and episodes of What's My Line?

"It's Tony Curtis," Raven insists.

"It's an old one, I bet you've already watched it," Alex says suspiciously.

"Have not!" she cries.

Charlotte and Moira spend most of the day in the study, making provisions for their "deaths". Erik feels himself at a bit of a loss. He hasn't had a formal identity since he had a number- he had dodged out of liberation camp as soon as he had been certain his father had died some months after his mother, from influenza. He'd traveled under aliases- Eisenhardt, Magnus- trying as desperately as possible not to leave a trail behind him for anyone to double back after him. Watching the two women making call after call to try to settle things- mainly trying to find Alex's brother, Scott- makes him feel strangely useless. But with no great desire to yell at Bennett Cerf with the children, Erik finds himself smoking a cigarette in the November chill.

Come inside, Charlotte thinks at him after a while. You'll catch cold. Erik snorts, but goes easily enough, intercepting Raven with a bowl of popcorn.

"I haven't asked you about your intentions yet," she says, half-threat, half-invitation.

"Nor will you," Erik replies easily, side-stepping her and heading back for Moira and Charlotte's war room.

"You better start thinking about them, though," Raven shouts after him.

The problem is, Erik doesn't really have to think about them at all. Erik has never met someone so much his equal, so determined to know all of him and embrace it, to drag him, if necessary, into acceptance of himself and his gift. He's thought little of his future beyond Shaw, but he has to admit, the only things that are clear are a child- and Charlotte.

"Have you had any success?" he asks, when he finally reaches the study where the women are sprawled out on the couch. Both of them groan in unison. "So, that would be no." Charlotte sighs, but she smiles slightly- I'm happy to see you.

"Financially, yes," she says, slowly, and the other half of her meaning is clear- no success finding Alex's brother, Scott, which he knows is infinitely more important to her.

"I'm going to go rot my brains with the kids," Moira eventually says after a long quiet moment. It would be a tactful retreat, but for the way she smiles knowingly at them before slipping out of the room.

"You've been very quiet today," Charlotte draws him down to sit close next her on the sofa, artlessly insinuating herself into his space. "Thinking?" He nods.

"Yes," he presses an absent kiss to her temple. He doesn't know how to say what he wants to tell her, so instead he just raises her hand to his face and thinks, Do you understand? tacitly giving her permission to enter his mind.

"I do," she says, almost immediately. "I do." She kisses him once, twice. Charlotte sighs, but this time her happiness is palpable, thrumming throughout the room.