One evening, Charles and Erik walked around the mansion, with Charles keeping up a running commentary as they explored parts of the mansion that hadn’t seen the light of day in years. Coming across the old ballroom, Charles grinned and pushed open the doors. Erik followed reluctantly, but slightly curious. Charles turned on some soft lights that lit up the vast, beautiful room. He found the gramophone with an exclamation of delight and immediately pulled out the collection of records that was stored in a hidden shelf. Erik lounged against the wall, looking surly but actually fighting down a great amount of nervous apprehension: what was Charles doing? Charles had evidently found the record he was looking for, and put it on. The soft stream of notes that sounded was lovely, but Erik couldn’t place the tune. Instantly, his attention was successfully diverted as Charles bowed slightly and extended his hand. A slow, soft smile lit Erik’s features, making him look younger; more boyish and happy. Gentle silver eyes met caring sapphire ones in a moment that lasted forever, and just an instant. Erik accepted the proffered hand, but with one gesture made it quite clear that he expected to lead.
Charles was slightly surprised, as he hadn’t expected Erik to know how to dance. However, he didn’t want to speak and break the spell, so he stayed silent and leaned into Erik’s embrace, letting his smile bloom fully where Erik couldn’t see it.
After what seemed like an age, but was really a few minutes, Erik finally asked quietly,
“What is the name of this piece? I feel as if I should know, but I cannot seem to place it.”
A very content Charles murmured,
“It’s called ‘Let Me Call You Sweetheart.’”
Charles felt Erik swallow hard, and then relax slightly and hug Charles cautiously closer to his chest. Charles was more than happy with the change, and happily snuggled in closer. The top of Charles’ head came up just to Erik’s eyebrows, but he seemed to fit there. It seemed right.
The music changed, and Charles didn’t wait for Erik to ask the name.
“This piece is called ‘Wonderful One.’”
The answering glow from Erik’s mind was all the answer Charles needed.
Charles, who has the infuriating ability to look charming even at three in the morning.
Erik, who moves with the athletic grace of a panther even when woken out of a sound sleep.
Though he hardly ever sleeps soundly nowadays. Except when he is in Charles’ arms, lulled to a deep and dreamless sleep by the gentle murmur of the telepath’s presence at the back of his mind.
He feels safe in Charles’ arms. Though he would rather die than admit it, he feels as though the world pauses, just for them, in order for them to simply enjoy the other’s presence. Each can hear the other’s heartbeat as it steadily thumps and makes its presence known, reminding the two that time never stops, and that these stolen moments are exactly that: seconds borrowed from mainstream time that must eventually be paid for.
Neither man was positive how it really began. But what each of them would remember for years to come was the countless private connection moments they had shared. A casual touch from Charles, communicating through contact and an affectionate touch of the mind precisely how special he believed Erik to be. A caring glance from Erik, speaking volumes about how much he loved Charles at just that moment. The special times when each would give the other a fleeting look, only to find that the other was doing the same. Those times they would smile, and if they were alone, Erik would place his hand on the small of Charles’ back and tug Charles to him. They would hold one another, each inhaling the other’s scent and doing their best to memorize it. And at these moments, Charles would look briefly at Erik’s mind and find the brightest glow of love and contentment that he had ever had the pleasure to witness. And every time, without fail, there was the slightest amount of sadness behind the joy, as if Erik couldn’t bring himself to completely enjoy the moment because he knew that it must end, as all things do. And it was at the last of these moments, the night before they would leave to save the world and step into an uncertain future that Charles said into Erik's mind,
- I love you, Erik Lensherr. Remember that with every fiber of your being, because it will always be true. -
Charles was slightly surprised, as he hadn’t expected Erik to know how to dance. However, he didn’t want to speak and break the spell, so he stayed silent and leaned into Erik’s embrace, letting his smile bloom fully where Erik couldn’t see it.
After what seemed like an age, but was really a few minutes, Erik finally asked quietly,
“What is the name of this piece? I feel as if I should know, but I cannot seem to place it.”
A very content Charles murmured,
“It’s called ‘Let Me Call You Sweetheart.’”
Charles felt Erik swallow hard, and then relax slightly and hug Charles cautiously closer to his chest. Charles was more than happy with the change, and happily snuggled in closer. The top of Charles’ head came up just to Erik’s eyebrows, but he seemed to fit there. It seemed right.
The music changed, and Charles didn’t wait for Erik to ask the name.
“This piece is called ‘Wonderful One.’”
The answering glow from Erik’s mind was all the answer Charles needed.
Charles, who has the infuriating ability to look charming even at three in the morning.
Erik, who moves with the athletic grace of a panther even when woken out of a sound sleep.
Though he hardly ever sleeps soundly nowadays. Except when he is in Charles’ arms, lulled to a deep and dreamless sleep by the gentle murmur of the telepath’s presence at the back of his mind.
He feels safe in Charles’ arms. Though he would rather die than admit it, he feels as though the world pauses, just for them, in order for them to simply enjoy the other’s presence. Each can hear the other’s heartbeat as it steadily thumps and makes its presence known, reminding the two that time never stops, and that these stolen moments are exactly that: seconds borrowed from mainstream time that must eventually be paid for.
Neither man was positive how it really began. But what each of them would remember for years to come was the countless private connection moments they had shared. A casual touch from Charles, communicating through contact and an affectionate touch of the mind precisely how special he believed Erik to be. A caring glance from Erik, speaking volumes about how much he loved Charles at just that moment. The special times when each would give the other a fleeting look, only to find that the other was doing the same. Those times they would smile, and if they were alone, Erik would place his hand on the small of Charles’ back and tug Charles to him. They would hold one another, each inhaling the other’s scent and doing their best to memorize it. And at these moments, Charles would look briefly at Erik’s mind and find the brightest glow of love and contentment that he had ever had the pleasure to witness. And every time, without fail, there was the slightest amount of sadness behind the joy, as if Erik couldn’t bring himself to completely enjoy the moment because he knew that it must end, as all things do. And it was at the last of these moments, the night before they would leave to save the world and step into an uncertain future that Charles said into Erik's mind,
- I love you, Erik Lensherr. Remember that with every fiber of your being, because it will always be true. -
