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Peter has Erik’s smile.
Charles doesn’t even have to read Peter’s mind to know he is Erik’s boy.
He has Erik’s tight lipped mouth - and it’s shape, and the formation of the perfect upwards tilt when it smiled. There was the bright brandishing of teeth in common, the crinkling lines by their eyes, the cheeks that turned into little apples, and oh, the dimples. The sweet dimples.
Erik didn’t smile very often, as very rarely was there a moment strong enough that would lift him to do so. Too often the heaviness Erik carried with him weighed too much for him to muster a smile. But there were still times where Charles had been blessed to see Erik’s smile, and not just one of his halfhearted smirks, or a quiet chuckle - he had been blessed enough to see wide, eye crinkling smiles, smiles exuding so much joy Charles could feel the warmth of it heating the inner depths of his soul. Charles avoided to pry into other people’s emotions, but Erik, when he smiled, simply radiated this energy that Charles found simply sublime.
But Peter — Peter was always smiling. Every time it felt like Charles was being ripped apart.
Without a doubt Charles was diplomatic, and an advocate for all of his children - often Charles did not solely see anybody for just who they were but also who they could be. He loved his children so dearly, with all of his heart and of course that included Peter. But it would be a lie to say loving Peter was easy. Loving Peter was hard most days, with the baggage of the lover he once knew written into his very being. Charles knew it wasn’t the kid’s fault, but Erik was still painful for him. In so many ways Peter appeared to be Erik’s polar opposite, but beyond his energetic, eager and enthusiastic surface there was so much of Peter that was Erik - and it hurt.
Charles had invited Peter to the school as soon as he reopened it in the months following the Trask, Raven and the Future debacle. He had received no response until five years later when Peter showed up at the mansion with bags in tow, sheepishly asking if his invitation still stood with promises of “totally getting his shit together.” He was eighteen now, so suddenly his juvenile delinquency was no longer juvenile - though Charles still saw him as the same pain in the ass though lovable kid who broke his father out of the pentagon. Strangely despite the fact Peter was so fast, it seemed his increased metabolism and speedy healing factor had ironically slowed down his aging which only added to the kid’s childish demeanor. Charles let him of course, though it had been a slight issue at first because he was at such an awkward age where he was older than all of his students but wasn’t old enough or skilled enough to teach. Though as soon as Charles realised Peter had slipped that he dropped out of school after his sophomore year, he had put the kid in the Junior classes with young Scott Summers, Jean Grey and Ororo Munroe.
So on the surface yes, kleptomaniac (Charles was still having to deal with cops showing up every once in a while and having to erase their memory because of Peter’s antics), ADHD and anxiety riddled, sugar addicted, outgoing Peter Maximoff resembled nothing of his father. But in the little less than a year the kid had been here it was so clear Peter was his father’s son, and it didn’t even take a telepath to figure it out.
There was small things, like the builds of their bodies. Now that Peter was training a lot more often he had began to build muscle and form, his silhouette had begun to look a lot like his father’s. Or how like Erik, Peter’s favourite juice was apple juice, and how when it was Peter’s pick on takeaway Friday’s, he’d choose Japanese takeaway like Erik had. Erik suited blue, complimenting his eyes and hues - and so did Peter, blue seemingly in tandem with his cool tones. Or how bright light made them both sneeze, which was a reflex that Charles knew was passed through genetics. Or the nostalgic parallels Charles recognized in the teasing dynamic between Erik and Sean that he saw in Peter and Scott.
There was also the family roots that could not be denied. While what Erik had endured due to his roots were far more dark and brutal, being his heir, Peter still had to deal with the aftermath. When dealing with his paperwork Charles had learned Peter was in fact legally a Pietro Maximoff - and out of introspection Charles had sadly concluded that Erik’s son hadn’t quite escaped the Lehnsherr curse of having to hide the truth of who they were to escape the hatred of this world. Peter was Jewish just like his father, and while Peter didn’t practice his faith formally, it still meant something to him. Charles would realise this during the holiday season where Peter took it upon himself to become some sort of cognoscente of Hanukkah - he and Kurt becoming beacons of festivity for the mansion.
It worried him sometimes, but Peter thought a lot like his father. He wasn’t nearly as radical as Erik, but Peter wasn’t as benevolent as Charles. He didn’t form attachment and trust as easily as wholesome souls like Kurt would. Peter was certainly outgoing and sociable, unlike his father, but he was selective with who he let in which reminded him of Erik. Peter was cynical, particularly around the topic of mutant-human relations, and often made made his stance known when discussions around negotiations took place. His jaded opinions and insights reminded him of Erik very much, but of course Charles would always have faith Peter would choose the kinder path. At least for the sake of his new family. Besides, Peter wasn’t an idealist - which was where he differed from both he and his father. Peter didn’t really have grand visions or a vocation bigger than himself, he was just there for the present moment.
But while Peter lived his life day to day with this humanist, care-free philosophy Charles knew he came with some baggage, as all people did. Charles didn’t mind that, it was what he was called to do, to ease wounds, but god damn, was it frustrating to get through to him. Peter was like Erik in which he projected so loudly, yet the specifics of his pain was impossible to decipher. Like Erik, emotion had been stashed deep within walls upon walls of other priorities. For Erik the walls were built from vengeance; and for Peter it had been built from thrill seeking. They were both extreme people, both very intense in different ways but equally as striking to Charles.
Coupled with the similarities he noticed in them, Peter’s loud and incessant projecting and just pure intuition - Charles had figured out the truth about Peter’s lineage only about a month or two into his residence at the mansion. Although, Charles still couldn’t get the specifics about his feelings and thoughts, or context or a background - for one because Charles didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, but also despite Raven’s loving jokes that Peter didn’t have a thought behind his eyes, Peter’s thoughts were fast, like that of a buzzing beehive that was incessant and messy. So Charles waited for Peter to come to him, but it seemed he never would.
Charles made small efforts. He would spare him little glances when he saw him in hallways, slide in an anecdote about nature and parenthood and genetics in classes, but never initiate that conversation. Charles says to himself it’s just in respect of the kid’s boundaries, but deep down Charles knew he was scared of what that conversation might entail. Still, he found himself growing increasingly frustrated with the boy. Charles really didn’t appreciate the ruckus of rock music that seemed to be constantly blaring from his room, or how Hank seemed to be yelling every other day for Peter to return whatever gizmo he decided to steal to fuck with him, or another untimely prank conducted in cahoots with his own adoptive sister Raven. So maybe Charles started getting snappy, calling him out a bit more when he lost focus in class, having a stern talking to with him about the skid marks in the garden, and even giving him detention after the younger students had thrashed up the playroom under his supervision, and said thrashing seemed to have been encouraged by him.
Altruism, connection and understanding, were all the values Charles held dear to him: and he strived for them every day. It’s what he wanted Professor X to be, an advocate for all - but Charles wasn’t perfect. After all it was only five years ago he was a recluse hooked on pain medication like a heroin addict, so consumed by pain and petrified of connection. Every day was a learning curve, and with Peter, Charles would learn that preconceptions get him no closer to where he wants to be.
It had started with a regular mission.
It was meant to be relatively simple, with a clear plan carefully drafted. Moira McTaggert had contacted Charles asking for assistance, having found the location of an FBI wanted goon, who was a kingpin of a massive illegal weaponry market, but who also happened to be an assailant of a group of bigoted scientists who were responsible for the deaths and forced experimentation on people like them, some of whom Charles knew personally and cared for deeply. Moira had promised they would have interview access to the man in return for their help. He brought along Alex, Hank, Jean and Peter for the mission - Alex and Hank on the offense, Jean and Peter on the defense whilst Charles disabled and froze the target to smoothly transfer to the FBI van where Moira and a colleague were waiting outside.
It had been going so well — the security system had been easily dismantled by Hank and Alex, the computerized guns and shields set up easily destroyed by Jean, leaving Charles a perfect opportunity to disable the target. However as Hank handcuffed and lifted the target, a deep feeling of dread overwhelmed Charles as he realised Peter had been nowhere to be found and in fact, he doesn’t remember where they had lost him. Charles was barely able to vocalize his concerns when the terrible sound of a pin dropping was heard, but before Charles could even see or hear anything to follow - a blur of silver zoomed by him and he was met with the nauseating, whiplash inducing force and he was suddenly outside the warehouse. He looked bewilderedly around him, to find Hank looking shellshocked with the target still in his arms, Jean sitting equally as shocked on the floor and Alex falling over himself.
And then there was the exploding, burning building in front of his eyes.
“What..” Hank started.
Peter, carrying two other men wrapped tightly in mouldy curtains like he was just taking out the trash, appeared before them with the most innocent yet somehow most shit-eating grin possible to man, “They were doing a buy one get two free deal.”
“Peter..” Charles began.
Moira jumped out of the car and rushed over to the team, “Is everyone okay?! What happened?!”
Peter waved his hands, “Let me explain!”
“Okay, so the mission was going perfectly to plan right? But like, it was going.. too perfectly to plan, and like, that’s totally suspicious I think. I mean, everything that can go wrong will go wrong, or something, is that how it goes? Anyway, Jean totally had it under control, I mean, she’s definitely the most badass of like, anyone, uh - no offense guys, but she had it! So I went exploring, you know, scout out the place - and I, I see this like room right? It’s definitely some sort of living quarters, and I shit you not, there are THREE mattresses instead of one, and I’m like, holy shit, the guy has pals. And the worst thing? The placr is littered with this vile, disgusting swastika, fascist propaganda bullshit and I know we gotta find these guys. Then I’m looking around, and I find the slimy dickasses and they’re heading down this secret back way - and I’m like, ‘hey, stinky wet sock and crusty hemorrhoid, I see you!’”
Peter went a bit red and clears his throat, “Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have called their attention, but like, tweedle dum goes all bananas and just tries to take everyone out and drops this motherfucking grenade! Anyway, I got you all out, and I got these fuckers too, so it all worked out in the end right?”
“Hank, take everybody back into the jet, let me just handle things with Moira.”
Charles pretended he didn’t see Peter’s face fall. Instead as the other mutants pile back onto the x jet, Charles has a word with Moira who assures him that the FBI are prepared for the unprepared like this, and that she had already had backup in the vicinity to deal with the aftermath. She was very thankful for the two surprise prisoners - who she immediately recognized as also on their wanted list. Charles could sense that if this were another, less-tolerant agent they wouldn’t be getting away with this as easily as they were - so he counts his lucky stars that for now, they are okay.
As he wheeled back towards the X Jet, Charles couldn’t help but feel a deep frustration festering within him. There is something off about the way his thoughts and emotion flow in him, and something inside of him knows it roots from something he does not like to admit. Charles as an advocate should not be feeling this resentment for the humans - when his ethos was built on unity and a fundamental understanding of all, but he was so tired. He was tired of always walking on eggshells when it came to human relations, tired of always convincing and proclaiming - tired of always being the bigger man. Always.
A little voice in his head taunts him that Erik was right.
But Charles’ dream was just too important. It was too important to him that he had lost so much. In his pursuit of his dream for all, Charles had lost his dream for himself. A love that was entirely his own, that would belong to him, and only him. He can’t face the horrible possibility that he sacrificed such a love for nothing. And while he knew in his core that peace, and love, was an expedition necessary and vital to both mankind and mutantkind - the longing deep in his heart still stung.
And to see the ghost of a smile he had wished to devote his life to was just so painful.
A while into their journey home, Charles realises in his angst he had forgotten to do the traditional review of the mission, which had been put into place for the benefit of student X Men - in this case being Jean and Peter. He clears his throat, turning his head towards the back of the jet where Alex, Peter and Jean sat so they could see him.
“I’m pleased to say I felt this was a successful mission. We accomplished what we were set out to do despite unprecedented obstacles. Alex, I am very impressed you and Hank are finally working together. It’s been a long time coming,” Charles says lightheartedly.
Alex scoffs, “Don’t get used to it. I was only being soft for the children.”
“We’re not all children!” Peter protests defiantly, the sort of headstrong that was just so Erik.
Charles swallows, averting his attention to Jean who beams at what he says, “Jean, remarkable improvement. I know you’ve expressed difficulty in multitasking, but I can tell you’ve been practicing and your reactions were seamless.”
His eyes meet Peter’s for a moment, and finding that it was just so much right now, Charles turned his head back towards the front of the jet, focusing instead on the sky they flew in.
“Peter, you acted recklessly tonight. We were lucky that the odds were in our favour this time, but you would know that patience for those like us is never guaranteed. I expect more from you,” Charles scolds.
“More from me? Dude, I literally just saved all of you from an exploding building! Again!” Peter retaliated defensively.
“A building that exploded because of you,” Charles points out.
“Because of me?! Right, and it wasn’t the Nazi tweedle dum and tweedle dee,” Peter scoffs.
“Peter, provoking the enemy is incredibly reckless, especially given that you were alone and had snuck off. Frankly I am-“
“Oh my fucking god, man, just say you don’t like me and call it a day!”
The entire jet falls silent.
“Peter,” Charles starts weakly, his heart now suddenly very heavy.
Peter zooms to the furthest back seat as he can,and when he’s more than just a blur he has his headphones on and he stares at his Walkman like it is the most interesting thing in the world. If he hears Charles he is definitely not responding to it.
“Fuck,” Charles curses under his breath.
Charles tries to sense the feeling around him, and as he wades through the depths of discomfort from his fellow passengers he finds himself finally in the vicinity of Peter’s thoughts - and all he hears is rapid buzzing that sounds like static.
As expected Peter zooms out of the jet the moment the doors started to come down. Charles watches as the silver blur disappears beyond his sight and lets out a heavy sigh. “Jean, if you can get to him at all, please make sure he’s okay,” Charles asks somberly, pinching the bridge of his nose. She nods with a sympathetic smile, and quickens her pace and heads off.
“He’ll come around,” Alex assures, walking side by side with Charles as he wheels down the ramp and back inside the mansion.
Charles trusts Alex, and he knows Alex is a friend of Peter’s, but the guilt seemed to eat away at his rationale. “I worry I’ve done irreversible damage,” Charles admits.
“Awh, come on. You’re being a bit dramatic. Students breakdown every once in a while and you always get them back. Remember how pissed Sean was when Erik shoved him off that Satellite dish?” Alex laughs fondly at the memory, his eyes darkening once reality sets back in, but with a swallow he covers it up with a gentle smile, “The point is, all was forgiven in the end. I know it’s weird because it’s Peter, and he’s so.. not emotional, but he’s just like any other kid. Surprisingly.”
Charles offers Alex a smile, nodding, “You’re right Alex. I’ll talk to him. I hope I can get through to him.”
Charles doesn’t want to drive another one away.
Sensing an aura of racing, clustered thoughts and tormented confusion, Charles is led to the front of the mansion, to the parapet overhanging the woods where Erik had moved the satellite dish.
Ghosts of fond memories all seem to greet him now. There is something nostalgic about an inky sky, flecked with white paintbrush splashed stars, a gentle spring breeze, and the smell of oak trees. As Charles approaches the boy in question, it is clear Peter knows of his presence. He says and does nothing to acknowledge it.
Peter is sitting atop the ledge, legs dangling over the drop. The parental side of Charles is screaming at Peter to get off in case he fall, but Charles has the feeling Peter just needs him to be.. Charles.
He glances at Peter who looks off into the woods, brow furrowed, clearly deep in thought - he was being so loud, and yet everything he could sense was so tangled up and.. overwhelmed. So Charles gives him a moment, and just watches the view with him for a few minutes. Charles can’t help but stare at the satellite dish he had helped Erik learn to move, and he remembers the moment that followed. Feeling his pain, and his joy, and watching a wholly, sincerely, lost man find the light to find his way again was one of the most pivotal and monumental moments of his life. It had been one of those precious moments with Erik- that joyous, scintillating smile that felt like a dark sky alight with fireworks and comets and bewitching moonlight. Peter had inherited this beautiful thing, and Charles realises that seeing it didn’t have to hurt.
“Look, man, uh - Professor, I’m sorry,” Peter breaks the silence.
“Looking back at it now I probably could’ve handled it better, and I shouldn’t have snapped like that back at the jet, I just,” Peter makes a distressed noise, almost like a whine, burying his face as his hands, “I know I’m an asshole, Professor, I-“
“No, Peter, that is not true, you are not remotely a bad person, I-,” Charles cuts in.
“Professor, just listen, okay? Like, I am a massive pain in the ass, there’s just no denying that. I know I’m difficult, I know, trust me. And like, I’m used to this you know? I’m used to disappointing adults. I’ve always been like, a problem, and that’s like, always been totally fine with me, I’ve been okay with it that way,” Peter pauses and pulls his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Now I’m finding myself wanting more.”
Charles frowns, “Peter, you are not a problem by any means. You are a deserving person of love, and have every right to want better-“
“Woah, hot wheels, stop that.” Peter sighs loudly and hides his face in his knees, “I’m sorry, I can’t.. This feels so weird, man. I can’t do this kind of thing. It’s just so totally lame.”
“Your feelings, are not ‘totally lame’, you are deserving of praise and support,” Charles confirms.
“I’m not even upset about today anymore, I don’t even think I was actually upset at it to begin with,” Peter admits, face still hidden.
“Oh?” Charles questions, “You have to tell me what’s on your mind. It won’t go away if you don’t face it.”
“I don’t have to tell you for you to know,” Peter jokes lightly. It’s such an Erik move.
“I don’t like to intrude where I have not been given permission to,” Charles answers.
Peter scoffs, bringing his head back up and staring right back ahead of him.
“I know you know. About me,” Peter says next. He looks, and sounds so small.
“About my father. About Magneto,” He finishes, saying it so casually it feels like Charles is having whiplash from such a still moment.
“I..” Charles stutters.
“I don’t like, even care if you snooped through my head really, snoopers gonna snoop, am I right? But it’s just.. it really wasn’t cool that you knew, all this time, and you never like, talked to me about it. I know I should’ve gone to you first, and I can’t expect you to do all the work for me, but like, it’s.. really hard for me, to do that lame shit and I don’t know.. it just made me feel like, you didn’t want me here or something, or that I don’t.. belong here,” Peter rambles vulnerably, voice growing increasingly tight from shame, unable to even look away from his fidgeting hands and nowhere near Charles’ vicinity.
Charles can’t help but coo and rolls closer to the ledge and reaches for to gently place a hand on Peter’s arm, though it was a bit of a hard reach. That didn’t matter though, Charles was more concerned with getting through to him at last. To Charles’s immense relief Peter didn’t flinch or tense, and leaned against his touch slightly.
“Peter, of course you belong here. This is your home. Please let it be. I’m so terribly sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t wanted here. I care for you very much, and I’m sorry I haven’t been patient with you. I want you to have faith in me as I have faith in you, even if I haven’t shown that.”
Charles sighs, “I’ve let you down Peter. I acknowledge it isn’t fair for you. Unlike your classmates, when we first met I was a man I am not proud of. You of all the students would know best that I am deeply flawed. These last five years I have been trying very hard to become somebody I like to be again. I’m sorry I haven’t been that for you.”
“It is cliché, I know, but all my students are my children. I see you truly as a son, Peter, and nothing will ever get me to stop caring for you.”
“That must hurt.”
“Sorry?”
“Viewing me as a son.”
Charles’s heart stings a bit.
“Peter, anybody in their right mind would be proud to have you as a s-“
“I know it must hurt you. I know it hurts you to look at me.”
Charles is stunned silent. The boy, like Erik has managed to stun him with a side to him that he had not anticipated. Emotion was not a priority in either of the men’s lives, but they were a lot more receptive to feeling than Charles would have imagined.
Peter sighs and pulls himself down from the ledge, sitting down on the ground, leaning his head against the railing and pulling his knees up to his chest so he was now beneath Charles rather than above him. He was in better reach though.
“I know you love him. My dad,” Peter confesses, dropping this bomb between them but it doesn’t detonate.
“I..” Charles chokes.
“Oh, come on, Chuck. I’m not the brightest but I saw how you looked at him. I see your eyes when you talk about him. Hank talks you know, he told me how Japanese was Erik’s favourite takeaway too. And I think about how you’d flinch when I suggested it. And the photo frame of you two in your bedroom isn’t subtle either. And I know I shouldn’t be snooping in your room but you can give me detention later. I’m not in the mood for it right now.”
Charles is quiet for a while.
“Yes. I love him,” Charles admits in what is barely a whisper. “Your father is the great love of my life.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Professor,” Peter expressed hoarsely, voice suspiciously tight.
“Peter..”
“I’m not really a sentimental guy, like, I pull pranks on people and I can be mean, and I’m not as righteous or moral as most people here and frankly Chuck, I don’t give a damn what other think of me but..” He swallows. “I care about what people I care about think of me, and.. like, this is so lame, but I think I’ve started to care, and.. I don’t want to be disappointing anymore. I don’t want to keep being a loser,” Peter revealed, voice wobbly and unsteady - as if his voice were an unconfident tight rope walker.
“It’s just, I know what Magneto was, is, to you, and.. either way somebody gets hurt. It’s either I’m too much like him, and it brings you painful memories, hell I could even become an enemy to you. Or.. what if I never amount to even half of what he was? What if I’m not him enough? Then I disappoint again. I want to be good, for people, and I..”
Peter bit down on his lip as tears threaten to slip from his eyes, leg shaking rapidly in anxiety, “I want to be more than I am. More than.. just this.”
Charles turned his wheelchair, moving forward to gently take Peter’s chin and directed his face towards his, looking at him with softness and a tender, warm affection. “Peter, son, look at me. There is so much more to you than..”
Pain and anger.
“..what you perceive yourself to be.”
Peter sniffles, pulling his face away from Charles and turning his face away, breathing deep breaths. It was then that Charles could finally see him clearly. The static buzz that Peter emanated for the first time seemed to steady itself into something blissful. Then there was the elation — the kind that Charles had felt in reaching Erik, but unlike Peter’s other uncanny parallels with his father this didn’t hurt. He could only feel delight, maybe now because Charles could see that Peter wasn’t just Erik’s boy, but his too. Erik seemed to hurt a little less, and the feeling of love grew a bit stronger.
“Peter, come here, it’s okay,” Charles beckons gently.
“M’not crying, I’m not buggin’ out, that’s totally not rad,” Peter huffs, sniffling and hiccuping just slightly.
“Peter,” Charles repeats sternly, but with a playful tone.
Peter sniffles and kneels in front of him to give Charles his attention, and once he’s about the same height as him Charles pulls Peter close into his chest. “This is your family, Peter, and you’re loved here. I love you, and nobody asks you to be anything but you here. You are enough and you are a good thing in our lives. You are a good kid, you got that?”
Charles feels his shirt dampen, as Peter starts to sob very quietly and his arms tremble but wrap around him. Charles runs a hand down Peter’s fluffy hair, letting him cry for a little while until the sobs turned into quiet occasional hiccups and sniffles.
Peter pulls away eventually, resting back against the wall as he quickly cleans himself up, still embarrassed by the sudden display of emotion that he kept in the storage units of his mind.
“Me snotting on your shirt never happened,” Peter sniffles
“What are you talking about?” Charles grins playfully.
Peter gave a short laugh and let’s out a deep sigh. They listen to the breeze.
“I want to tell him,” Peter announces.
“I know it’s selfish.. but I just really want him to know. I don’t even expect anything from him, like, I’m an adult, I’m almost nineteen and.. I don’t need a dad. I have a great mom and she’s always been enough, but I just..” Peter trails off, unsure what to say now.
“The truth always sets you free, even if it’s not easy,” Charles finishes for him.
“It’s just.. this is optional.. I could just never say anything and he’d be none the wiser, but.. what if.. what if it could be something, you know, man?”
“I understand. I know how you feel,” Charles murmurs quietly.
“He’ll pop up again, I know he will. He always does. He can’t stay away for very long, I assure you you will have your opportunity, to tell him, Peter,” Charles advised.
“Will you tell him?” Peter asked innocently.
“Peter, I can’t tell him for you,” Charles answered.
“No, not that. Will you tell him how you feel?” Peter asked again.
Charles swallowed, looking up at the stars for a moment, then wheeled himself around to look at the satellite dish with a fondness that chilled his heart, “I think that will kill me.”
Peter snickers.
Charles rolls his eyes; just when the kid started to get soft.
“Sorry, sorry, that’s mean. But Chuck, you’re being ridiculous. It’s not going to kill you, for someone who talks a whole deal about the dangers of repression you’ve gone and like, taken the whole jar of it and spread it all on some shitty sandwich to eat.”
“Interesting analogy.”
“What I mean is it’s just a bit hard to take swimming advice from a guy who’s drowning.”
Charles let’s that sit for a moment.
“I suppose I’ve just accepted that I will always love him. And that for some the great loves of their lives will not always live by their side. I think I am one of them.”
Peter takes a moment. “But you should still tell him.”
“I can’t.. I would rather resign myself to what I live in now rather than risk losing him completely,” Charles laments.
“Well, a wise man once told me the truth always sets you free. Even if it’s not easy,” Peter smiles. And so does Charles. They’re silent for a few more moments.
“He could stay, you know. If you told him,” Peter theorises.
“He never stays,” Charles asserts bitterly. He reflects, and looks over at Peter, “Maybe he’d stay for you.”
Peter looks at him with curiosity.
“There is a point, between serenity and rage, you see,” Charles explains, gesturing towards the satellite dish, “Your father moved that when he reached it. I think within that point, there is passion, and devotion.”
Charles looks back at Peter with a soft warmth that could only reflect utter faith, “I think you have that in you too. Should you just love, and let yourself be loved in return. I think you could move him.”
Peter looks like he’s about to tell a joke, but he bites his lip and thinks for a moment, and smiles, “Thank you, Professor.”
“For everything, really. I’m really liking my life right now, because of what you’ve given me.”
Charles’ heart warms with the kind of delight that lightens the load in one’s heart, and he can’t help but smile, “Then it’ll all have been worth it. I’m glad you came to us, Peter.”
Peter smiles his acknowledgement, but stays silent. They enjoy each other’s silence, and in spite of it share this blissful moment together.
“If you guys get together are you my stepdad then?” Peter grins suddenly, to which Charles lightly whacks the speedster on the head. But Charles considers it.
“It wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
Then Peter smiles, and he looks so much like Erik, but Charles is happy to see it.