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“Rise and shine.”
The voice resounds somewhere above Charles’s ear, and although soft, it still manages to rouse him from the deep sleep he’s managed to fall into for the first time in weeks. Even the familiarity of the voice’s lovely low timbre does little to ease Charles’s displeasure at being woken up so early. It’s hardly a surprise, though—as far as Charles’s morning routine is concerned, he’s never been an early riser, certainly not after nights spent reading, studying, or doing research.
Thoroughly displeased, and more than a little groggy, Charles groans, about to roll over to his back, but something solid and warm behind him stops him in his tracks. He freezes, feeling the reverberations of a quiet chuckle against his spine.
“Time to get up, our exams won’t write themselves,” the voice mutters encouragingly into Charles’s neck.
It takes a moment for Charles’s mind, still somewhat fuzzy with sleep, to catch up enough to draw a connection between the much cherished voice and its owner. However, much to Charles’s dismay, it only serves to further confuse him. After all, what could possibly Erik be doing in Charles’s bed, snuggled to his back, especially once Charles realises he’s still wearing his comfy pyjamas.
“Erik?,” Charles croaks, once again trying to turn around. “Am I forgetting something?”
Finally, he manages to turn around when Erik pulls away a bit, in time to see the amusement on his friend’s face. In fact, so endearing is Erik’s half-smile that Charles struggles not to lean in closer and kiss all the smugness off of that gorgeous mouth.
“I promised I’d tuck you in,” Erik explains innocently, though he’s still smirking. “And then I tucked myself in,” he adds, as if it was all the explanation that Charles needed.
A quiet, albeit inelegant snort is the only response that Charles deems necessary while he’s racking his brain in hopes of recalling what had happened the night before. Remembering isn’t an issue in itself—Charles has always had a rather remarkable memory—but his mind tends to take some time to catch up so early in the morning, especially after just a few short hours of sleep. Luckily, it is quick to supply him with the recollection of last night.
Oh.
Oh.
A breath leaves Charles’s mouth with a quiet hiss when the realisation finally dawns on him. Unable to quell down the disbelief, he reaches across the few inches that separate him from Erik, his hand hovering over his friend’s face. Slowly, he brings it down to Erik’s cheek, stroking it gently, and then traces the line of Erik’s jaw, his fingertips catching on the light stubble there, just like they did the night before.
Surprise flashes across Erik’s face at the gesture, his expression quite akin to the one he wore last night, as soon as they parted for a breath, with Charles heaving, yet grinning like a fool.
“You… You’ve wanted this?,” Erik asked then, his voice hoarse, after what felt like an eternity.
Charles couldn’t stop smiling, his hand still touching his friend’s face, his fingers running gently across the expanse of the soft skin. It was utterly fascinating, watching a minute hitch in Erik’s breath when he reached the man’s lips, flushed slightly from the kiss.
“Darling, I’ve wanted to kiss you for the longest time,” he admitted, his voice low, an endearment easily falling out of his mouth. “Ever since we had that first heated discussion about the question of mutant recognition programmes, which you, of course, don’t see as an opportunity to build solidarity and create communities, but as a leeway to start registering all of us.”
Charles could see the argument rising in Erik’s eyes, his thoughts slowly becoming more turbulent, but any interruption died on Erik’s lips when Charles giggled, looking away.
“I hardly could keep coming up with substantive arguments because I couldn’t look away from your lips.” Although Charles’s voice was barely louder than a whisper, they remained close enough that he was sure Erik could hear him. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice.”
Upon hearing this, Erik frowned and just stared at him, his mind lighting up with the recollection of that particular evening as he was desperately trying to understand how he could’ve missed that. And then his thoughts wandered to a completely different moment of that party.
“Emma was right, damn that woman,” he said under his breath, looking away from Charles’s face as if he was trying to hide his annoyance, even though Charles could clearly feel it seeping from Erik’s mind.
Either way, it wasn’t a statement that Charles had expected, not in the least. He leaned slightly away from Erik with surprised amusement, catching an image of Emma, dressed in her signature impeccable white and smiling slyly, as it flashed in front of Erik’s mind.
“Was she?,” he asked incredulously, his lips curling into a smile.
Erik just sighed heavily, but Charles could see the corners of his friend’s eyes wrinkling up.
“The next day after that party, she asked me if I had fun with ‘that telepath of mine,’” he explained, equally exasperated and amused. “Her words, not mine,” he clarified immediately and Charles did his best not to chuckle at that. (Barely, but somehow he managed.) “I told her that I agreed to get you home, since we live in the same dorm anyway, and that she shouldn’t get any ideas. She just looked at me as though I was an idiot and berated me for brushing off the guy who was practically throwing himself at me.”
“You never told me that.” Charles said, with good humour rather than accusingly. “Was I really that obvious?” His smile must’ve been a little sheepish, yet he wasn’t feeling particularly self-conscious.
“Apparently not enough, if my obliviousness is anything to go by,” Erik sighed, but he was grinning nonetheless.
They were so close that Charles could feel Erik’s breath on his skin. It took him a moment to realise that all this time he had been absentmindedly tracing patterns across Erik’s skin, at first touching his face, then his neck, and now he was caressing Erik’s chest.
“It’s not your fault, I should’ve said something, instead of just waiting for you to…” Charles stopped and shook his head with exasperation at his own aloofness, yet his humour continued to be marvellous. “But you couldn’t have known, you’re not the one with telepathic abilities here,” he quipped, delighted to see the amusement in Erik’s eyes in response.
Charles had always enjoyed the casual banter that he and Erik often engaged in. Now, however, with everything out in the open, it was an utterly different and absolutely delightful experience. And looking at Erik’s smugness, Charles couldn’t help but feel giddy, all the stress of the incoming exams pushed to the back of his mind.
“But you like me anyway.” Erik smirked, his voice low and making Charles’s insides twist.
Charles mirrored his smile and leaned in, whispering against Erik’s lips, “Very much so.”
Completely lost in the memory of the last night, Charles barely notices a shuffle of the sheets, while the mattress sinks a bit next to him after Erik sits up on the bed.
“Come on, we should get up,” he says decisively, pulling Charles out of his reverie.
The telepath groans, burying his face in the pillow. A meagre couple of hours of sleep hasn’t been enough to make him feel less than bone-tired and he would do anything to get even five more minutes of sleep. The fact that Erik’s smell still lingers on the soft fabric doesn’t make it any easier to move away from the warm comfort of the bed.
“Can’t we just stay in bed for a few more minutes?” Charles mumbles into the pillow, feeling forlorn as the ghost of Erik’s warmth is slowly fading.
“We’ve wasted enough time as it is,” Erik points out with a meaningful glance, though he lingers on the bed, and gingerly places his hand on Charles’s back.
He’s clearly still slightly hesitant about casual intimacy, Charles notes. And yet, the initial tenseness of Erik’s fingers is quickly gone, as Charles turns to look up at him.
“You could at least give me a morning kiss?” the telepath says innocently, though he is certain that Erik notices his small playful smile, if his exasperated groan is any indication.
“Charles, we need to get ready.” Despite Erik’s insistence, Charles can feel his regretfulness.
Not even slightly discouraged, he raises from the pillow, propping himself up on his forearms. Although he knows that chances of convincing Erik to go back to bed are slim to none, he isn’t ready to give up just yet.
“Not even a peck?” He flutters his lashes perhaps a tad too ostentatiously, but he can’t help himself.
Erik regards him for a moment, and although the surface of his mind feels calm, there is a slight thrum of uncertainty which betrays that he is quite conflicted. Even though Charles knows that he’s a rather terrible flirt, his friend appears to be utterly susceptible to his questionable charms.
However, in a split second, Erik’s mind flashes with determination and he’s quickly on his feet. He wastes no time and crosses the room in just a few steps, stopping next to the window with a triumphant smile.
“Well, if you want one, you’ll have to come here,” he teases, practically beaming with satisfaction.
Charles, obviously, does not sympathise. Distantly, he knows that if he wants to make it to the exam in time, he needs to leave the safe confines of his bed soon, but if it’s somehow possible to prolong the blissfulness of staying in his warm bed, he will do all that he can to do it.
“I’m not moving.” He crosses his arms, and pouts theatrically.
Erik, the bastard, laughs at that and Charles tries really hard to ignore how delightful of a sound he makes. (Which is an utter failure, of course.)
“Then there won’t be any kisses for you, mister.” Erik smiles, charming as usual, his mind practically gleaming with amusement.
As annoyed as Charles is at that utterly despicable abuse of power– truly, how has Erik dared to betray him like that? –he is fighting to suppress a smile.
“Screw you.”
With a flourish, Charles buries himself back below the covers, intent on staying exactly where he is, thank you very much. A distant, decidedly more responsible part of his mind screams at him to move, what with the exam that he has to write today, but he stubbornly ignores it, way too content to allow his usual anxiety to kick in.
Erik is not discouraged by his childish behaviour, though–if anything, his smug smile only grows.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He raises his eyebrow suggestively, pitching his voice much lower than necessary, really.
Now that insinuation–however correct–is simply unacceptable so early in the morning and right before an important exam. Charles sends the deadliest glare he’s able to muster from under the covers, which only appears to further amuse Erik. With nothing else left–certainly no willpower–Charles does the first thing, which comes to his mind–he grabs one of his pillows and chucks it in Erik’s direction. Considering how sleepy he still is and how his hand-eye coordination is lacking on the best of days, it isn’t that bad of a throw, the pillow landing just shy of Erik’s feet. But this is not nearly intimidating enough and Erik just laughs.
Charles is not impressed and he expresses it by throwing the second pillow. This also does not have the desired effect; moreover, it leaves Charles with no pillows, and he realises that too late, when the second pillow has already landed a foot away from Erik, who reaches for it triumphantly.
“I’m afraid you won’t be able to fall back asleep now,” he says with mock worry, trying for Charles’s accent and failing spectacularly.
Which is even more annoying, because Charles knows that he can do better than that.
“Shut up.”
“Or what?”
Out of options and anything close enough to grab, Charles has nothing else to do but to use the top of his pyjamas as another projectile–this time it even hits its target, although Erik easily catches it, despite his obvious surprise. He’s no longer laughing and Charles counts it as a success, even though he knows that he has lost the fight. Perhaps it wasn’t his intention, but undressing clearly has at least managed to get Erik to stop being so smug about the whole thing.
With a long sigh, Charles entangles himself from the covers and jumps of the bed. He needs to shower to feel at least a bit human, and so he takes off towards their en suite, severely missing the warmth of his bed, even though he knows that he already is behind schedule, not that he would be willing to admit it out loud.
“If you’re done being infuriating, you can give me back my shirt,” he says, stopping in front of Erik, and he doesn’t miss the way his friend’s eyes drift lower down his chest before he manages to shake his head and look at the shirt in his hands.
“Why do you insist on sleeping in this atrocity?” He hands it to Charles, his eyes still locked on the offending item of clothing.
“It’s warm.” Charles shrugs. “And you know I'm getting cold at night.”
The smug look is back on Erik’s face.
“Maybe I could just warm you up instead…” His voice is low again, and Charles truly hates how it makes his blood flow south.
Ignoring that sensation, he purses his lips, pretending to ponder the offer, but at the same time stepping quickly away, beyond Erik’s reach.
“A truly tempting offer, Mister Lehnsherr.” Charles throws a quick glance over his shoulder, about to open the door to the bathroom, and he can help but bat his lashes again, even as Erik rolls his eyes. “But for now… I believe I need to get ready.” Charles punctuates this statement with a not-exactly-apologetic smile and quickly slips into the bathroom.
As the door closes behind, he hears Erik muttering something under his nose, but a quick brush against his mind confirms that he’s only mildly annoyed.
“You’re insufferable,” he shouts through the closed door nonetheless, and Charles just laughs.