Archive of Our Own

Erik is not an unreasonable man; he simply doesn’t enjoy uncontrollable nonsense. And the four-legged ball of fur running through the prairie grass that separates his house from his neighbor’s, making a beeline towards where Erik relaxes on his porch, looks exactly like uncontrollable nonsense.

Golden retriever, Erik notices as soon as the dog gets close enough to be distinguished as anything except a fluffy, blonde blob.

Erik puts his book down but remains in his chair as the dog barrels up his porch steps. Without hesitation it jumps halfway into his lap, smearing dirt onto his khakis and black sweater. Before Erik can make a move to push the dog off his lap, it begins repeatedly licking him in the face. To add insult to injury, it nuzzles it’s head on Erik’s freshly slobbered on face, fur sticking to the drying saliva.

“Raven! Raaaaaaaven! Raven, come!” a man’s voice calls from the same general direction the dog came from. “Raven! Come here, girl!” louder this time, closer.

The dog—Raven, Erik guesses—pauses, ears perking up as the voice continues to call for her. Erik takes her distraction as an opportunity to throw his hands up over his face. As Erik maneuvers Raven off of him, he hears the sound of footsteps on his wooden steps.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” says the same voice that was previously calling for the dog, “Raven, what do you think you were doing?” Raven wiggles her way over to the man.

Erik attempts to smooth his rumpled hair and clothes as he replies, “Maybe if she were trained bet—” but the rest of Erik’s retort escapes him when he finally looks up at Raven’s owner. The first thing Erik notices is the man’s obscenely red lips, the next his unnaturally blue eyes that clearly express his apology. “It’s fine,” Erik grumbles, looking back down into his lap where he wipes off a nonexistent dirt pawprint. 

The man grabs onto Raven’s thick, blue collar before turning back to Erik.

“Again, I’m sorry,” he begins, “She just gets excited fairly easily. I guess this her her way of welcoming you to the neighborhood, which I now realize I haven’t done yet. I’m Charles, by the way, Charles Xavier. And this is Raven.”

“Erik Lehnsherr.”

Now that he isn’t preoccupied by being smothered by a dog, Erik notices Charles’ smooth British accent. Not only is Charles possibly the most beautiful man Erik has ever seen, he has a voice that Erik could listen to for hours, even if he were talking in detail about the anatomy of slugs.

“Aren’t Golden Retrievers supposed to be obedient and easy to train?” Erik asks, though he’s sure the words hold none of the bite he meant to put behind them. Charles laughs before answering.

“She’s relatively well-trained, but I’ve never really minded just letting her do what she wants instead of micromanaging her. She’s not usually this rambunctious either. This is the first time she’s really run away from me. She must really like you.”

The lopsided grin Charles gives him is infuriatingly adorable. Erik quickly turns his attention to Raven in an attempt to hide the blush he suspects is creeping into his cheeks. He has to admit she is a beautiful dog. Her long, light blonde fur layers perfectly over her lean but strong body.

“Show dog?” Erik’s not really sure why he asks.

“No. I mean, yes technically she came from a family of show dogs, but I don’t show her. I was shown-off enough as a child. I wouldn’t do that to anyone else, especially not a friend.” At this, Charles scratches behind Raven’s ear, and she leans into his left leg, mouth open and eyes closed in contentment. “Is that The Once and Future King?”

It’s clear Charles is trying to change the subject, but Erik goes along with it.

“Ah, yeah. Not exactly the most sophisticated work of literature, I know. It’s been my favorite since I was young, though.”

“It’s a good book,” Charles says as he shrugs, “Besides, as a geneticist I’m not exactly qualified to criticize literature. Speaking of which, I really must be getting to work. You should stop by for dinner sometime,” Charles starts down the stairs while he continues talking, “Not that dinner at my house is much of an offer. I’m not exactly the best cook. Anyways, I’m sure Raven will be back to visit soon.”

Charles waves goodbye and jogs around the corner of Erik’s house, presumably choosing to walk down Erik’s driveway and up his own instead of trampling back through the prairie grass.

“Can’t wait,” Erik mumbles to himself once Charles is out of sight. Charles Xavier may be charming, but his dog is annoying as hell.

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It’s a relatively slow day at work. Charles and his partner, Hank, are currently between experiments, and Charles sent in a final draft of his report to his boss last night. He spends his few hours at the lab in his office reading reports from his colleagues that he meant to catch up on a while ago. However, his mind keeps wandering to his new neighbor, Erik Lehnsherr.

The universe was practically taunting Charles with his and Erik’s meeting. Not only is he unbelievably gorgeous—honestly that jawline isn’t fair, not to mention the outline of his obviously toned muscles through his tight sweater, his eyes that are somehow grey, blue, and green, and his deep, faintly German accent—but thanks to Raven, he was also completely disheveled when Charles arrived. Charles was torn between grabbing Raven and running as to not risk any possible embarrassment on his part and hopping onto Erik’s lap himself.

Charles checks his watch. 4:08. He’s only been at the lab since noon, but he feels as if he’s been here for days. And that’s coming from a man who actually has spent multiple days at work with only a few breaks. Thankfully his best friend, Moira, is able to stay at his house the nights he’s stuck in the lab. He rubs both of his hands over his face with a sigh before pushing his chair back from his desk. He doesn’t even bother stopping by Hank’s office before he leaves. His partner won’t even notice he’s gone.

When he get’s home, he finds Raven curled up on her favorite spot on the couch. She perks up when she hears him but doesn’t come to greet him.

“Hi, Raven,” Charles says gently, not wanting to rile her up while she’s relaxed.

He grabs the remote and plops down on his side of the couch. Raven rolls on her back with her tail wagging, a clear indication she’s searching for a belly rub. Charles happily complies after turning on a Planet Earth. It’s the episode about jungles. He doesn’t change the channel, though he’s seen the entirety of Planet Earth at least half a dozen times. Raven reluctantly rolls into a sitting position as Charles settles back into his spot. Charles sighs when Raven makes eye contact with him.

“I know it’s dumb Raven—I mean I just met him and I know precisely nothing about him—but I can’t stop thinking about him.”

Raven tilts her head at him.

“Erik,” Charles clarifies for her. Raven straightens her head, and Charles swears she gives him a knowing look. Charles rolls his eyes and sighs, yet again, before continuing. “I know, I know! He seemed kind of grumpy. I should probably just leave him alone, shouldn’t I? What if he already has a boyfriend? Wait, what if he isn’t even gay? I’m getting way ahead of myself.”

When Charles sighs for a third time in a couple of minutes, Raven squeezes between him and the couch and nuzzles her nose under Charles’ arm so he drapes it around her. Charles and Raven fall asleep some time between the first and second commercial. 

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Raven is in his yard again. Erik can see her clearly from his kitchen window as he prepares dinner, even in the fading autumn light. And she’s taking a shit. Erik rolls his eyes and returns his attention to his mushroom risotto.

However, he is distracted again when, out of the corner of his eye, he sees a second figure moving through his yard. He watches as Charles bends over to pick up Raven’s poop. And no, he is most definitely not admiring Charles’ ass.

Not completely aware of what he’s doing, Erik opens his kitchen window.

“Back again, I see,” Erik calls out to his neighbor.

Charles startles before turning to face Erik and slowly making his way toward the window. Raven, on the other hand, runs to the window and jumps as if she can leap into it and enter Erik’s house. It takes the majority of Erik’s willpower to ignore her while she whines up at him.

“Ah, yeah,” Charles replies sheepishly. He holds up the bag of poop. “Sorry about…this.”

“As long as you clean it up.” Erik shrugs. The way Charles’ sweatpants and thin, white shirt hang on his body is truly unfair. Erik looks back at his cooking meal to prevent staring.

“Um, so I wasn’t kidding about having you over for dinner,” Charles changes the subject. “I know it’s late, but I haven’t started cooking anything yet. I could make some spaghetti? I don’t know. I’m not much of a cook.”

Charles sounds incredibly hopeful, and as much as Erik wants to say yes, dinner at Charles’ means dinner with Raven. Erik imagines how that dog acts around a dinner table and cringes. Charles must have noticed Erik’s cringe because his face falls. Erik suddenly feels overcome with guilt.

“I-I’m sorry I can’t.” Charles looks even more disappointed, if that’s even possible. “Not tonight.” Erik considers inviting Charles in for dinner, but he barely cooked enough food for himself and his house is still a mess of half unpacked boxes. He hasn’t even been able to reach his table since he moved in four days ago. 

“It’s fine. Besides, I need to give this one a bath,” Charles says, halfheartedly pointing to Raven who is currently spinning in circles beneath Erik’s window. The smile Charles flashes is disconcertingly convincing, especially since he just looked like a little boy whose parents played a trick on him by telling him they were going to Disneyland and then took him to the dentist instead.

“Come on, Raven!” Charles calls as he starts walking back to the prairie grass, apparently not bothering with using the driveway this time. Raven only hesitates for a second, giving Erik one last look before sprinting off after her owner. Erik continues watching Charles’ retreating figure until the man throws a hand over his shoulder and looks back as a goodbye before rounding a large pine tree that hides most of his house from Erik’s view.

Erik mentally kicks himself as he pulls his head back inside, closes the window, and promptly realizes his risotto is burning.

“Shit, shit, shit.” He quickly turns off the stove and stirs the steaming meal, attempting to salvage as much as possible. Thankfully, only the very bottom has burned, and he still has enough left for a decent dinner. He scrapes his meal into a bowl, careful to avoid the burnt parts, and splays across his couch.

Erik rarely has visitors so he’s never really been concerned about the state of his home, but he spends the duration of his dinner studying the boxes around him, inexplicably annoyed by their presence.

||            ||            ||

Charles doesn’t see Erik again for three days, though Raven runs into his yard at least once a day. Charles may have lingered around Erik’s house a little longer than necessary whenever Raven ventured over there.

When Raven wanders into Erik’s yard on Saturday morning, Charles willingly follows, the same as he had done the previous three mornings. However, unlike the previous three mornings, Erik is sitting out on his deck, drinking from a steaming mug. Charles can’t help the flutter of nerves in his stomach. He was beginning to assume the other man was avoiding him.

Raven notices Erik a moment after Charles and starts bolting towards the unsuspecting man.

“No!” Charles screams, too late. “Raven!”

Erik’s head snaps up at Charles’ voice, just in time for him to notice Raven bounding up the steps, but not in time to move out of the way before she crashes into him, sending his hot coffee flying into his face and splashing the front of his maroon, v-neck shirt.

Charles takes off after Raven, cursing himself for hesitating for so long. Erik is sputtering and pushing Raven off of him, mug lying forgotten on the floor, when Charles finally reaches him.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Charles rambles, pulling Raven off of Erik and making her sit politely. “Fucking shit. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

Once Raven shows no signs of planning to move, Charles turns back to an enraged looking, red-faced Erik—whether the redness is from the scorching liquid that previously scalded his face or his anger, Charles can’t tell.  Charles reaches out with the sleeve of his grey sweatshirt to wipe the remaining liquid off Erik’s face, but Erik recoils.

“I’m fine,” he spits. He stands up and pulls his shirt over his head then uses it to wipe up the coffee that soaked through to his chest.

All of Charles’ apologies catch in his throat when he realizes that he’s standing face to face with Erik’s shirtless form. Not only is he shirtless, he’s wearing pajama pants, the loose fitting fabric hanging low on his hips. Heat creeps into Charles’s cheeks and he realizes he’s staring. He quickly looks back to Erik’s face, hoping his admiration had gone unnoticed.

He guesses he isn’t so lucky, if Erik’s scrutinizing expression is any indication.

Charles opens his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. Instead, he sucks in a breath too quickly and falls into a coughing fit. Unexpectedly, a hand pats him gently on the back as he continues his fit. Once he finally calms down, he turns back to Erik. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally says.

Erik analyzes him for a long moment before responding with what is quite possibly the last thing Charles expects.

“Do you play chess?”

“I-uh-I haven’t in a while. Not since university, I think,” Charles answers hesitantly.

“I just found my set while I was unpacking. Do you want to play?”

“Yes, of course,” Charles replies, probably too quickly.

“Take that home first,” Erik says, gesturing to Raven. “I don’t need her wreaking havoc in my house.”

Charles narrows his eyes before retorting. 

“First of all, ‘that’ is a she. Secondly, she’s a well-behaved dog. She just really likes you—for reasons I can’t begin to comprehend because you obviously don’t return her fondness—and was excited to see you. But, I can respect you not wanting a dog in your home so I will take her home and feed her, and then I will return and kick your ass in chess.” 

The frown Erik wore at the beginning of Charles’ rant slowly turns into a grin. 

“I look forward to it,” Erik replies. There is a hint of something—Charles’ first instinct tells him it’s flirtation—in his voice. Charles merely lifts an eyebrow before calling Raven to his side and following her back to their house where her breakfast awaits.

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The moment Charles disappears around the pine tree, Erik quickly picks up his mug and practically runs back into his house. He thanks his past self for unpacking and cleaning up his house over the past few days, making his living space presentable for the first time in years. He deposits his dirty mug in the sink before he rounds the corner to his laundry room, throws his dirty shirt into the open washing machine, and allows himself a moment to smile like an idiot.

Once he grabs a clean outfit, a pair of dark jeans and a light blue button-up shirt, from his dresser, he heads back down to the kitchen where he pours himself a fresh cup of coffee while he waits for Charles to return. Before Erik finishes half of his coffee, the doorbell rings. Erik has to fight back the urge to sprint to the door.

Calm down, he tells himself. You don’t want to seem too eager.

Slowly, Erik sets down his mug and strolls to the door. He opens it to reveal a smiling Charles. While at home, he changed into a pair of khakis and a navy blue cardigan over a plain white shirt. The ensemble is flattering on him, though it reminds Erik of a middle-aged professor.

“Hello,” Charles says, breaking Erik out of his stupor.

Erik shakes his head slightly to clear it and mirrors Charles’ smile with his own, the same smile he has been told makes him resemble a shark. 

“Hi, yourself,” Erik replies after a moment. He steps back from the door, opening it further, and gestures for Charles to come inside. Charles takes a few glances around while Erik leads him to the kitchen.

“Coffee?” Erik asks while returning to his own mug.

“Yes, please. Do you happen to have any cream and sugar?”

“Of course.” Erik goes to work pouring another mug of coffee and sets it, along with a carton of cream, a bowl of sugar, and a spoon on the kitchen island in front of Charles. “Help yourself.”

Erik watches as Charles gives him an appreciative smile and adds a splash of milk and a spoonful of sugar to his coffee. Despite being in the house of someone he barely even knows for the first time, Charles has a certain confidence and comfortableness to him. After tasting his coffee and evidently determining it satisfactory, Charles walks past Erik and deposits the spoon in the sink. Erik grabs the carton of cream from the island while Charles puts the sugar back in the corner of the counter Erik had retrieved it from. When Charles turns back to Erik, they are standing only a few inches apart, and Charles gives him a confused look that Erik assumes matches the one he is sure he’s wearing.

“What?” Charles asks, and Erik can faintly feel Charles’s breath on his face.

“Nothing,” Erik responds quickly then adds, “Uh, it’s just that you’re cleaning up after yourself. In my house. And you’ve never even been here before.”

“Oh.” Charles steps back, increasing the distance between them, and his face reddens. “I’m sorry. I must have overstepped my boundaries. I’ve had more than my fair share of people cleaning up after me. I enjoy doing it myself." 

“No, no, it’s fine. I mean—I’m not going to lie—it is sort of unusual. But it’s fine. Please, make yourself at home.” Erik gives Charles what he hopes is a reassuring smile, and after a moment’s hesitation, Charles returns it.

“Thank you,” Charles says, as if Erik had just given him the best birthday present in the world. “Anyways, about this chess game that I’m going to win.”

“Ah, of course.” Erik gestures to the chessboard on the small table that separates the kitchen from the living room. Yesterday, Erik wasn’t sure why he was setting up the board without anyone to play with, but he’s now glad he did. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

Charles’ eyebrows raise as he looks at Erik over his mug, an acceptance of his challenge.

||            ||            || 

Erik barely wins the first game, but Charles quickly wins the second.

“I feel as if we should make this more interesting,” Charles suggests as he sets down his empty second mug of coffee. Erik inclines his head toward the mug, a silent question of whether he wants more. Charles shakes his head.

“How so?” Erik finally responds, skeptical.

“Oh, it’s completely innocent, I assure you,” Charles laughs, and Erik visibly relaxes. “Every time one of us wins a piece of the other, he gets to ask a question about him.”

Erik shrugs in response and begins resetting the chessboard. Charles grins to himself and follows suit.

Erik wins Charles’ pawn.

“What is your favorite food?”

“Pizza.”

Erik wins Charles’ pawn.

“Where’d you come up with the name Raven for your dog?" 

“Uh, I had an imaginary friend named Raven when I was young. She, uh, she was blue but could look like whomever she pleased.”

Charles wins Erik’s pawn.

“Where did you learn how to play chess?”

“My father taught me when I was a boy.”

Charles wins Erik’s pawn.

“Why do you hate Raven?”

“I don’t hate Raven. Look, I even had a dog growing up. I had a German Shepherd named Max. I honestly don’t hate Raven. I just don’t exactly enjoy being tackled. I simply would like her far better if she had better manners.”

Charles wins Erik’s rook.

“She is a well-mannered dog. The only reason she gets so riled up around you is because, like I said before, she likes you for some reason.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Did you know that the only reason she gets so riled up around you is because, like I said before, she likes you for some reason?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Erik wins Charles’ knight. 

“Where did you grow up?”

“Westchester County, New York.”

Charles wins Erik’s pawn.

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m an engineer.”

Erik wins Charles’ bishop.

“What did you want to be growing up?”

“A firefighter.”

Charles wins Erik’s knight.

“Where have you been for the past few days?” 

“At home. I’ve been inside unpacking and cleaning up. Making frequent runs to the store to buy miscellaneous things.”

Two moves later Erik calls checkmate.

“Hm, I suppose so,” Charles says.

“One last question?”

“Shoot.”

“The other day you said you knew what it was like to be paraded around, and today you mentioned that you used to have people clean up after you. What did you mean?”

“Ah,” Charles replies slowly and with downcast eyes. “I told you I grew up in Westchester County. If you don’t know, it’s a very affluent area. Long story short, I come from an extremely wealthy family. However like the spoiled brat people from my old life assume that I am, I hated it. Instead of being a kid, I was a type of trophy. My parents would show me off at parties full of adults who would laugh and prod at me like a was an animal in a petting zoo, and then I would be shooed off to my room alone. My mother was constantly either drunk or holed up in her room to hide her hangover. I never had any real friends, and I never got to actually be a kid. When my parents died, I inherited all of the money and property, but I haven’t touched it since the day after it became mine when I effectively made each member of the staff a millionaire and then let them all go.”

Erik simply nods contemplatively and says, “I know what it’s like to lose your parents. I lost both of mine when I was six and was passed around to different extended family members until I turned eighteen. Also, I’m sure you make a much better person than trophy.”

Charles notices Erik was trying to change the subject and smiles lightly before checking his watch. It’s nearly eleven.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I really must be going,” Charles says, standing up and moving to the door. “I’ve got chores to do and errands to run. Let’s do this again. Soon.”

“Tomorrow morning?” Erik asks as he opens the door.

“Sounds perfect. Bye, Erik.”

“Goodbye, Charles.”

||            ||            ||

They continue this routine for a few months. Every morning after walking and feeding Raven, Charles comes to Erik’s house. They talk and play chess, slowly getting to know each other. Charles stays longer on weekends, when neither of them have to go to work. On a rare few days, Erik wakes up to a text from Charles saying he was going to be at the lab all night—"Don't worry my friend Moira is going to come take care of Raven," he had assured Erik the first time, as if Erik was worried about the dog—and wouldn't be able to make it for the next morning but would he want to come over for dinner. Erik only accepted the invite once and after being stalked by an overly enthusiastic Raven the whole time, took to responding to the request by changing dinner to his own house. More frequently, Charles comes over but is obviously far too tired to play chess, so they drink coffee on Erik's couch and debate politics and current events while the morning news plays in the background. 

Erik finds it easier than he would expect to admit to himself how much he cares for Charles. If he's honest, no one has been as important to him since his grandparents died when he was twelve. He can't even determine what it is about Charles that makes Erik so drawn to him. Sure he’s gorgeous, but at times he’s infuriating. Sometimes Erik thinks he would have better luck convincing a footstool to waver in any of its views of the world. Still, he can barely stand going two days without seeing Charles, which is both unbelievably frustrating and somewhat pleasant. 

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Charles walks into his home late on a cold December night. He texted Erik earlier that evening when he realized he was going to have to stay at the lab for a while and cancelled their dinner plans. His microwave clock informs him it’s ten until one in the morning. Charles groans and makes his way to his bedroom where he expects to find Raven. Sure enough, she made herself a nest out of the covers and is curled up in it, sound asleep. Thanks to Moira she has already had her dinner and gone out to potty, so Charles leaves her alone and moves to the bathroom. As much as he just wants to crawl under the covers and go to sleep, he feels disgusting.

He strips off his clothes as he turns the faucet on and gets in before it’s completely warm, letting the cold water wake him up a enough that he doesn’t feel like he’s going to fall asleep mid-shampoo. He quickly lathers and rinses his hair, hissing when shampoo gets into his eyes, then reaches behind him for the bar of soap. It immediately slips out of his tired, too loose grip, and Charles yawns as he bends to pick it up. He loses his balance and instinctually steps forward to correct himself. However, his left foot lands directly on the bar of soap and shoots back, causing him to collapse, his foot twisted beneath him. He hears a distinct crunch and screams as pain sparks in his foot and ankle and his vision goes dark for a couple of seconds.

When his vision clears, he sees Raven bounding into the bathroom. She sits outside of the shower and half barks, half whines while Charles attempts and fails to stand up. Instead, he carefully moves himself so his foot is out in front of him and reaches up to turn the water off and open the shower door so he can see Raven better. Raven starts barking louder and when Charles tries to quiet her, starts pacing.

“Shit,” Charles groans to himself, rubbing his hands slowly down his face. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Raven gives three last whines before running out of the bathroom. 

“Raven, wait! Stop! Where are you going? Raven, come here!” Charles shouts uselessly after her.

She begins barking again from what sounds like the living room. A minute or so later, Charles hears scratching combined with her barks. What she is scratching at, Charles has no idea and is frankly in too much pain and too fatigued to care. Charles starts caring when he hears the distinct snap of the handle on the door to the porch, the one always left unlocked. The scratching stops, and Raven’s bark fades until it sounds more like the soft chirp of a bird than a golden retriever.

Now Charles is stranded naked in his shower while Raven roams around the neighborhood at one in the morning.

||            ||            ||

At first, Erik thinks he’s dreaming. That must be the only logical reason he hears a dog barking outside his house in the middle of the night. He closes his eyes and doesn’t move for a few minutes, hoping it will go away. When it doesn’t, he gets out of bed and shuffles to the window. He pulls back the blinds to find Raven standing below his window and barking up at him. He sighs and cracks the window open.

“Go home, Raven,” he whispers into the night. “Go find Charles.”

She stops barking when she notices him and gives him a long look before running back in the direction of Charles’ house. She only gets about ten yards away, turns to look back at Erik, and returns to beneath his window. After barking a few more times, she runs a short distance towards Charles’ house, turns back, and returns to Erik. She repeats this four more times, all while Erik watches her with a scowl. When she returns this time, she paws at Erik’s lawn as she barks—thankfully the ground is frozen so all she manages to do is dig a hole in the shallow snow. This time when she runs towards Charles’s house, she looks over her shoulder at Erik the entire time. It’s as if she wants him to follow her. The last thing Erik wants to do right now is leave the comfort of his room and follow a dog through the cold, but he guesses it’s the only way he will be able to get her to finally go home and leave him alone.

He grabs a red hoodie from his closet and puts it on as he walks downstairs. He quickly throws on a pair of boots and meets Raven next to the porch. She runs off but quickly realizes Erik lags behind and slows down so she walks slightly in front of him. Together they make their way through the prairie grass to Charles’ house.

||            ||            ||

Charles hears the jingling of the tags on Raven’s collar before he sees her coming into the bathroom. He lets out a relieved breath that catches in this throat when he hears the door shut and footsteps echo through the living room.

“Raven,” he hisses accusingly.

Great. She found someone while she was out wandering and now they’re going to rob him while he sits helpless in his shower with a broken foot. Raven turns to the door and starts barking. 

“Too late,” Charles grumbles. “I don’t think you’re going to be able to scare them off now. We’re screwed.”

“Raven, shut up. You’re going to wake Charles,” a man whispers. Wait, that’s—

“Erik?” Charles calls, forgetting himself for a moment.

Charles’ voice must have expressed some of his pain because the footsteps quicken.

“Charles, are you okay?” Erik calls back. Charles doesn’t have time to answer before Erik rounds the corner into the bathroom. He seems to realize that Charles is sitting naked in his shower and stops, turning his gaze anywhere else.

“I, uh, I think I broke my foot. Or my ankle. Or both,” Charles responds sheepishly.

Erik is at his side before Charles can finish speaking. Now it’s Charles’ turn to realize he’s sitting naked in front of Erik. He quickly covers himself with his hands and feels heat rise into his cheeks.

“Charles, I’ve seen naked men before.” There’s a peculiar heat behind Erik’s words. “Besides, don’t you agree that we have more important things to worry about at the moment?” Still, Erik reaches for a towel as he speaks.

Charles gratefully accepts the towel and drapes it across his lap, tucking it under his ass.

“Okay, this is, uh, I’m going to pick you up, alright?”

Charles nods slowly, his blush remaining firmly in place.

Erik wraps one arm around Charles’ bare waist and slips the other underneath his knees and lifts. Charles keeps one hand on the towel  to wrap it around himself better and winds the other around Erik’s neck to stabilize himself. Erik waits until Charles stops squirming to walk into the bedroom and deposit Charles on the bed. And Charles most certainly did not even slightly enjoy Erik carrying him to bed. Nope. Not at all. Not even a tiny bit. That was not enjoyable at all and Charles would most definitely never want it to happen again. Fuck it, he needs to stop lying to himself. He’s pretty much dreamt of this exact situation every night for the past three months minus the towel and the broken foot. And minus Erik’s clothes.

“You need clothes,” Erik says simply.

“Sweatpants are in the middle left dresser drawer. Shirts are in the closet.”

“Underwear?”

“Uh, I don’t need any." 

Erik raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t say anything, and Charles’ recently departed blush returns. Charles watches Erik as he grabs a pair of black sweatpants from the drawer, throws them on the bed, moves to the closet, grabs a grey, long-sleeve shirt from a hanger, and hands it to Charles. Charles slips the shirt on before bending over to carefully pull the sweatpants over his foot. Erik watches him struggle for only a few seconds before kneeling down on the floor in front of Charles and taking the sweatpants from him. He bunches up the left leg and maneuvers it around Charles’ foot, making sure the fabric doesn’t even brush the skin. He holds the pant leg above Charles’ ankle as Charles rolls onto his back and wiggles the pants up and over his hips. Charles gives him an appreciative smile as he rolls up into a sitting position.

“I need to run over to my house and get my car so we can go to the hospital. I’ll be right back.” Erik waits for something, likely an affirmation from Charles.

“Nonsense,” Charles replies. “We can take my car.”

Erik nods, mostly to himself, and moves the towel so he can sit on the bed next to Charles.

“Put your arm around my neck,” Erik instructs. As Charles does as he says, Erik winds his arm around Charles’ waist. “Ready?”

Charles nods and Erik stands up, dragging Charles with him. Before they’re both fully standing, Erik shifts so he is supporting nearly all of Charles’ weight. Erik starts forward, moving in a way that allows Charles to keep his injured foot off of the floor.

“Car keys are hanging next to the door into the garage,” Charles grunts when they get into the living room.

They make it across the living room quickly with Raven following quietly behind them.

“Goodbye, Raven.” Charles turns and gives her head a single pat while Erik grabs the keys. “Just go to sleep, and I’ll be back soon.”

Charles can practically feel Erik rolling his eyes. Erik walks them through the door and closes it behind them. Without warning, he lifts Charles by the waist and sets him at the bottom of the two steps into the garage. They hobble over to the passenger door, which Erik opens and gently helps Charles into. Erik opens the garage door as he walks around the front of Charles’ black BMW to the driver’s side.

“Thank you,” Charles says when Erik gets into the car.

“Don’t thank me,” Erik says with a grin. “Thank your dog. She’s the one who came and got me.”

Charles laughs and relaxes into his seat as Erik pulls the car out of the garage and down the driveway.

||            ||            ||

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” The woman at the front desk asks Charles in a tone Erik can’t really determine is condescending or not. According to her nametag, her name is Emma.

“I believe my foot is broken,” Charles responds. He tries to put his foot down but nearly collapses the moment it bears any weight. The only thing that stops him from falling is Erik’s arm solidly around his waist.

“Don’t,” Erik says quietly. Charles harrumphs.

“I’ll just need you to fill out these forms, and the doctor should be able to see you shortly,” Emma says, handing over a clipboard.

Erik guides Charles over to the nearest row of chairs and helps him sit down. He looks around the room as Charles fills out the forms. It’s incredibly slow, even for one-forty in the morning on a Friday. There are only two other people in the waiting room, both of whom don’t have any visible ailments. Erik looks back at Charles to find him staring at the front desk, finished forms in hand. 

“Here,” Erik says, holding out his hand. Charles willingly hands over the clipboard, which Erik takes up to Emma.

“Here you go,” he says.

“Thank you,” she replies in her possibly condescending tone. “Tell me, how did your boyfriend break his foot?” She eyes him suspiciously.

“He’s not—” Erik decides to drop that part of the question. “He slipped in the shower." 

Emma doesn’t manage to completely hide her smirk, and Erik glares at her before turning and making his way back to Charles.

They only have to wait a little over five minutes before a curly-brown-haired man in a white lab coat with a stethoscope around his neck walks through the double doors on the other side of the room and consults his iPad.

“Charles Xavier,” he calls.

Erik helps Charles up and over to the doctor.

“That would be me,” Charles says when they reach him.

“Charles,” the doctor says, holding out his hand. “I’m Dr. Scott Summers. It’s nice to meet you. Although, I suppose the circumstances are less than ideal.”

Charles gives him a quiet laugh and shakes his hand. The heated look the doctor is giving Charles makes Erik tighten his grip around Charles’ waist. 

“Yes, everyone’s having a great time, but he really needs his foot looked at,” Erik grumbles.

“Of course. Charles if you would come with me. I’m sorry,” he says turning to Erik, “but if you’re not family you can’t come back with him.”

Erik can actually feel a growl building at the base of his throat, but he holds it back.

“I’m coming with,” he spits instead. “He can’t even walk by himself." 

“That’s not a problem, we’ll get him a wheelchair.” He turns to a nurse as he finishes his sentence, and asks if he would kindly retrieve a wheelchair for Charles.

“Can’t he please come back, Dr. Summers?” Charles is clearly flirting with the doctor and Erik can feel the growl building again. “If he wants to come back, it’s the least I can do to repay him for helping me so much. Besides, we’re practically family.” Charles lies easily.

Dr. Summers, like probably everyone in the universe, is unable to resist Charles’ charm and eventually nods his head in concession. The nurse returns with a wheelchair, and Erik helps Charles into it. Then he quickly grabs the handles of the wheelchair before anyone else dares to do so.

When they get into the room, Dr. Summers checks all of Charles’ vitals while Erik sits on an uncomfortable plastic chair in the corner. Once Dr. Summers determines that Charles is healthy, he turns his attention to his injured foot. Every time he touches Charles’ foot or ankle, Charles lets out a hiss and Erik becomes even more coiled with tension. The doctor finally finishes his examination and moves away from Charles, and Erik is able to relax a little.

“Well, I’m almost certain your foot is broken, but we’re going to need to do x-rays. As for your ankle, my best guess would be that it’s sprained.”

“Let’s get the x-rays done then, I suppose,” Charles sighs.

“Perfect. I’ll head over there and have them get set up and come get you when they’re ready.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

Erik doesn’t say anything, only waits until Dr. Summers leaves the room and closes the door to relax completely.

“What was that?” Charles asks, turning to Erik.

“What was what?”

“You’ve been acting like you are on the verge of bursting ever since we met the doctor.”

“Well maybe I’m just worried. Besides, I’m not the one who was flirting with the person who is suppose to be providing me with unbiased medical attention.”

“Honestly, Erik? You’re upset because I fake flirted with the doctor so you could come back here?”

“I don’t know! I’m sorry, okay? Look, I meant that I’m worried. And I’m also tired, and I don’t really like hospitals. I just want to figure out how to make you better and get out of here.”

Charles lays back on the examination table and stares at the ceiling.

“I won’t flirt with the doctor anymore. Happy?” Erik can’t see, but can hear his smug smile and doesn’t give him the satisfaction of answering. Instead he watches the steady rise and fall of Charles’ chest and waits for Dr. Summers to come back. 

||            ||            ||

Charles is still somewhat giddy on the fact that Erik was upset that Charles was fake flirting with someone else when Dr. Summers returns to retrieve him for his x-rays.

“They’re ready for you, Charles. You’re friend will have to stay here, but you’ll be back shortly,” Dr. Summers says, addressing Erik at the end of his statement. Dr. Summers looks relieved when neither of them argue this time. Erik stands to help Charles back into the wheelchair and not so willingly lets Dr. Summers wheel Charles out of the room. Charles gives him a reassuring smile as Dr. Summers pushes him around the corner of the doorframe.

It takes less than fifteen minutes for Charles to be x-rayed and return to his room, Dr. Summers in tow with the developed images. Charles opens the door from his wheelchair and finds Erik asleep on the examination table. He chuckles to himself, wheels over, and flicks him on the leg. Erik shoots up but settles when his eyes land on Charles. He rubs a hand over his face.

“What time is it?” Erik asks.

“About fifteen minutes later than it was when I left to get my x-rays.” Charles looks at the clock on the wall. “Two thirty in the morning to be exact.”

Dr. Summers clears his throat behind Charles, who turns and sees his x-rays displayed on the illuminator.

“As you can see,” the doctor says, “there are very clearly three separate fractures in the middle of your foot, but none in your ankle. Your ankle is sprained, but it will be easier to determine how best to go about returning it to its original strength once your foot is healed. Usually with a triple fracture, we would need to put you in a traditional cast, but due to the location of your fractures, a boot should do. The boot has to stay on constantly except for showering or sleeping. I would suggest crutches for a while because the sprained ankle is going to make it hard, if not impossible, to walk for a few days. I’m also going to give you a dose of hydrocodone to get you through the night, but after that ibuprofen should be enough. Let me go get your boot and a pair of crutches.”

Charles buries his face in his hands and groans once Dr. Summers is out of the room.

“What?” Erik asks gently.

“I am such an idiot. I managed to break my foot in three places and sprain my ankle while taking a shower. You have to admit that’s pretty pathetic.”

“It’s less pathetic than if you had done it by tripping on a daisy or something.” Erik shrugs.

Charles sighs.

“I just want to go home. I’m beyond exhausted.”

“Agreed,” Erik says. “You’ll probably sleep great because of the pain meds, though. And we should get out of here soon.”

As if on cue, Dr. Summers reenters the room the moment Erik finishes speaking. He is carrying crutches, a boot, and a tray. He passes the crutches over to Charles, but Erik grabs them before they even touch his hands. Dr. Summers pulls a chair up in front of Charles and carefully adjusts the boot around Charles’ foot and ankle. Once he deems it correct, he grabs the cup of pills from the tray and hands them to Charles along with a cup of water. Charles swallows the pills quickly, chases them down with water, and hands the cups back to Dr. Summers.

“You’re good to go now. The meds should start working in about twenty minutes.”

“Thank you, Dr. Summers.”

Erik helps Charles up from his chair and arranges the crutches beneath him. Charles takes an experimental hop forward, and Erik doesn’t let go until it’s clear Charles can manage by himself.

They stop by the front desk on their way out so Charles can sort out the final details. Finally, they are on their way back to their homes, and their beds.

||            ||            ||

Charles starts to get loopy less than five minutes from his house. His words slow down and slur together.

“Erik. Erik,” Charles says, tapping him on the shoulder. 

“Yes, Charles?” 

“You have very pretty eyes. What color are they even? I’ve never been able to tell whether they’re blue, grey, or green.”

Erik blushes despite himself. 

“I don’t know,” he replies. “I don’t exactly spend much time studying my eyes.”

“I do. And I still can’t tell. Oh, oh, I love this song.” Charles turns the radio up and starts singing along to Mind Over Matter by Young the Giant, messing up at least half of the lyrics. Erik lets out a quick, breathy laugh and rolls his eyes. 

They pull into Charles’ garage almost exactly as the song finishes and Charles falls into a fit of giggles for seemingly no reason. Erik parks the car and gets out. He grabs Charles’ crutches before going to the passenger side to help Charles out. Getting Charles up and with the crutches under him is easy, catching Charles when he falls five times between the car and the door is slightly less so.

“Just,” Erik begins, “don’t move for a second.”

He opens the door into the house, moves Charles up against a wall so he won’t fall over, takes the crutches into the house, and comes back to find Charles smiling to himself. Erik doesn’t bother asking.

“I’m going to pick you up. Okay, Charles? It’ll be easier and quicker than you falling every other step.”

“Mhm. You can pick me up any time. In fact, I insist you do it more often.”

Erik ignores him. He picks Charles up with a grunt and carries him into the bedroom, depositing him on the bed next to a half-asleep Raven. Charles lies back on the bed, pliant as Erik removes his boot and tucks him under the covers.

“You should stay here,” Charles suggests.

“You need sleep, Charles,” Erik replies, ignores how much he actually wants to crawl under the covers next to him.

“No, I know!” Charles looks like he’s had an apiphany. “We should have sex! Erik, did you know that I’ve wanted to have sex with you since we met? You were kind of grumpy, but still unbelievably sexy. Oh, and then the next time I saw you and you took your shirt off. That really wasn’t fair. Erik! Let’s have sex!”

Erik searches for an escape, but all he can do is wait for Charles to finish speaking. How is he supposed to get out of this without messing everything up? Charles better not remember this tomorrow.

“Charles, I am not having sex with you while you’re on pain meds. Go to sleep. I’ll come check on you in the morning.”

“Will you at least stay here?”

“Charles—” Erik warns.

“No, no, not here here. There’s another room in the basement. Moira’s the only one who ever stays in it so it probably smells like her.” And just like that, Charles is back to giggling, only now it’s interrupted by the occasional yawn.

“Fine, I’ll stay. Goodnight, Charles.”

“Mmm. Goodnight, sexy neighbor friend.”

Erik grabs the crutches from inside the door to the garage and sets them by Charles’ bed before heading downstairs. He really wants to believe that Charles thinks of him the same way he thinks of Charles, but he has to keep reminding himself that he can’t exactly hold Charles accountable for anything he says while under the influence of narcotic pain meds. Erik tries to clear his mind, and within minutes, he is asleep on the comfortable, large bed in Charles’ plainly decorated guest bedroom.

||            ||            || 

Raven’s whining wakes Charles up. 

“Hey, girl. What’s wrong?” 

Raven jumps up on the bed next to him and licks his face. Charles turns his face away from her, and that’s when he notices the time.

“Twelve-thirty? Raven, please don’t be whining because you peed or pooped somewhere in the house.”

He starts to get out of bed, but a sharp pain shoots through this foot and ankle. Suddenly, the entirety of last night comes back to him, including when his high-on-pain-pills self suggested to Erik that they have sex. Charles collapses back into the bed and groans. Raven starts licking his face again, and he sighs before carefully sitting up with his legs dangling over the bed. It takes him a few minutes to put his boot on and get the crutches semi-comfortably situated under his arms.

He hobbles out into the living room to find a freshly showered Erik sitting at the kitchen counter, reading the paper and drinking a cup of coffee. Charles notices that he’s wearing different clothes than yesterday. Erik looks up at the sound of Charles’ crutches on the wood floor.

“Good morning,” Erik says, setting down the paper and coffee mug and turning to face Charles. “I took Raven out this morning and gave her a scoop of food.”

“Well you’re being awfully nice to my, uh, ‘menace of an animal’ as I believe you’ve put it multiple times.”

Erik shrugs.

“She came and got me when you were hurt so I suppose she isn’t completely horrible,” he grumbles.

Charles simply rolls his eyes, and then they enter into an awkward silence, both knowing what happened last night but neither wanting to bring it up. Well, it’s probably better to just get it over with. Charles hobbles over to Erik and leans against the counter next to him, putting his crutches behind him.

“Um, about last night,” he begins quietly. “I’m sorry. I hope you understand that it was mostly the pain pills talking. Also, I can’t thank you enough for helping me and putting up with me. Anyways, I didn’t mean the stuff I said when we got back here. Well, that’s not completely true. I meant it, all of it. I really do like you, Erik, but you’re my friend and I don’t want to mess that up. I probably would have told you eventually I just regret it came out that way, if that—”

“Charles?”

“Yes?” 

“Shut up.”

And then Erik is kissing him. Charles only hesitates for a moment before kissing Erik back, enthusiastically. He tilts his head back to allow Erik better access and willingly parts his lips when Erik licks at them. Charles shifts his weight forward so he’s using Erik as a support instead of the counter, and Erik responds by grasping Charles under his ass. Charles, embarrassingly, yelps into the kiss when Erik lifts him up so he’s sitting on the counter. However, he quickly uses his new height to his advantage and takes control of the kiss. Erik slides his hand under the hem of Charles’ shirt, and Raven jumps on him, breaking off their kiss and nearly causing Erik to faceplant onto the floor.

“Raven!” they say in unison. Charles does so lightheartedly; Erik practically growls her name. 

Charles laughs and grabs the front of Erik’s shirt, pulling him in for another kiss.

||            ||            || 

One year later.

Erik had one condition when Charles asked him to move in: no dog in the bedroom while they have sex. Actually if they’re honest with themselves, that was a rule long before Erik actually agreed to move in. Erik wishes the rule could include no dog on the bed at any time, but he quickly learned that wasn’t happening.

Erik carries the last box of his stuff through the door and sets it down in the corner of the living room.

“That’s it,” he says, turning and walking towards Charles, who is cuddling with Raven on the couch. 

“I guess I can officially say it then. Welcome home, Erik.”

Charles smirks at him, and Erik leans down to give him a quick kiss. When Erik pulls back, Charles stands up. He follows Erik to the box and helps him begin unpacking it. There isn’t much in the box, just the few old pictures Erik has of him and his parents and newer ones of him and Charles. At the bottom of the box there is a wrapped box. Charles’ brow furrows when he notices it.

“What is this?” Charles asks, picking it up. Erik shrugs. 

“A present. Open it.” 

Charles shakes his head but starts unwrapping the box. His eyes light up when he realizes what it is.

“Oh, Erik, it’s beautiful,” Charles coos, admiring the mahogany inlaid chessboard with metal-capped pieces.

“I’m glad you like it. I figured it’s better than my old set.” Erik can’t help but smile.

Raven whines at the door behind them, her way of saying she needs to relieve herself. It only somewhat ruins the moment.

“Okay, Raven needs to go out, but then we are playing,” Charles says matter-of-factly.

“Deal.” Erik stands up and pulls Charles with him.

Charles opens the door to let Raven out, and they watch her from the porch as she runs around the yard and through the prairie grass.

“It’s kind of weird,” Erik says, looking over Charles’ head at his old house. Charles watches him as he talks. “I’m used to moving pretty often, but usually when I move, it’s at least a couple of states away, if not a different country. I’ve never exactly moved next-door before. I think I’ll stay for a while, though. I mean, there are a few things I don’t plan on living without anymore. You know, like the big backyard and cable.”

Charles nudges him playfully, and Erik wraps an arm around his shoulders. Charles fits himself perfectly into the curve of Erik’s side and tucks his head under Erik’s chin, wrapping both of his arms around Erik under his unzipped hoodie. 

Raven runs around for another ten minutes before she pees and runs back up onto the porch. The three of them go back inside, and Erik sets the chess set up on the coffee table while Charles pours them each a glass of scotch. Raven curls up around Erik’s feet while they play, and Erik scratches her behind the ear every once in a while.