Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Charles stepped out of the taxicab, calling out an appreciative “Cheerio!” to the driver in farewell before the yellow automobile rejoined the crawling traffic of Midtown Manhattan. Early April was a fine time to be in New York, warm enough for Charles to get away with just a cardigan, despite the wind still having a bit of a nip to it. This morning was rather chilly, so Charles had a warming sip of Earl Grey from the takeaway cup that Erik had made him bring along, accompanied by a chocolate croissant in a pastry bag.

Smiling down fondly at the items in his hand, Charles couldn't help feeling ridiculously touched. He bit into the crispy chocolate pastry as he surveyed the exterior of the Harry Winston outlet, admiring the high arches of the French-styled doorway and picture windows. The refined elegance of its creamy travertine exterior made it stand apart from its shiny glass-and-steel neighbours across the road, but Charles wasn’t exactly surprised. All the buildings along this stretch of Fifth Avenue were a mishmash of old and new, much like the rest of NYC itself. And, thanks to the close proximity to Central Park, Charles could still detect the fresh, flowery fragrance of its numerous cherry blossom trees, just in the new flush of first bloom as April trundled along. It was Charles’ favourite time to be in Manhattan. Just yesterday, he had visited a different part of Central Park with Erik, where they had tried to get a chess game going before giving up after attracting too many curious onlookers. They had then gone on a walk instead, hands entwined while discussing psychology, Erik extolling the virtues of Carl Jung’s theories while Charles had listened with rapt interest and barely concealed delight as Erik absently brushed back stray locks of Charles’ hair while talking.

Glancing at his watch, Charles found he still had a few minutes before his appointment, so he stood on the sidewalk to finish his tea first. The perfume of cherry blossoms lingering in the air made him smile to himself, reminding him of that time in Tokyo when Erik had visited him after several weeks apart, and they had held each other tightly while cottony-pink petals had drifted down all around them. It would be a memory forever etched in his mind, and whenever Charles recalled it, he could almost smell the spicy-sharp notes of Erik’s cologne, and hear the soft, calming thumps of Erik’s heartbeat, pressed against his ear.

Charles tried not to burst into a besotted grin, and failed. Aware that a fairly recognisable movie star smiling foolishly to himself in the middle of Fifth Avenue would not go unnoticed, Charles hid behind his cup of tea and tried to blend amongst the steady stream of tourists and Wall Street traders. He received a few curious looks and one double-take from a passing New Yorker walking her dog, but otherwise no one paid him much mind. He was just a man, standing in front of a jewellery store, intent on asking the love of his life for his hand in marriage.

It was ridiculous, the number of times he had come so close to simply blurting out to Erik, “Will you marry me, darling?” at the most random moments, like when they were entwined in bed, or sharing a bottle of wine over chess. This morning had been a particularly close shave, when Charles had woken up to find Erik gazing lovingly at him. “You were smiling in your sleep,” Erik had murmured, before kissing him softly. “Even after so long I still can't take my eyes off you. You're the most beautiful person I have ever seen.”

The heart-rending sincerity in Erik's words had made Charles’ eyes burn, and he had been so, so close to begging Erik to marry him on the spot. To counter this, Charles had pinned him down in bed and ravished him silly. Of course, the unexpectedly prolonged bout of morning sex had made Charles unwittingly behind time for his appointment at the jeweller's, and that had resulted in a mad scramble down to the lobby of the Carlyle, where they were being accommodated for the duration of the NYC shoot for their modern remake of ‘Strangers on a Train’. Erik had insisted on packing tea and a croissant from the breakfast area, overly concerned about him going hungry. In return, Charles had chuckled and called him a ridiculous man, while Erik happily terrorised one of the hotel staff into fetching him a paper bag. Later, they had kissed goodbye before Erik helped him into the waiting taxicab like a perfect gentleman, with Charles promising to return to the set in time for a late lunch as his driver pulled away.

Since he couldn't have told Erik that he was going to collect Erik's engagement ring, he had been forced to half-lie and say that he had an appointment to apply for his green card. It wasn't exactly untruthful; the appointment was later in the morning, but Erik of course believed him immediately, and Charles felt guilty abusing Erik's hard-won trust. It was in Erik's nature to be suspicious and cynical, but when it came to Charles, Erik would believe him even if he one day said that he was a time traveller from the future. Sighing as he finished the pastry, Charles reminded himself that it was for a good cause, and that Erik would definitely forgive him once he realised why.

It also helped that Charles truly was applying for a green card. Before Erik, Charles hadn't thought about obtaining citizenship in the States, content enough with only his British passport. But now that they were (hopefully) going to get married, Charles had been thinking about their future together, particularly regarding children. It was clear from their conversations that Erik wanted children as well, and Charles thought it would be easier for their little ones if at least one of their parents was also a US citizen. It would definitely help with applications to schools, at least. He didn't know if Erik would want to be naturalised too, but it was something they could discuss after they were married, even though he still wouldn’t be able to sponsor Erik as his spouse under the current laws.

Taking up dual citizenship made sense for Charles, considering all the work that he and Erik were doing here for the Human Rights Campaign in regards to getting the repulsive Defense of Marriage Act repealed. As promised, Charles had shared his plans to help the HRC that morning after the Oscars, ecstatic that Erik had been completely onboard with the idea. While Erik browsed through sites detailing the more than 1,100 federal rights denied to married same-sex couples in the US, Charles had found himself glancing between the man in his arms and their Oscars, standing side by side on the mantle over the fireplace, and wondering how this could possibly be real. After all, it wasn’t so long ago that he had been so far in the closet that he’d found Narnia. In the following couple of months since then, Erik had proven to be even more passionate about the cause than himself at times, even putting them down for the upcoming pride march in San Francisco at the end of June, and Charles loved being able to fight alongside Erik for something they both believed in.

One of the things the HRC had suggested was a video of the two of them appealing to the public to sign a petition for marriage equality, as well as getting people to write in to their elected officials to repeal DOMA. During the video shoot, Charles had talked about how the recent months had shown rapidly shifting public opinion on same-sex marriage, and what had seemed impossible yesterday now looked much like tomorrow’s inevitable. In contrast, Erik had spoken very seriously about his firm belief that same-sex couples deserved the same rights as hetereosexual couples. It ended with Charles appealing to viewers to be a part of this evolutionary cycle and sign the petition, while Erik gazed at him with a besotted, lovestruck expression that Raven and the others had made fun of for days afterward. However, the fans must have lapped it up, judging by how the video had garnered half a million hits within a few hours, prompting congratulatory calls from the HRC committee and an invitation to their gala dinner in Los Angeles. Of course, he and Erik had been too happy to accept.

Amusingly, Erik’s happiness had been short-lived when he had found out that Charles intended to auction off one of his blue cardigans. Charles had known Erik had a strong attachment to all of his sweaters, but even he had been caught off-guard when Erik began bidding on it during the live auction while Charles was onstage. Erik had carried on despite acknowledging Charles’ increasingly raised eyebrows, smirking in satisfaction whenever he got the upper hand in the bidding war. It wasn’t until Charles had pushed the auctioneer aside and announced, fondly exasperated, “For God’s sake, darling. I own five of these in the same shade,” that Erik had stopped, sulking as the rest of the ballroom erupted in amused laughter. Later, Charles had soothed him with kisses when he returned to their table and a whispered promise of some form of ‘compensation’ hereafter. Erik had cheered up after that, and they were both delighted that Erik’s little stunt had helped drive the final auction price of Charles’ cardigan to an obscenely staggering figure.

The sound of a car blaring its horn startled Charles out of his pleasant recollections, and he glanced at his watch. It was just about 9 in the morning, finally time for his appointment. Throwing away the paper cup and smoothing down his cardigan, he made his way into Harry Winston. As he had hoped, there was no one else in the store, apart from a row of extremely attentive sales staff and their manager, a greying older gentleman in a sharp black blazer, as they had made a concession to open the store early just for him. It really wouldn’t do to have Erik find out that Charles had collected his engagement ring from Page Six of the New York Post. He greeted them warmly and shook their hands, and the manager, Thomas, introduced his staff by name before inviting Charles to sit down in a private little nook. “Thank you so much for coming, Mr. Xavier. We hope you will like the final outcome.”

“Not at all, Thomas. And please do call me Charles,” he reassured the manager. It was rather dim in the store, and the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling reminded Charles of the ones in the main dining hall at the Westchester mansion. Thomas nodded at the nearest sales associate, who quickly made her way to the backroom. She emerged a few minutes later with a beautiful glass tray, on which perched a black velvet box. She carefully placed this down in front of Charles, who immediately sat up in excitement.

“We made sure to adhere to every specific requirement and detail of your design, Mr. Xa- I mean, Charles,” Thomas explained, lifting the lid of the elegant black box with just the tips of his fingers. Inside, there was a plush, dark blue jeweller’s ring box with the Harry Winston logo embroidered on the top in gold. Charles could feel his heartbeat begin to race at the mere thought of getting down on one knee and offering this very box to Erik.

“Brilliant. And the inscription?” Charles asked, unable to disguise the excitement in his voice.

Thomas deferred with a little bow. “As you specified, of course.” He nimbly took the cover off, then opened the clasp before unfolding the box. Harry Winston’s ring boxes were unique, in the sense that instead of having a top and bottom that opened like a clam, the boxes had butterfly flaps that surrounded the jewel in the middle. Each flap bore the embroidered gold Harry Winston logo as well, but Charles only had eyes for the ring tucked into the centre. It was a thick platinum ring, embedded with a 2 carat diamond that sparkled brilliantly even in the dim light. Thomas slid on a pair of white gloves, then gently retrieved the ring from its nest, showing Charles the inscription inside, just like he had requested. Pleased, Charles nodded with a grin, after which Thomas returned the ring to its box.

“We will leave you to inspect the ring at your leisure, Charles. Do ask if there is anything we can do for you.”

“Thank you, Thomas,” Charles said, smiling at the staff as they flitted out, leaving him alone with the ring. He couldn’t resist picking the box up and peering at it from all angles, imagining the ring nestled snugly right where it belonged, around Erik’s long, elegant finger. The ring was exquisite, and Charles could only hope that Erik would say yes to spending the rest of their lives together. He studied the ring for a while longer before closing the flaps of the box and fitting the cover back on top.

Calling for the staff, Charles arranged for payment and thanked them again for their help. If this had been any other store, they might have asked for his autograph, but he knew that the Harry Winston staff had far too much decorum to make such a request. Besides, Charles was willing to bet that they had served several other high-profile customers, so they were probably used to it. Instead, Charles requested that they called a taxicab for him, declining politely when they offered him a carrier bag for his purchase. The last thing he needed was for Erik to find a Harry Winston bag in the rubbish bin, and Charles planned on sneaking down to Westchester as soon as possible so he could lock the ring in the safe before Erik stumbled upon it.

Charles weighed the small velvet box in his hand, unable to stop himself from grinning as his giddy mind came up with a hundred different ways in which to propose, his heart set on going for a grand romantic gesture that would make all his past movies pale in comparison. He was so caught up in his daydreams that he barely registered the time it took for his transport to arrive, and would have probably missed his ride entirely had the doorman not alerted him. Charles smiled wistfully as he slipped the ring box into the safety of his trouser pocket, stepping out of the boutique and towards a hopeful future.

* * * * *

* * * * *

[Seven years ago...]

It was common sense that checking the mailbox constantly every five minutes would not make the mail arrive any faster, but Charles just could not help himself. He had already checked the mail five times that morning, and was just about to contemplate a sixth visit when he heard heavy footsteps and the cheerful humming of the FedEx delivery man. He flew out of his seat by the window and clattered downstairs, just in time to catch the courier with his finger hovering over the doorbell, eyebrows raised in surprise when he spotted Charles. “Mr. Charles Xavier?”

“That’s me,” Charles said, beaming as he reached for the pen and clipboard.

After signing for the package, Charles excitedly brought it into his living room. Carefully, he ripped open the package and slid out the framed cover, staring in awe at himself on the glossy cover of ‘Interview’. It was one of the more relaxed shots the photographer had snapped towards the end of the shoot, where Charles had his head tipped forward, smiling shyly at the camera. The headline, ‘Prepare for the British Invasion’ was printed across his collarbone, followed by the smaller subtitle, ‘Charles Xavier Takes Hollywood by Storm’ underneath. He still couldn’t quite believe that he was on the cover of a magazine. He had to sit down.

After a few minutes of trying to absorb the enormity of it all, Charles finally got his phone out and texted Raven to let her know that he had received the cover and advance copy, and her reply was a wordless “!!!!”, which made him laugh out loud. Carefully, he set aside the framed cover before reaching for the magazine which was encased in a separate manila envelope. He gingerly slid it out, brimming with barely contained excitement as he gazed at the actual magazine in his hands. It seemed like only yesterday when he was a skinny unknown actor, hoping for his first big break.

He flipped through the pages, bursting into a wide grin as he came upon the cover story. ‘Interview’ had decided to go with a serious photo of him with his forehead leaning against the wall, head tilted sideways to face the camera. He eagerly scanned through the text, remembering bits and bobs from the lengthy interview and photo shoot which had taken almost the whole day. But it was worth it, judging from the beautifully polished article and accompanying photos. Charles almost felt like he was looking at another version of himself, a far more glamorous and media-savvy doppelganger.

There was a very nice, in-depth mention about Moira and their natural, sizzling chemistry onscreen, and Charles had taken the opportunity to praise his co-star to high heavens. That section was accompanied by a publicity still from ‘The Blind Date’, where Charles’ and Moira’s characters had met for the first time. Of course, the interviewer had followed with the obligatory question of whether they were seeing each other offscreen, if rumours were to be believed, to which Charles had responded with an empathetic, “No, but Moira is my dearest friend.”

There was also a paragraph on how Charles had given up his post-graduate studies at Oxford to pursue acting, and Charles cringed at the way the text waxed lyrical on his ‘intelligent answers and impeccable manners’ being a testament to his ‘sterling education and posh upbringing’. If only they knew of the huge argument he had gotten into with Mother when he had announced his plans to give up his post-graduate studies, culminating in threats of disownment being hurled around until Father had stepped in. Yet, all that seemed like a lifetime ago now, along with the days of being able to walk into a pub and order a pint without having the place turn into a carnival.

Charles read through the entire article twice, just to keep an eye out for errors or misquotes. When he was finally done, he realised he needed a minute just to let the reality of it all sink in, just so he could accept that he had ‘made it’ on some level.

Letting out a pleased, happy sigh, he decided to flip through the rest of the magazine just for kicks, at least to take a break before his third re-read. But something on the very next page caught his eye, and he found himself staring at the glossy photo of a man whose eyes were neither blue nor green, but some intriguing shade in-between. The man’s stare was direct and completely unafraid, his white shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. Charles’ gaze trailed down his lean body, before noticing the headline: ‘Last Action Hero’ and below it, the name of this mysterious man – ‘Erik Lehnsherr’.

Charles was already more than intrigued. He continued reading.

It turned out that this Erik Lehnsherr was also an emerging star like him, but instead of romantic comedies, Erik’s area of expertise was blockbuster action movies. Erik’s first lead debut had hit the screens around the same time as ‘The Blind Date’ a few months ago, and there was a mention that Erik had two more upcoming roles. Making a mental note to drag Raven with him to the cinema to catch those movies, Charles eagerly continued to devour the text.

‘The German-born Lehnsherr does not apologize for the fact that he still has traces of an accent, or that he rarely smiles for photo opportunities. “I see no point in being fake,” he says bluntly, even as his agent flinches in the background. “Hollywood is made entirely of plastic. You can never be sure when someone is lying to you. Therefore, I choose not to do that. Being honest with someone is affording them respect.”’

Having himself been twisted and shaped by his PR team to fit the Hollywood mould, it was truly refreshing for Charles to read about someone who absolutely did not give a damn about his image or his reputation. In fact, Erik’s words made absolute sense, and he was just stating what everyone else was too polite to say. Hollywood was too plastic, and Charles knew from painful experience that people would say and do anything for fame and money. As he scanned through the rest of the interview, Charles couldn’t help agreeing with many of Erik’s shrewd, candid statements and observations about the business. Erik also had a very wry sense of humour that made Charles chuckle here and there, especially when pointing out cultural differences between Europeans and Americans.

Despite his blunt honesty and sharp tongue, it was clear that Erik also had a softer side that emerged when he was talking about his parents, who still lived in Germany. He had no qualms about admitting that he missed them, as it had not been financially viable for him to visit them until only recently. He spoke at length about the many sacrifices his parents had made throughout the years to afford acting lessons for him, as well as a plane ticket to LA. This struck a chord deep inside Charles, who found himself wishing that his own mother had been half as supportive. Erik was a very fortunate man to have come from such a loving family, of which he was obviously fond, and Charles briefly wondered what it was like to know these people, to find out if they were as warm in person as Erik had made them sound.

Charles found his eye occasionally wandering from the text to the photos of the man himself, distracted by Erik’s grim, smouldering gaze half-hidden in shadow. Even with such an in-depth interview, Charles still had no idea what Erik was really like.

“Stop it, Charles,” he told himself sternly. “You know the drill. It’s either your career or seducing handsome, brilliant actors to bed, you can’t have both. A gay Hugh Grant is not going to fill cineplexes.” Charles tried to force his hand to turn the page, but it was near impossible. His eyes were captivated by that icy, pale blue stare and he just couldn't look away.

After re-reading Erik’s interview for the fourth time, Charles decided there was no harm in admitting that, all right, perhaps he now had the tiniest crush on this enigmatic stranger. Besides, it wasn’t as though they were likely to be cast in the same movie. Sitting back, Charles couldn't help feeling a little deflated at this realisation that it would be quite a feat for him to ‘run into’ Erik in Hollywood, as they barely moved in the same circles. But it wasn't impossible, and in the meantime, he could always watch Erik’s movies and read his interviews while trying to think of a devious way to meet the man himself in the flesh, as it were. Dreading the merciless teasing that would surely arise from Raven’s end, he decided not to tell her anything in the meantime. What she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.

There was a sharp rapping on the door. Speak of the devil. “Charles! Quick, I want to see your magazine cover!” Raven bellowed, probably for the benefit of his neighbours. Chuckling, Charles quickly rose to let her in. Erik Lehnsherr would be his secret, for now.

It was two weeks later when Charles was out shopping with Raven that they happened to pass a newsstand, and the issue of ‘Interview’ with himself on the cover caught his eye, causing him to slow down and contemplate purchasing another copy. “Don't you already have the advance copy?” Raven demanded to know when she followed his gaze and noticed what he was staring at. “If you want more, I could always ask the publisher directly.”

“It's all right, my dear, no need to trouble them,” Charles said hastily as he dug out his wallet. He would feel bad asking for a free copy just so he could get to ogle Erik some more without all the creases, so he would rather purchase his own copy to do with as he pleased.

“It's no trouble! After all, you’re their cover star, dah-ling,” Raven drawled with a chuckle, draping an arm around Charles’ shoulders as he nudged aside a small rack – filled with maps to celebrities’ homes and picturesque postcards of Santa Monica – to procure a pristine copy of ‘Interview’.

“Raven, it’s not like I can’t afford it,” he reminded her. After paying for the magazine, he securely tucked it under his arm with a secretive little smile as Raven rolled her eyes at him. Since she wasn’t aware of his primary motive, he wondered what she must be thinking.

“Don’t go getting an ego now,” she teased him with a nudge as he felt his cheeks warm in a blush. “One day you’ll let fame get to your head and date only tall, gorgeous supermodels who are out of your league.”

Charles’ smile only widened. If only she knew the truth.

* * * * *

[Present day...]

Ever since the Oscars, Erik’s and Moira’s attitudes towards each other had somewhat improved, and at least they could now stand to be in the same room together, even sharing the odd joke here and there. But Charles wasn’t fooled, as he knew both of them far too well for them to pull the wool over his eyes. Now that they were all working on ‘Strangers on a Train’ – with him playing Guy and Erik cast in the role of the antagonist, Bruno – and spending a lot more time together, there were bound to be lapses of their forced harmony, and Charles spotted them all. Charles hadn’t missed the strained expression on Erik’s face whenever Charles was filming his scenes with Moira as his wife, Miriam, even though their ‘marriage’ was collapsing due to their mutual infidelity. Also, more than once, Charles had caught Moira pulling a face behind Erik’s back.

It was a good thing then that Jessica Chastain had come on board as the genteel, elegant Anne. Not only did the presence of a fourth person help to break up the lingering tension between Erik and Moira, but everyone really liked Jessica and, as a result, Erik and Moira seemed determined to be on their best behaviour whenever she was around. Charles was relieved that at least all four of them would be present for this morning’s official photo shoot, where publicity stills of the main cast would be taken. It was no secret that the reason Charles was getting to work with both Erik and Moira again was because of their director’s infamous penchant for stunt casting. Terrence Malick was obviously aware of the hype the movie would generate due to his casting choices, and Charles didn’t blame him for wanting to take advantage of it. Besides, any opportunity to work with Erik (and to a lesser extent, Moira) was a boon for Charles.

“Okay, Charles and Erik,” the photographer, Peter, called out, gesturing for them to move to the centre of the studio set. “You guys are up first. Erik, I want you to stand face-to-face with Charles and glare hatefully at him.”

Standing facing each other, Charles brushed his hand against Erik’s before trying to school his features into a serious expression. But it was difficult, because Erik looked absolutely gorgeous in his suit, and Charles could barely control the upwards twitch of his lips, aching to break out into a smile. Erik himself was obviously holding back a smirk, and his eyes were soft as he gazed at Charles.

“No, no, no,” Peter said impatiently, adjusting his spectacles. “Erik, stop gazing at Charles like you want to kiss him, man. You’ve gotta look at Charles with a lot more hate than that or I’m not taking the picture.”

“I’m trying,” Erik replied, a little irritated. Taking in a deep breath, Erik’s eyebrows drew together in displeasure as he frowned heavily at Charles. But only a moment later came a crack in the veneer and Erik’s attempt at a frown melted into a sheepish smile as he ducked his head. “Damn it, I can do this...”

“Think of Shaw, darling,” Charles murmured in a low voice, and Erik’s head whipped up immediately, a flash of anger in his eyes.

“There we go! You got it, Erik!” Peter announced in joy, followed by the frenzied clicking of his camera. “Okay, now angle your body to the left to face the camera more...”

They took a few more shots like that, followed by a set in which they recreated the iconic scene where Guy and Bruno met on the train, and then it was time for Charles’ shots with Jessica. Her studio makeup was thick and immaculate, and she was standing close enough that he could smell the floral scent of her high definition finishing powder. To the side, he was aware of Erik keenly watching the proceedings, and Charles fought hard not to smile when he heard Moira telling Erik to ‘lighten up’.

Peter directed Charles to place a hand on Jessica’s hip and the other on the small of her back, as though they were slow-dancing. Once the photographer was satisfied, he arranged them in a few more poses, including one where they looked as though they were about to kiss. To be honest, Charles was more than used to this, having gone through several takes of close-up kissing scenes for almost all his movies over the years. But he found himself wishing he could do this with Erik, instead of Jessica or any of the dozens of actresses who had previously been Charles’ co-stars. He glumly wondered when society would be ready for movies with gay leads to be the norm, not the exception.

After the ‘romantic’ photos, Peter wanted some shots of Charles and Moira together, but he made it very clear that he wanted them to look as strained and unhappy as possible. Exchanging a quick, amused smile with Moira, Charles closed his eyes and tried to put himself in a mental state of utter despair. Instantly he thought of one of his most miserable nights in Japan, when he had just said goodnight to Erik over Skype and was badly craving his touch, his kiss. That night had been one of the loneliest in his life.

He opened his eyes again. It must have worked, because Moira seemed startled by the look on his face and Peter was gleefully yelling out, “Perfect!” and snapping picture after picture.

He did some individual photo shoots as well, and when they were finally done, Charles had never been more glad to drop the false animosity he had been forced to harbour towards Erik and Moira. He slung an arm each around both of them as the four leads laughed and chatted in a little circle while they waited for Peter to get the set ready for Erik’s shoot, and Moira was muttering, “Erik, don’t look so relieved that they aren’t making us take a picture together.”

Jessica tittered with laughter as Erik rolled his eyes. “Well, what could they have taken a photo of? Me strangling you? That’s our only scene together, really,” he said.

“True,” Moira mused dryly. “Although I have to say that you did seem to enjoy throttling me a little too much.”

The ghost of a smirk flashed across Erik’s face for the quickest of moments. “Stop being ridiculous, Moira,” he said, coming off entirely serious.

“Uh huh.” Moira was smiling, as though she didn’t seem to have bought it. “I suppose it wasn’t revenge for all those love scenes I shot with Charles in the past.”

Charles could feel Erik’s arm around his waist tighten, and he flashed a warning look to a self-satisfied Moira. Why did she derive such pleasure in needling Erik every chance she got? Then again, Charles had to be fair. Erik had looked a little too gleeful with his hands around Moira’s throat when they had shot the scene where Bruno strangled Miriam. In fact, he had admitted as much to Charles in the aftermath. Terrence had called it an early day because Moira had ended up with a couple of minor lacerations after they tried a take where Erik ‘choked’ her using Miriam’s necklace instead. He and Erik had squabbled on the way back to the hotel, after Charles had made sure Moira was all right. Erik had insisted that the injuries were accidental, and Charles did believe him, but he had also been trying to coax Erik to admit that he had gotten carried away in his role and exerted a little too much force during the scene. “So what if I did?” an exasperated Erik had finally said when they were back in their suite. “It’s not like I deliberately meant to hurt her. I don’t know my own strength sometimes.”

At this, Charles’ gaze had flickered down to Erik’s hands; strong, square, and long-fingered. Perfect for manhandling. A rush of heat flared up in Charles at the thought of Erik roughing him up. “But I do,” Charles had said, his mouth twisting up as he took one of Erik’s palms and placed it on his own collarbone. “Your strength is very intense, darling.”

Erik had seemed confused as he stared at his hand sprawled on Charles’ chest. “But you know I’d never use it to hurt you.”

Charles had taken this opportunity to grab hold of Erik’s shirt and pull him closer. His heart was thumping at the thought of Erik pinning him down and just taking him as he pleased, a hand wrapped around his throat to hold him in place. “What if I wanted you to?”

Erik’s eyes had widened, and it had taken a fair amount of coaxing from Charles while in the midst of their bedroom activities before Erik had finally given Charles what he was begging for. Erik had tightened his long fingers around Charles' throat, the pace of his thrusts quickening, and Charles had been briefly aware that he was harder than he'd ever been in his life before both of them spiralled into blissful oblivion. The next day, Charles had blushed to find a matching set of bruises around his throat that pretty much mirrored Moira’s, and the chief makeup artist had sworn up and down to kill Erik as she hunted for a shade of concealer pale enough for Charles’ skin. Moira had only laughed when she saw his set of identical bruises while Sean, who had shown up that day to make sure Erik didn't overdo it again, had been appalled at the sight, even toying with the idea of telling Erik off. “Don’t bother, it’s some weird sex thing for them,” Moira had drawled, and Sean’s horror had dissolved into comic disgust.

The assistant coming over to hurry Erik away drew Charles out of his thoughts, and he gave Erik a quick kiss before Erik went back in front of the cameras. Charles watched as Erik posed for the shots, his presence commanding and with that slight air of danger about him that was starting to get Charles rather flustered. He turned to Moira for a moment, who was on her phone. Judging from the wide smile on her face, she must be talking to Sean. Charles remembered her telling him that, after her part for ‘Strangers on a Train’ was done filming, she would be flying over to Scotland to begin production for ‘Muir Island’, the movie that Sean had spent most of last year writing for her, much to Alex's chagrin.

Feeling a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind, Charles didn’t even have to turn to figure out who it was, instantly relaxing in Erik’s embrace. “I need a shower desperately,” he heard Erik murmur in his ear, before planting a kiss right below his earlobe.

“Sounds like a brilliant idea,” Charles replied, stroking Erik’s hand which was clamped across his abdomen. “Which is just as well, because I’d like to try something again.”

He felt Erik turning him around so that they were facing each other once more, his eyebrows raised. “You mean…what Bruno did to Miriam?”

Laughing as he nodded, Charles could feel the heat suffusing his cheeks. “I was just pleasantly reminiscing about it.”

Erik’s eyes went dark as they darted down to Charles’ throat. “So that’s why you were staring at me so hungrily just now.”

Charles stood on his tiptoes to fondly kiss Erik. “Darling, I’m offended. I’m, always staring at you like that, you know,” he said, and they both laughed as they exited the studio, their arms wrapped around each other.

* * * * *

* * * * *

Throughout all the years that Raven had known Charles, she had never seen him this blissful and content. For so long he had always put others first before himself, and she knew all too well the number of sacrifices he had made just to appease everyone. So it was almost a shock to be witness to the complete turnaround in Charles’ life, as Erik placed making Charles happy as his number one purpose for existing, and devoted his time and energy to him accordingly. Raven instinctively knew that Erik was the genuine article, and that he wasn’t after Charles’ wealth or looks. He was madly in love with Charles.

So, one day when Raven was in her suite with Darwin to discuss Charles’ upcoming schedule for the next few months, she wasn’t at all surprised when Charles came to them with the biggest smile and the biggest plans. After all, it was really only a matter of time before one of the two lunkheads would get down on one knee to propose to the other. In fact, Raven even had an ongoing bet with Emma about it. She sat passively as Charles rattled on and on about his plans to ask for Erik’s hand, trying not to snicker at how Darwin’s eyebrows climbed increasingly higher and higher.

“I just want to make the grandest gesture I can think of,” Charles said, his eyes alight with excitement as he waved his hands around. “I want to romance Erik, I want to sweep him off his feet–”

“In other words, you’re going to treat Erik like one of the girls in your rom-coms,” Raven said flatly.

Laughing, Charles whacked her on the arm with the stack of papers he was holding. “Thank you for that, I appreciate the encouragement.”

Raven grinned, patting his hand. “I was just teasing. Besides, we both know how long you’ve been fantasising about this moment, ever since you were drooling over Erik in a loincloth in ‘Sparta’.”

Poor Darwin cringed. “Ugh, can we please not talk about Erik in loincloths? I still have PTSD from having to watch that movie so many times.”

A grinning, slightly flushed Charles held up his hand apologetically as he made his way to the hotel phone. “My apologies, let me make it up to you.” When he ordered a bottle of Dom Pérignon from room service, Raven and Darwin exchanged gleeful looks.

After the bubbly was delivered and poured into three flutes, Raven took hers from Charles and sat cross-legged on her bed, inviting Charles and Darwin to do the same. “To Charles and his proposal!” she announced, lifting her glass in a toast.

“Hear, hear!” Darwin said, and they all clinked their glasses together before downing the fizzy champagne.

“Mmm, so good,” Raven murmured, even as Charles was dutifully topping up her glass again. “And what are your plans to propose to the shark again?”

Darwin laughed heartily, swaying on the bed while Charles couldn’t help chuckling. “Well, I’ve got to get a ring big enough for his dorsal fin first, haven’t I?”

“Liar,” Raven said, smiling widely. She knew Charles like the back of her hand. “You already have it locked up somewhere.”

Charles conceded with a tip of his head. “Guilty as charged. It’s being kept safely at Westchester, because I plan to propose to Erik there.”

“Ah, a proposal at their own love nest,” Darwin said with a dramatic sigh that made Raven giggle. “So what are some of the ideas you have?”

Tilting his head in contemplation, Charles swirled the champagne in his glass thoughtfully. “I know Ellen and Portia celebrate their anniversaries by means of skywriting. How about I ask them for the contact of their skywriter, then hire him to write, ‘ERIK DARLING WILL YOU MARRY ME’ above the general vicinity of North Salem?”

The giggles were out before Raven could stop them, because she could just imagine Erik’s mortification at the whole state of New York looking up at the sky and gawking at Charles’ proposal to him. “Are you sure Erik will be on board with that?” she asked, once her giggling fit had subsided. Damn champagne, why did Charles always order the good stuff?

“Well, why not?” Charles asked, his excitement not at all dampened one bit. “Darwin, what do you think?”

“Er.” Darwin’s brow was furrowed; he was probably trying to imagine Alex’s reaction if he had come up with such a public proposal. “It’s hard to say. Alex might think it’s cheesy, but then again, Erik thinks you can do no wrong.”

“Erik does think the sun shines out of Charles’ ass,” Raven agreed, as both Charles and Darwin spluttered.

“No more champagne for you, young lady,” Charles pretended to chide her, but when he was topping up their glasses, he gave in to her pleading pout and filled hers as well.

“Well, you know what I meant,” she said by way of apology. “Erik would love the mere fact that you’re proposing, he would say yes even if you proposed to him while standing on your head with Shaw hired to breakdance in the background.”

Darwin laughed out loud while Charles tilted his head at her in amusement. “I want to ask Erik to marry me, not scar him for life, you know.”

“Good point,” Darwin chimed in, helping himself to the champagne. “Anyway, jokes aside, if you’re going for grand gestures, I think the skywriting works.”

“I’ll ask Ellen and Portia for you so you won’t have to sneak around behind Erik’s back,” Raven offered, and Charles gave her a grateful smile.

“Thank you very much, my dear,” he said, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. “Now, I’m also thinking of proposing under the gazebo. I love it tremendously, and it was Erik’s gift to me for our anniversary.”

Raven couldn’t help thinking of what Hank had gotten her for their anniversary. It had been a lovely silver necklace from Tiffany’s with a custom-made pendant in the shape of a raven, and she knew he had saved up for a long time to afford that. She absently fingered the pendant now, missing Hank dearly. Although he may not be as well off as either of the two schmucks, he had always made her feel important and loved, and it didn’t matter to her that he couldn’t afford much on a cameraman’s salary.

She blinked when her attention snapped back to Charles and Darwin animatedly discussing decorations for the garden. “I want to line the sides of the pathway to the gazebo with calla lilies,” Charles said, lips pursed in thought. “Can you source for a florist who will be able to supply a few hundred of them, at least? Get them to come down and see exactly how many will be needed to line the path.”

“I’ll take care of that.” Darwin took out his tablet and tapped on it, making a few notes. “When will this be?”

“I was thinking we could start making arrangements right now. Erik and I will be leaving for D.C. soon, so you'll have free reign of the estate while we're away,” Charles suggested.

Raven piped up with a question that had been nagging her. “Why calla lilies? They seem like they’d be harder to get hold of in large quantities.”

A soft smile grew on Charles’ face, and Raven would honestly never get tired of seeing her best friend this happy. “Erik told me that, when he was younger, he helped his mother plant calla lilies in the backyard of his childhood home in Düsseldorf. They would flower again every spring.” Charles’ voice was getting softer and softer here as he played with the watch around his wrist. “So calla lilies remind him of his childhood, and although his family wasn’t well-off, they were happy because they had one another. I want to convey some of that meaning to him, by telling him Westchester is our home, and I’ll be happy as long as I have him.”

There was a long moment of silence after Charles was done speaking, and Darwin was rubbing Charles’ back while Raven gave him a wistful smile. She couldn’t help wishing that she and Hank could be more like Charles and Erik, who clearly told each other every minute detail about their lives. But as it were, she only saw Hank about once a month due to their conflicting work schedules, and they could hardly afford to waste any precious second they had together. She stifled a sigh, realising that she had to be grateful for what she already had. “It’s a good thing Erik is a closet soppy romantic, just like you,” she told Charles, who grinned and leaned in to kiss her temple.

“Anyway, we’ll probably need to rope Remy in,” Darwin suggested. “We need him to make sure his boss doesn’t go anywhere near Westchester.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t imagine doing this without that dear chap,” Charles said with a grin, whipping out his phone and looking up Remy’s number in his contacts to give him a call.

He waited for a few moments before Remy finally picked up, and greeted him warmly. “Remy! How is everything?”

Raven jabbed in the direction of Charles’ phone, mouthing, “Speakerphone!” to him. He quickly got it and put Remy on, and they managed to catch the tail end of his sentence, his tinny voice filling the suite. “—quite busy, Erik is quite the slavedriver, n’est-ce pas?”

Charles’ eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh? What is Erik keeping you busy with? Remind me to have a word with him about overworking you, my friend.”

Remy now sounded a little guilty. “Oh, nothing, nothing, just some errands I have to run for him. Anyway, how can I help you, mon cher?”

Raven couldn’t help grinning as she watched Charles turn a nice flushed pink, clearly excited at the mere thought of matrimony. “I’m going to propose to Erik quite soon,” Charles gushed, holding the phone nearer to his mouth so that Remy could hear him clearly. “I’m making plans to do this at Westchester, so I will need to enrol Darwin, Raven and you. And both of them have already agreed, bless them.” Charles flashed both of them a grateful smile, but it faltered when Remy remained entirely silent on the phone. “Hello? Are you still there, Remy?”

“Oui, oui, I am,” Remy said a little hurriedly. “When exactly do you intend to propose again?”

“After Erik and I get back from the location shoot in D.C.,” Charles explained. “You’ll be available to help, right?”

Raven, who had been listening with an increasingly doubtful expression just like Darwin’s, was surprised when Remy sounded reluctant to help. “I’m sorry, Charles, I’ll be quite busy at that time and won’t be able to help. It’s...my mother’s birthday.”

Charles’ face fell, but it was obvious he was trying to maintain a cheery tone. “Of course, I understand, that’s far more important. Just do me a favour, though. Could you make sure Erik doesn’t pop by the house?”

“Oui, I promise he will be kept completely in the dark,” Remy declared, and maybe Raven was hearing things, but did Remy sound rather...relieved? The whole thing was a little odd, because ordinarily Remy loved doing things for both Erik and Charles, treating the two of them equally as his bosses. But then again, he did have a valid reason for not being around, so Raven supposed she couldn’t blame him.

“Thank you, my dear chap,” Charles replied with a small smile. They said their goodbyes, and it was obvious Charles was a little disappointed as he hung up. “Well, I guess we’ll have to count Remy out,” he told Raven and Darwin.

“Don’t worry, we’ll help all we can,” Darwin swore, gesturing between himself and Raven, who also nodded eagerly. “Besides, Erik follows you everywhere. If you don’t step into Westchester, it’s highly unlikely he will.”

Raven couldn’t help smirking. “Darwin is completely right. If you say ‘jump’, Erik will say ‘how high, mein Liebling? And would you like a cup of tea as well?’” she said in what she thought was quite a good imitation of Erik’s slight accent.

Charles quirked an eyebrow at Raven as Darwin started laughing. “Erik isn’t my slave, you know,” he said primly.

“No? Then he must be some creature you created in a lab just to love you and schtupp you,” Raven retorted with a chuckle.

It was highly amusing to watch Charles turn various shades of pink, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish as Raven and Darwin giggled like crazy. “Oh, come now,” Charles finally managed to say, even though he was smiling. “You’re making Erik sound like Frankenstein’s monster!”

Reaching over to top off their glasses with the last of the champagne, Raven couldn’t help grinning. “Charles, you have to admit he totally is.”

To his credit, Charles didn’t seem in the least bit offended. In fact, there was a mischievous smirk growing on his face. “That’s quite ironic coming from you, my dear, seeing as how Hank is completely henpecked by you.”

As the boys roared with laughter while Raven was indignantly protesting that she wasn’t bullying Hank, there was a sharp, rapid rat-tat-tat on the door. As she wondered who it was, Raven spotted Charles perking up instantly, beaming brightly as he jumped to his feet and scuttled over to the door, glass in hand. Of course, there could only have been one person who would have this effect on him.

Raven’s guess was proven right when Charles swung open the door, the smile on his face brilliant enough to outshine all the glitz of Hollywood as Erik stepped into the suite, his gaze instantly locking on Charles as he returned Charles’ besotted grin. “Hello, darling,” Charles murmured before giving Erik a thorough welcome-back kiss, which Erik quickly got absorbed in before he seemed to have remembered they had a gawking audience.

“I could hear the noise from down the corridor.” Erik spied the champagne glasses that everyone was holding, and he smirked. “Having fun without me, I see?” he teased Charles, kissing his temple.

“Nonsense, love, I saved some bubbly for you,” Charles protested, handing Erik his flute. As Erik knocked back the last of the champagne, Raven rolled her eyes at the way Charles was riveted to the smooth flex and give of Erik’s throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

“Let me get this straight,” Raven said, trying to wash the image from her brain. “Charles, you actually memorised Erik’s knock?”

Charles seemed to blink rapidly, as though coming out of a spell, and arched an eyebrow at Raven. “I suppose it’s a piece of knowledge I acquired without meaning to, as a result of us living together for so long.”

“They’re hopeless, man,” Darwin complained to Raven, shaking his head. “Just don’t encourage them if you want to keep your dinner.”

“Speaking of which, I haven’t eaten yet,” Erik told Charles, who looked up at him in concern and started rubbing Erik’s belly in circles. “That meeting with Emma and the suits took forever, and you know Emma only ever orders salad and water.”

“You haven’t eaten? Poor dear,” Charles murmured, nuzzling Erik’s chin. “We could call room service, or we could try that new Argentinean restaurant in the East Village.”

“You know, I’ve always wanted to go to Argentina,” Erik mused, brushing back Charles’ hair and kissing his forehead. “We should make plans after we’re done with this movie, go drink some beer—"

“Hey, geniuses,” Raven called out as Darwin started laughing. “Sorry to burst your private little lovey-dovey bubble, but you guys are technically in my room, you know.”

Both Charles and Erik seemed surprised that they were not alone, and Charles nodded apologetically. “Right, sorry about that. We’ll get out of your hair.”

As they turned to leave, Raven could see Erik’s profile as he smiled and whispered something in Charles’ ear before kissing it, and Charles’ murmured reply, ‘Missed you, too,’ before the door closed behind them, and both Raven and Darwin let out a relieved sigh. “So, after we check and make sure we don’t have diabetes, we should get started on what Charles talked about,” Raven said, as Darwin grinned brightly.

“Sure. However, I warn you, marriage is just going to make them ten thousand times worse,” Darwin pretended to grumble as he opened his laptop, ready to research florists.

“I can’t possibly imagine them any worse than they are now,” Raven said with a sigh. “Damn, how are we going to survive the wedding?”

“I’ll get Alex to bring enough insulin for everyone,” Darwin remarked, and Raven couldn’t stop chuckling.

* * * * *

[Two years ago...]

Buying his own place with his own hard-earned money was a rite of passage that thrilled Charles to no end. It spelled a new kind of liberty for him from his parents, especially after the massive argument he had had with Mother about his new career path. She had threatened to cut him off from the family fortune, and while Father had intervened and promised that they would never do that to him, Charles still didn’t quite relish the thought of using his parents as a security blanket. He had wanted to make it on his own. Thankfully, the money from ‘The Blind Date’ and ‘All the Lonely People’ had secured him a large, lovely house in a gated community in Bel Air. The first thing he had done was to give Raven, Darwin and Moira a key each, for emergencies. However, Raven seemed to drop by all the time anyway, citing ‘lack of alcohol’ and ‘extreme boredom’ as emergencies, and an amused Charles decided that there was no harm in her constant presence. It made him feel a little less lonely, at least. A large, four-bedroom McMansion seemed pointless when he had no one to share it with, and it seemed extremely unlikely that Erik Lehnsherr, the object of his lurid daydreams, would turn up naked at his doorstep with his suitcases and a devilish smile.

The sound of the door banging open and Raven yelling hello startled Charles, and he barely had any time to collect himself before Raven burst into the living room. She was grinning incessantly, eyes sparkling, her cheeks flushed with excitement. And something seemed to be concealed behind her back.

“Well, look at you,” Charles said, chuckling. “What are you hiding, my dear? Excited about something?”

Her smile turned coy. “Before I tell you, I need you to promise me a few things,” she said, tilting her head playfully.

“Oh?” Charles arched an inquisitive eyebrow. “Such as?”

To his amusement, Raven skipped over to the sofa, keeping her hands well-hidden behind her body even as he tried to sneak a peek. “No cheating! Before I let you have a look, you must promise to love me forever and ever–”

“Raven–”

“And give in to me for the rest of eternity, and agree with everything I say–” she merrily carried on, without skipping a beat.

“My dear, I–”

“And buy me anything my heart desires,” she said with an air of finality. “Deal?”

“Raven,” Charles said, a little exasperated and glad to get a word in. “I rather think I do all of that already...”

Laughing, Raven plopped down on the sofa next to him and nudged him with her foot. “Fine, I admit you do kinda spoil me.”

“Of course I do,” Charles said loftily, pulling her close to kiss her temple, but at the same time, he tried sneaking a hand behind her to yank at whatever she was hiding.

Raven let out a yelp, freeing an arm so she could smack him. “Hey! You’d better be nice to me, you’ll owe me big time for this one!”

“Fine, fine,” Charles placated her, patting her hand gently. “You’ll always be my leading lady, you know that.”

Smiling with satisfaction, Raven finally pulled out the object she had been hiding behind her back, and Charles was intrigued when he saw it was a script. Taking it as she handed it over to him, he squinted at the title. “‘First Class’? This is not some porn movie set on an airplane, is it?”

Raven snorted. “You wish, you pervert.” She reached over, flipping to the synopsis so Charles could see for himself what it was about. He scanned through it quietly, but his heart fell as he realised it sounded like any other thriller-slash-murder-mystery. It was about two FBI agents who were on a global manhunt for a serial killer, but to be honest it wasn’t any different from the plots of a hundred other existing movies he could think of. The only aspect that might possibly warrant any excitement was the involvement of Sebastian Shaw as producer, but other than that, there was nothing much to shout about. His disappointment must have been obvious because Raven was now looking at him in concern.

“Well, at least it’s not another rom-com,” he said with a weak smile. However, Raven only gave him a knowing look.

“No, it’s not,” she said artfully, getting up from the sofa and gesturing towards the script. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to take a quick glance at it. You’re up for the part of Agent James McAvoy, I think his character suits you to a T. Let me know what you think.”

“Sure, my dear.” Charles was frankly a little disappointed – and mystified – as to why Raven had made him promise her heaven and earth before giving him the script. Did she really think he would be happy enough that it wasn’t one more chick flick?

“Oh, by the way,” Raven said, almost as an afterthought, as she stopped by the doorway. “I spoke with Sebastian Shaw. He said he’ll get the agent of the other male lead to toss him into a frigid ocean if he has to, but he’s as good as signed.”

Charles raised both eyebrows at her. “Oh? Who are they thinking of casting?”

The smirk on Raven’s face widened into the biggest grin. “He’s your dearest imaginary husband, Erik Lehnsherr.”

Pure shock made Charles’ jaw drop as he gawked at her in amazement, but the silence only lasted a nanosecond before he let out a loud whoop of excitement and jumped up from the sofa, sprinting towards her and grabbing her in a crushing hug. “Are you serious? Please tell me you’re serious, and this is not some kind of joke,” he begged her.

Raven scoffed as she released him. “Would I joke about something so important to you? Give me a little credit, Charles.” But she was beaming now, obviously pleased at his joy.

“Oh, my goodness.” Charles felt like he could float away into the clouds, like it was all too surreal and he would wake up at any moment to find that it was all a dream. This was the best news he had gotten ever since he had received the call saying he had won the part of Robbie Turner in ‘The Blind Date’. Years and years of stalking red carpets and narrowly missing Erik at events and award shows were finally coming to fruition. “This means...when will we be meeting him and his agent?”

Whipping out her schedule, she scanned it intently before her finger landed on a date. “Next Friday afternoon, in fact. We’re meeting Shaw at the 20^th Century Fox studios, along with Erik and his agent, Emma Frost.”

Charles blinked at her. Friday. Friday. He was finally, finally getting to meet Erik on Friday. Already he was mentally running through his wardrobe and trying to think of the best thing to wear, and making a note to schedule an appointment with his hairdresser...

“Ahem!” Raven snapped her fingers in front of him to get his attention, and he realised he must have drifted off with a glazed look. “Charles, I forbid you to hit on Erik or dry-hump him the moment you meet him.”

Charles tried his best to look offended, as though he hadn’t already been thinking of the best pick-up lines to use on Erik. “Of course not, I would never–”

“I’m serious,” Raven said, and she looked sombre enough that Charles stopped talking, guilt washing over him. She had probably pulled many strings and used all her connections to get him this gig, and he didn’t want to throw away all her hard work just because he couldn’t keep his pants on in front of Erik. He stepped forward and hugged her, and it only took a moment for her arms to wrap around him as well.

“Don’t worry, I promise I’ll behave,” he told her, and he really did mean it. He wanted to make the best possible first impression, and thus, he would have to resist the temptation to flirt with Erik and keep it as professional as possible. Besides, it would be far better if they were friends first. The most important connections in Charles’ life – Raven, Moira, Darwin – all bore a deep undercurrent of friendship, and Charles hoped that any working relationship he would develop with Erik would be just as meaningful and lasting.

“All right, then.” Raven seemed satisfied with the sincerity of his answer. She let him go and rubbed his shoulder. “Anyway, this calls for a celebration. Shall I crack open that vintage Pinot Noir we got last week?”

Charles couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear. “Quite frankly, I was going to save it for a special occasion. But this is definitely it.”

* * * * *

[Present day...]

Charles adjusted the collar of his pristine white tuxedo shirt for the millionth time. Stage fright was seldom a problem for him anymore, but occasionally he did get a case of butterflies in his stomach. The Oscars had been one such instance, and now the White House Correspondents’ Dinner that he and Erik had been invited to attend tonight was making him a little nervous, too. Erik and himself happened to be in Washington D.C. for the location shoot of ‘Strangers on a Train’ and, although Charles had felt rather disappointed that their filming schedule had prevented them from being present at the Supreme Court hearings for DOMA and Proposition 8, it had been such an honour to receive the invitation from President Obama’s office to attend the Dinner. Charles wanted to leave the best impression possible. He checked his watch, which was of course the Cartier one that Erik had given him for their first Christmas and Hanukkah; he wouldn’t dream of wearing anything else, and it went splendidly with his black silk Burberry Prorsum tuxedo.

He smiled when he noticed it was almost time for Erik to be heading back to the hotel. Erik had been held back to film some additional coverage in the afternoon, and while Charles had been perfectly willing to wait at the set for him, Erik had insisted that Charles head back to the hotel first to rest up and get ready for tonight’s Correspondents’ Dinner. When Charles had been about to protest, Erik had then convinced him with a tender kiss, which had made the crew all around them burst into a chorus of ‘awws’, causing Charles to concede with a laugh. Charles rather liked the crew who were working with them in D.C., and quite a few of them had been with Charles and Erik on ‘First Class’ as well.

Charles immediately straightened when he heard the soft ‘beep’ of the hotel key card being swiped through the door access, and he turned just in time to spot Erik letting himself in. The mere sight of Erik made something in his chest shift, and Charles found himself smiling like a lunatic. “There you are, darling.”

Erik himself seemed to be frozen in place, his eyes wide and appreciative as they roamed up and down Charles’ body. “You look...magnificent.” He finally closed the door behind him, before coming up to wrap his arms around a ready and willing Charles.

“Flatterer,” Charles teased him with a nudge, before leaning up for a kiss. He didn’t want to fall into the stereotype of those nauseating couples who couldn’t be apart from each other for only a few hours, but he truly did miss Erik whenever he was away for any length of time. Raven had snorted at them and called it a co-dependent relationship, but to be fair, it wasn’t that Charles couldn’t survive without Erik. It was like what Sean had said once: ‘It’s like having a vital part of your soul missing.’ Charles couldn’t have agreed more.

“How am I a flatterer if I’m only telling the truth?” Erik retorted, grinning when Charles pretended to roll his eyes. “It’s not my fault you take my breath away.”

Chuckling, Charles wound his arms around Erik even tighter. “Not that I’m not enjoying the flood of compliments, but why are you being especially sweet today?”

To his surprise, he saw Erik’s eyes dart away from his guiltily. “No reason.”

Charles arched an eyebrow at him. Something definitely didn’t seem right. “Darling?”

“I should go shower and change,” Erik said briskly, taking Charles’ wrist gently and eyeing his watch. “We don’t want to be late.” Here, Erik placed a tender kiss to the inside of Charles’ wrist, right above his pulse point, before letting his hand drop. It felt shockingly intimate, and Charles allowed himself to palm the side of Erik’s face, deciding to ignore any whisper of his earlier suspicion. He trusted Erik wholeheartedly.

Erik placed a kiss on his forehead. “Wait for me? I’ll be done in thirty minutes.”

Charles rubbed the nape of Erik’s neck, massaging it gently. Poor Erik must have had a long, tiring day filming while Charles was lounging around in their suite. “I waited five years for you, surely another thirty minutes is nothing,” he said teasingly, as Erik chuckled.

“If I could have met you five years earlier, I would,” he replied with a sigh as he reluctantly released Charles to pick up his bathrobe which Charles had laid out for him on the bed. “Anyway, speaking of time, I’d better hurry up.”

All in all, Erik was ready in less than twenty, groomed and exceedingly handsome in his black, single-breasted Calvin Klein tux. Charles couldn’t stop his hands from running up and down the silk peak lapels which splendidly framed Erik’s chest. “You shouldn’t have worn this,” Charles warned him.

Erik tilted his head at Charles with a gorgeous smirk. “You don’t like it?”

Charles could only grin back. “So much so that I may have to rip this off you and tie you up with it.”

Chuckling, Erik’s mouth quickly sought out Charles’, and the room was filled with the rustling of their tuxedos and the soft, slick sounds of their kisses. Erik broke off first, breathing heavily as he swept his hair back. “Come on, Liebling, or we’ll be late.”

“If you say so, darling,” Charles conceded with a reluctant sigh. He went to pick up his wallet and phone while Erik texted the driver, and they left the hotel suite arm in arm. The nervousness that had been plaguing Charles earlier had calmed a bit now that Erik was here, but Charles couldn’t help noticing that Erik himself seemed a little stiff and quiet now, flipping his phone in his free hand. It was a telltale habit that Erik couldn’t help succumbing to whenever he had a case of the nerves, and Charles supposed Erik was silently apprehensive about tonight’s dinner.

The limousine was already idling outside the Four Seasons’ lobby entrance, its black tinted windows gleaming and forbidding. Charles climbed into the car first as Erik held open the door for him, then joined him after. The driver’s partition was rolled up, and Charles felt a little off not being able to personally greet the driver as he did every time they hired a car. Erik did not say anything either, but the chauffeur must have been given prior instructions because the sedan was already pulling out of the driveway, past several other sleek cars, most of them bearing diplomat plates.

“This is a lovely limousine,” Charles said as he scooted closer to Erik, twining their fingers together. “Still, I feel rather embarrassed for being so ostentatious. The Hilton isn’t that far, you know.”

Erik’s eyebrows jumped up. “Surely you didn’t want us to walk to the Hilton, Liebling?”

“Not at all.” Laughing, Charles ramped up his most flirtatious tone of voice. “I was rather hoping that you could...take me all the way.”

They managed to maintain a deadpan expression for only a second before they both crumbled in laughter, Charles resting his head against Erik’s chest, which was shaking with mirth. “Seriously, Charles. Sometimes, everything you say sounds laden with innuendo,” Erik pretended to complain.

“Don’t lie, you love it when I do that,” Charles murmured, letting his eyes fall shut as he took in a deep breath of Erik’s scent. It was a mixture of cologne, soap and Erik’s own scent; he smelled wonderful.

He felt his hair ruffle, which meant Erik must have kissed the top of his head. “I really do,” Erik said quietly.

Charles smiled to himself, soaking in Erik’s presence before he opened his eyes again and was surprised to find they were nowhere near the Hilton. In fact, they were turning around the Foggy Bottom roundabout and he could see the Potomac River nearby, shimmering in the evening light. “Darling, I think the driver has taken a wrong turn,” he said, peering out of the window.

However, Erik didn’t seem particularly concerned as he hummed under his breath. “Well, then it appears our driver is useless.”

“Erik!” Charles arched a disapproving eyebrow at him, but Erik’s grin only widened in response as he squeezed Charles’ hand. All was forgiven as Erik pressed his lips against Charles’ left temple and let them remain there, his free hand cradling the back of Charles’ head lovingly. Charles allowed himself to melt in Erik’s arms, letting out a soft breath of contentment as Erik nuzzled his hair.

It was a short while later when the car came to a stop, and Charles blinked as he reluctantly extricated himself from Erik’s hold, peering out of the window. They were back at their closed set at the National Mall where they had been for the past week, shooting the scene in which Bruno watched Guy from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. The several familiar white aluminium trailers that housed Makeup and Wardrobe were still on the lot, and it was not much different from when he was last there this morning. “Why are we at the Lincoln Memorial? Did you forget something?” he asked curiously.

Erik only had a mysterious smile on his face, reaching into the window compartment and extracting a small felt bag. “I thought we could get in a quick chess game before the Dinner.”

Charles remembered their failed attempt at an outdoor game of chess a few weeks ago in Central Park and laughed, rubbing a hand up and down Erik’s arm. “Darling, did you honestly have them close the set longer just so we could play chess in the park?”

Erik palmed Charles’ right cheek with his free hand. “There are very few things I wouldn’t do for you, Charles.”

Charles couldn’t think of an adequate response to that, aside from closing the distance between them and pouring everything he felt for this perfect man into a loving, intimate kiss. When they finally got out of the car, Charles couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances at Erik, who just continued smiling as they walked hand in hand towards the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Right in the middle of the steps was a wooden chessboard laid out between two fluffy cushions, and beside each cushion was a long-stemmed white wine glass, along with a bottle of wine in a bucket of ice. Laughing in surprise, Charles bent down and glanced at the label; noting that it was one of the vintage Grand Crus they had procured during their anniversary trip. “Erik, what is all this?” he asked with a broad smile.

Erik jangled the felt bag he was holding, and Charles could hear the soft ‘clink’ of chess pieces. “Like I said, all I want is a quick game,” he replied, looking decidedly coy as he handed the bag to Charles before starting work on opening the bottle of wine.

Chuckling, Charles decided to just go along for the ride regarding whatever Erik had up his sleeve. Taking the bag from Erik, Charles made himself comfortable on the cushion, sitting so that he was facing the Washington Monument in the distance. It then occurred to him that this was probably the most phallic-looking structure on earth. “I have to say I’m enjoying the view,” he remarked with a teasing quirk of his eyebrows, then went about retrieving the chess pieces from the bag and laying them out on the board.

Erik didn’t even look away from Charles. “So am I,” he said softly, making Charles’ cheeks heat in a flush.

“If this is a move to get lucky tonight...it’s working,” Charles admitted with a chuckle, as Erik laughed and ducked his head. Once the chess pieces were properly arranged on the board – Charles taking white and Erik taking black, as usual – Erik gestured for him to make the first move.

Charles slid a central pawn forward before lifting his glass and sipping the wine that Erik had just poured. He made a pleased noise when he realised it was one of his favourite varieties from those that they had picked up in Alsace, and he wondered how Erik had slipped all this past him.

“I’m happy you like it,” Erik said, grinning as he moved a pawn forward as well. The next few moves they made were the same as the several hundred other games that had transpired between them up to that point, at least until he or Erik would switch things up. But Charles had become familiar with Erik’s usual strategy; he often disregarded his pawns and had only replied with an indulgent, “In chess, pawns go first, Charles,” when Charles had asked him once. Instead, Erik focused his attention on the key pieces. Erik used to hoard his knights, often willing to sacrifice his bishops to protect them, but his strategy seemed to be slowly changing lately, and Charles was beginning to notice that Erik’s bishops were now often the last remaining pieces on the board. Charles had once read that you could tell a lot about a person from the way they played chess, and he was starting to think there was some truth to it.

But this time, Erik seemed to be completely reckless. He sacrificed half his pawns, a rook and a knight within his first twenty moves, and Charles was beginning to wonder if Erik’s focus was even on the game. Despite that, Erik was staring intensely at the chessboard, particularly at his king. Charles’ gaze flickered over to Erik’s side; his king was safe, guarded by the queen and his bishops. Those were the only pieces that were still intact. The bishop represents a person’s heart, their closest friend, the book had said.

Charles wondered whether to warn Erik that, in a few moves, his black queen would be open and vulnerable. “Darling, are you sure?” Charles asked when Erik’s second knight joined the growing pile beside the chessboard. “You’re getting slaughtered.”

Erik only lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “Today must be an off day for me.”

“Be warned that I won’t show any mercy,” Charles joked, but he reached for Erik’s hand across the board and pressed a lingering kiss to his knuckles, taking the heat out of his words. Erik’s expression was so soft and fond that Charles almost forgot the game for a second, at least until Erik glanced down at the board again.

“Give me all you’ve got, Liebling,” Erik said, squeezing Charles’ hand before letting go.

The next few moves were not pretty, and Charles tried not to feel guilty as he took the second rook and a bishop. Erik’s queen was now open to attack. “Do you want to take back your last move? Because I’m about to kidnap your queen, darling,” Charles said teasingly as he leaned over and ran his fingers through Erik’s soft, fine hair.

Leaning into Charles’ touch, Erik arched an appraising eyebrow at the chessboard before shooting Charles a sly look. “Then my king would be useless without his queen, because he really loved her, you know.”

Charles burst into laughter when he realised that Erik had just quoted a line from his movie, ‘Becoming Penelope’. “Are you losing the game on purpose just so you can use that line with me, Erik?”

Erik’s smirk intensified. “Me? Never. Anyway, your move.”

Seeing that Erik seemed resigned to his fate, Charles moved his rook forward for the queen while his knight held the black king in check. “Hah! Checkmate, darling,” he declared with a broad smile after studying the board for a moment.

Holding his hands up in mock defeat, Erik reached over and toppled his king. Chuckling, Charles leaned in and gave Erik a sweet consolation kiss. “Well, that was an easy win. You weren’t even trying, were you?”

When Charles pulled back, he was surprised to find that Erik’s gaze was fixed on him, tender and full of affection. “Actually, I think I’m the one who won.”

Charles frowned at him, puzzled. “What do you mean, darling?”

The Adam’s apple in Erik’s neck bobbed as he cleared his throat – another sign of nervousness – and gestured at his fallen chess piece. “My king, open it.”

Even more confused, Charles picked up the chess piece, wondering what Erik was talking about. “Open it?” Charles asked in confusion, but upon closer inspection, Charles noticed that there was a small set of hinges above the base of the piece, and after fumbling with it for a moment, he finally managed to push it open.

A startled Charles felt his heart stop when he saw the engagement ring embedded in the base of the black king.

It took a good, long minute for him to let everything sink in, to think past the blood roaring in his ears and the brilliant joy seizing his chest. He was still gaping at the ring in his trembling hands, searching for any words that could describe his need to laugh and cry at the same time. Suddenly, everything made sense: Erik’s mysterious secrecy, their unexpected detour at the Lincoln Memorial, Erik lavishing far more terms of endearment on him than usual... Everything. Charles blinked and realised his cheeks were wet, and he was still speechless. The ring was beautiful, a slim platinum band with a groove running along its side, and right at the heart of it, there seemed to be a brilliant, impressively-sized sapphire.

When Charles looked up at Erik again, he stifled a half-sob, half-gasp when he saw that Erik was now down on one knee. Erik’s regard was steady but his eyes glistened, like the surface of the reflecting pool that stretched across the memorial ground, shimmering in the light of the setting sun.

“Charles, before you found me, I’d convinced myself that I could survive this life alone,” Erik began, his voice low and tremulous. “But all it took was a few brief moments with you for me to realise how wrong I’d been all this time.” Erik reached out, placing a warm palm on Charles’ lap and squeezing it gently. “I am happy, only when I’m with you.”

“Oh Erik, my love.” Charles had to momentarily clap a hand over his mouth to control his emotions. His other hand still held on tightly to the ring embedded in the chess piece, making sure he didn’t drop it in his state of joy and overwhelming excitement.

Erik’s gaze was intense and unwavering. “I can’t promise that our life together will always be as perfect as it is now, or anything like one of your movies. In fact, I promise that there will be difficult times, and there may even come a day when it’s all we can do not to renounce each other. But I also promise you that, even in our darkest hour, my heart is yours, I am yours, until the end of my days.”

Erik reached for the hand that was holding the ring, pressing a long kiss to the back of it before taking the ring out of the chess piece. He stared up at Charles hopefully, the ring poised just above his left ring finger as he carried on, “I cannot imagine a life without you. You’re who I want to wake up with, and fall into bed with, and raise a family with. I want to play chess with you until we’re old and grey, just so I can blame arthritic fingers for not toppling my king when you win the game.”

Here, a teary chuckle escaped Charles, and Erik took Charles’ right hand in his, pressing kisses all over it before looking up at him again, his eyes slightly reddened as he continued, “I know this sounds ridiculous, but I cannot stand it whenever we’re apart. I find myself missing you terribly, even if it’s just for a while.”

“I want you by my side,” Erik said, holding up the ring with a trembling hand. “Charles Francis Xavier, will you marry me?”

Even before Erik had finished his sentence, Charles had fallen to his knees and cradled Erik’s head in his hands, whispering, “Yes, darling, yes,” in between tearful kisses and gasps of disbelieving laughter. Erik’s wide grin was at odds with his tears, and he gently slid the ring onto Charles’ finger before hurriedly wiping his face.

“I’ve imagined this moment over and over,” Erik admitted, before pressing kisses repeatedly to his mouth. “I can’t believe it’s actually happening. You-you said yes.”

Charles chortled before hooking his arms around Erik’s neck, like a mooring to weather the changing tides. “I’m offended that you thought I would say anything else.” And I can’t wait for you to say yes, too, he thought, remembering the engagement ring stashed in the safety of Westchester.

Erik’s chuckle was low and contented, a deep rumble against his neck. “I didn’t want to assume, Liebling.”

“You are always more than welcome to assume that I’m yours,” Charles whispered against his ear, closing his eyes in gratitude. “Always.”

* * * * *

It was dusk by the time they were finished with the wine and, although both he and Erik could have easily downed it in one go, Charles had felt it a waste to polish off such an excellent vintage in that manner. Besides, he had Erik wrapped around him, the two of them trading kisses and whispering sweet nothings in the fading light. Charles never wanted to leave.

“Liebling, it wouldn’t do to keep the President of the United States waiting,” Erik said, chuckling when Charles made a noise of protest.

“For the record, I would much rather stay here with you,” Charles replied, earning himself a soft kiss on the cheek. It was with great reluctance that Charles extricated himself from the cocoon of Erik’s arms, gladly taking Erik’s hand and allowing himself to be helped onto his feet. They tipped the empty wine bottle and glasses into the bucket, Erik grabbing it in his right hand and tucking the chess set under the same arm while Charles collected the cushions. They made their way out of the National Mall, spare hands sliding together like second nature.

Perhaps it was some combination of the wine and the giddiness of being proposed to, but Charles felt rather lightheaded as they strolled back towards the limo. He couldn’t keep himself from running his thumb along the ring on his finger, which fit him perfectly, smiling as he shifted the cushions so he could admire the brilliant oval centrepiece in the glow of a nearby street lamp.

“I’ve always loved sapphires,” Charles mused aloud, stumbling a little when Erik stopped short. “Darling, is something the matter?”

“Charles, that’s not a sapphire,” Erik replied, sounding hesitant.

Charles gave Erik’s hand a firm squeeze, vehemently shaking his head. “Oh, that’s fine; it doesn’t matter to me at all,” he added immediately. He lifted his left hand closer, squinting. “I’ll have to blame the poor lighting, darling. Is it an aquamarine, then? I used to always love the one Mother—”

“It’s a blue diamond, Charles,” Erik cut in, looking increasingly horrified.

“A blue– what?” Charles gasped, sobering up instantly once he realised that the rock on his finger cost more than most houses. He stared at his ring in awe. “Oh, good God.”

Erik huffed incredulously. “I can’t believe you said yes thinking that I got you some cheap knock-off gemstone.”

“Oh, Erik... You know I would have agreed to marry you even if you had given me a ring from a Cracker Jack box,” Charles said softly, letting go of Erik’s hand so he could cup the back of Erik’s neck, sliding his fingers through his hair as he kissed him thoroughly.

“Do they still have prizes in Cracker Jack boxes?” Erik asked after they broke away, fingertips tracing patterns along the jut of Charles’ hipbone.

“Oh, yes,” Charles said, brushing their noses together.

Erik smirked, and subsequently placed a kiss to Charles’ temple. “That's nice to know. But a rare man deserves a rare diamond,” he said, before reaching up to brush back Charles’ hair. “It reminded me of your eyes.”

Charles could feel himself blushing. “Erik, if you carry on like this, I’ll have no choice but to beg you to take me in the middle of this memorial. And then we’ll all be sorry.”

“I certainly won’t be sorry,” Erik responded, laughing. “You’re speaking for Emma and Raven, but their approval on the matter means nothing at all to me.”

“Raven! I should call her,” Charles grinned, fishing his phone out of his pocket and hitting speed dial while Erik placed his hand to the curve of Charles’ spine, his warm palm gently rubbing circles that did complicated things to Charles’ heart. Erik tilted his head towards the limo before giving a soft push to Charles’ back, guiding them along as Charles waited for Raven to answer the phone.

She picked on the fifth ring. “Charles! I was just thinking of calling you but I thought it could wait until tomorrow, since you’re off drinking with the President and everything. But now that I’ve got you, I managed to get hold of Ellen and she gave me the number for the pilot that she and Portia use. He agreed to do the skywriting for you, just say when,” Raven’s familiar, well-loved voice rattled excitedly in his ear, and Charles felt overwhelmed by a sudden wave of memories. Raven was his oldest friend in this new life he’d carved out for himself, and having her on the line with him made everything finally seem real. If he could go back and tell his younger self – that silly chap holed up in his Bel Air home with a bored Raven draped lazily across him, watching ‘Cyborg Cop’ for the twelfth time – that one day he was going to marry that man on the screen, he would be asked to go take a leap.

To say he felt emotional would be an understatement, and his voice was shaking when he replied, “Please tell him that his services are no longer required.”

“Charles? Charles, what happened? Did Erik do something stupid? I swear I’ll—”

“No! Nothing at all like that,” Charles interjected, laughing somewhat hysterically at the gross misunderstanding. “Erik proposed! We’re getting married.”

He held the phone slightly away from his ear as, presumably somewhere in her suite in the Four Seasons, Raven started screaming. Charles leaned against Erik, the two of them laughing as Raven’s shrieks filled the air.

“Switch to FaceTime, I want to see the ring!” Raven yelled, trying to be heard over the ruckus.

“All right, my dear. Just give me a moment,” Charles said, holding his phone in front of him and toggling the video call function. Raven’s happily flushed face appeared after a few moments, and Charles could make out the edges of the hotel bathrobe that she was wearing. “Hello again, Raven.”

She waved in response before raising her eyebrows expectantly. “Well?”

“Darling, could you hold the cushions for me, please?” Charles asked as he handed them over to Erik, then held up the back of his left hand and wiggled his fingers. He chuckled when Raven’s eyes went wide, the video zooming in on her as she held the phone closer to her face.

Raven whistled and nodded her head in approval. “Well done, Erik.”

Charles couldn’t stop grinning, shifting the phone so Erik could get into the frame. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? It’s a blue diamond.”

“Duh, Charles. I’m not blind,” Raven said, rolling her eyes. “And as if Erik would have gotten you anything less.”

Erik chuckled beside him. “Precisely,” he deadpanned, and Charles watched the screen in embarrassment as Erik and Raven gave him simultaneous side-eyes. “I should be relieved that at least one of you won’t get swindled by a jeweller,” Erik added.

“Charles, you didn’t,” Raven giggled. “Anyway, Erik, it’s all your own fault if Charles never lifts a finger again, now that he’s wearing the Heart of the Ocean on his hand.”

Charles laughed, turning his palm so he could admire his enormous ring again. “Did you know that the blue diamond gets its colour from trace amounts of boron deposits? You could say it’s a mutant diamond.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Raven interrupted, making a talking mouth gesture with her hand. “I don’t know how you put up with him, Erik.”

“It’s also semi-conductive,” Erik joined in, and Charles grabbed his face and kissed him.

Raven snorted. “And this is why you’re the one marrying him. Fine, go have awesome sex. I’ll ask Marie to get the press release ready. Congrats, boys.”

“Thank you, Raven,” Charles said, beaming.

“Oh, no. Thank you. I bet Emma double or nothing that Erik would pop the question first, and now I get bragging rights,” Raven said, winking at them victoriously.

Erik poked his head in front of the camera. “Wait. Is this why Emma kept asking me to slow things down? I’m going to strangle her the next time I see her.”

“Just don’t tell her you heard it from me. Bye!” Raven finished, hurriedly cutting out the call. It took a second for Charles to burst into laughter, holding poor Erik close and kissing the look of thunder off his face, which didn’t take very long at all.

* * * * *

It still hadn’t sunk in for Erik yet that Charles had accepted his proposal so quickly, and that they were finally going to be married. After having dreamt of asking Charles to marry him for so long, it was surreal for him to realise that it was now reality, and it would only be a matter of time before they would get to walk down the aisle. A sideways glance at Charles was enough to make Erik realise that his biggest wish had indeed come true, and he was allowed to grin like an idiot.

He felt an arm sliding around his waist and instantly he turned to smother Charles with kisses. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” he said to a beaming Charles, who seemed just as drunk with joy. “Not even the time when Emma tossed her drink in Shaw’s face.”

Charles threw his head back with a laugh, shaking with mirth against Erik’s body. “Nice to know I rank above that, darling,” Charles said, his mouth pursed in amusement.

“You’ll always rank above everyone and everything else,” Erik said very seriously, and Charles visibly melted at that, yanking Erik down for a sweet, chaste kiss.

“You know I was just joking.” Charles patted Erik’s chest as they finally stumbled back to the waiting limo. Erik opened the door for Charles, sliding into the backseat after him. He barely had time to close the door before Charles threw himself at Erik, and Erik happily allowed himself to drown in the assault of kisses, groaning when he felt Charles’ arms circling around his neck. It had been worth the weeks and weeks of planning, of pained secrecy (because he could never stand to hide anything from Charles) and conspiring with Remy, Emma and his parents to keep everything a secret. Erik knew that he wouldn’t have been able to pull this off without all the help he had received, especially from the pretty-boy moron. Remy had even kindly insisted on going all the way to the mansion in Westchester on Erik’s behalf to collect their finest Alsatian wine from the cellar, saving him the guilt of lying to Charles. As for the proposal, it was Mama who had given him worthy advice on what to say (and what not to say). “Charles is a very special boy, and you must make him feel like he is the only person in the world who matters,” Mama had insisted over the phone. “Don’t you dare think that grunting ‘marry me’ at him is enough.”

“Mama, I wasn’t—”

“Don’t mind your mother, son,” his father’s voice had chimed in after he had rescued the phone from the overexcited Edie. “She’s already saved your Charles a place in the family tree.”

“Jakob!” Mama had interjected, and Erik had grinned as he listened to his parents squabbling fondly, hoping he and Charles were just as affectionate when they were much older.

Erik made a mental note to call his parents and tell them the good news later. He was sure Mama would be beside herself with joy, even though she had already predicted Charles would say yes before Erik had even thought of how to begin his proposal.

As the kiss grew heated, Erik was just about tempted to push Charles down onto the backseat when he registered the faint whirring of the driver’s partition sliding down, followed by a familiar low chuckle. “Mais non! Nobody wants to see that!”

Charles pulled his lips off Erik in surprise, beaming when he spotted a grinning Remy wiggling his eyebrows at them in the rearview mirror. “Remy! I had no idea you were our driver.”

“Ah, we did our best to keep all of this a secret from you, mon cher,” Remy explained with a little flourish. “So, judging from the way you just mauled Erik in the car, I’m guessing you said ‘oui’?”

Laughing, Charles flashed his left hand at Remy. “Not quite in French, but yes, of course I did.”

“I’m surprised Erik didn’t throw up, he was so nervous,” Remy commented, dropping Erik a wink in the rear-view mirror.

“Anyone would be nervous with a useless assistant,” was Erik’s wry reply, but he shot Charles a relieved smile and reached over, twining their fingers together. Charles beamed at him and plastered himself almost entirely against Erik, waiting as Erik lifted his left arm so Charles could tuck his head under it.

“Now Erik, be nice to Remy,” Charles said lazily as his left hand rubbed Erik’s stomach in circles. “I imagine he was a huge part of your plan.” As something occurred to him, Charles lifted his head and raised an eyebrow at Remy. “Is your mother’s birthday really coming up, my friend?”

Remy flashed him a rather guilty smile. “Actually, her birthday is in December.”

Chuckling, Charles wagged a finger at Remy before burrowing back into Erik’s arms again. “You sly fox! I was even about to offer to send both of you on a vacation.”

“The moral of the story is, don’t trust Remy,” Erik said with a smirk, before glancing at his watch. “Anyway, we should get going to the Hilton or we’ll be late.”

“Pardon, pardon, my fault,” Remy muttered apologetically before starting the engine and pulling away from the curb, heading back out to the main road. “Anyway, can I see the ring now?”

“Later,” Erik said lazily, stroking Charles’ hair. “Get us to the Hilton in one piece first.”

“Slavedriver,” Remy said with an exaggerated sigh. But even as his hands were on the wheel, he kept trying to turn and sneak a peek at Charles’ ring, his tongue sticking out comically as he fought to keep an eye on the road as well.

Erik picked up one of the nearby cushions and bonked Remy on the head with it in exasperation. “What did I say? Be careful or you’ll get all of us killed.”

Muttering under his breath, a pouting Remy dolefully rubbed the top of his head. “I just wanted to see the ring, you’ve been hoarding it like Gollum for so long,” he said dramatically.

Charles laughed and untangled his limbs from Erik’s, scooting to the front and draping his hand over the back of the driver’s seat so that Remy could get a better look. “Here you go, my dear chap. I don’t suppose Erik was drooling over the ring and calling it ‘my preciousss’?” he joked, tipping a wink at Erik.

A sly grin was growing on Remy’s face. “The ring? Non. You? Oui, definitely.”

“Just because I’m on top of the world right now, it doesn’t mean I won’t stuff you into the trunk and drive the car myself,” Erik warned him, as Remy meekly clamped his mouth shut. But Erik was far too happy to carry out his threat, his gaze resting on Charles’ left ring finger. Finally. At this point, he found himself with a lapful of Charles, and both of them traded long, sweet kisses until the car came to a gentle stop.

“We’re here!” Remy called out cheerfully. Twisting around so he could face them, he eyed their tuxedos. “Should I play the Wedding March as you walk down the red carpet?”

“If you end up attracting the paparazzi, I’ll be happy to play you the Funeral March,” Erik retorted grimly as Remy let out a snort and faced the front again. But at the thought of the paparazzi, Erik couldn’t help remembering the first time he and Charles had gone out to dinner at Bossa Nova, and how the paps had swarmed Charles before Erik had told them to get lost. Even back then, Erik had been so ridiculously obvious, so protective over someone that he wouldn’t admit he was falling for. Now, he wanted to shout it from the rooftops, to tell the whole world that they were getting married. But not tonight, though. The focus should be on the Correspondents’ Dinner, and Erik would have liked to keep from bursting their own private little bubble of happiness for just one more night.

But that turned out not to be the case, as they stepped out of the car and at once the sharp-eyed paps spotted the diamond on Charles’ left ring finger. The explosion of shouts and camera flashes were absolutely stunning, even to both Erik and Charles who had spent most of their adult lives surrounded by the media. Erik tried to shield Charles with his body so they could walk into the hotel unmolested, but it was difficult to see where they were headed when they were blinded by the litany of flashes everywhere, like lightning.

“Liebling, are you all right?” Erik said loudly over the din, quelling his instincts to smash the camera of any paparazzo who got too close to Charles. But Charles seemed more than fine, laughing as he pulled Erik close to him, locking his arms around Erik’s waist.

“Darling, we’re getting married,” he said softly in Erik’s ear. “I’m quite certain I’m the happiest man alive now.”

“I may have to challenge you for that title,” Erik said, breaking out into a grin as he relaxed. Charles was right, it was a happy occasion and Erik could certainly afford to let his guard down. Facing the persistent cameras, Erik took Charles’ left hand and kissed his ring finger, causing a massive uproar amidst the gleeful paparazzi surrounding them. It reminded him of the first time they had come out to the media, when he had told Charles, “No more hiding,” before they had stepped out and announced their relationship to the world, sealing it with a public kiss. Maybe it was fitting then, Erik thought, for them to wrap up this cycle with a celebratory engagement kiss, honest and open about the love they felt for each other. He turned to Charles, who was already making his way to Erik’s mouth, and their display of affection caused a ripple of cheers and applause, interjected only by the constant click-click-click of the cameras.

* * * * *

* * * * *

Being engaged was fantastic.

Erik never could have imagined what a difference it made going from hoping to spend the rest of his life with Charles to knowing he now had the privilege to do exactly that. For years, Erik had stood by and watched as his work slowly destroyed him. Getting into character meant adopting a different alias, letting the role consume him for the weeks or months it took to get the job done. He had lived dozens of lives throughout his career, whatever emotional attachment he forged with the other characters in that fantasy world lasting only as long as the cameras kept rolling. Affection was make-believe, relationships only temporary.

And then there was Charles. Charles, who was real and permanent, and loved Erik’s miserable heart in all its imperfection. And Erik loved him back, with every atom of his being.

The first time someone from the crew had asked Erik where his “fiancé” was during a break, Erik had found himself grinning so widely that he was sure Raven would have accused him of looking like a deranged maniac, if the flicker of terror across that poor man’s face was anything to go by. Erik would be the first to admit that he was a possessive man, and being able to refer to Charles as his from now on was enough to make him feel like he could raise a vessel from the bottom of the ocean.

It was unfortunate that Charles couldn’t keep his ring on while they were filming. “I really don’t like the idea of taking your ring off myself, darling,” Charles had said in their trailer the first day they had gotten back on set, before happily suggesting that Erik did it for him instead. Thus began their daily ritual of Erik slipping the ring on and off Charles’ fourth finger. In Erik’s mind, it felt like he got to renew his vows each and every day, with one or both of them always whispering a confession of love followed by an exchange of kisses as the ring returned to where it belonged, safe on the finger of the man he loved.

Erik always looked forward to that part of the day, especially following a difficult time on the set, like when he had to spend hours shooting that argument with Charles outside Guy’s home after telling him that he’d killed Miriam. Erik often felt the inexplicable need to apologise after, and found he sorely missed the days of ‘First Class’, when they could be freely affectionate, instead of this rotten hell of having to convincingly look like they wanted nothing more than to wipe each other off the face of the Earth. Erik couldn’t fathom how Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio made it through filming ‘Revolutionary Road’, adding a mental note to toss any script that even remotely resembled that into the bin.

Thankfully, he never had to angst over bad days very long. No matter how drained Charles looked, he would always relax the moment the metal band wrapped around his finger, smiling contentedly within seconds. Erik had asked him once how his mood could switch so immediately, and Charles had kissed him and murmured a dreamy, “It feels different, you’ll see.”

Well, Erik definitely noticed that sex felt different. To be more specific: the sex was scramble-his-fucking-brains-out terrific. (Not that sex with Charles wasn’t the best he’d ever had, mind you.) The connection they shared was stronger than ever before, and sensations that used to register as just a flutter on the edges of his awareness now felt like a pulse that thrummed through his entire body, consuming and devastating everything in its wake. Charles, too, readily trembled at the slightest of touches, back bowed and mouth slack with pleasure at the drag of teeth against flesh, abandoned moans that echoed in Erik’s dreams at the rush of hot breath over damp skin. Erik was always nothing more than a shuddering mess after, his wrecked body begging to sleep for a week just to recover. He might have obliged, but his cock always seemed to have other, much more fun ideas whenever Charles was around. Erik still caught himself smirking whenever he recalled the first time Charles’ ring refused to come off because the weather had been frigid that day, and Erik had used that as an excuse to suck Charles’ fourth finger into his mouth and do obscene things to it with his tongue. Charles’ eyes had gone dark instantly, and Erik had made good on his tease once he’d pulled the ring off using his teeth with a very thorough blowjob, which Charles subsequently reciprocated with enthusiasm. Needless to say, they had been extremely tardy in their arrival onto the set, and Erik had since developed an arguably unhealthy obsession with sudden cold fronts.

Their finally had a break in their filming schedule three weeks after the Correspondents’ Dinner, and this was their first weekend off in ages. Charles had said he needed to head back to their place, professing he had something incredibly important to do, and so here they were, coming off the flight out to Westchester County Airport. It was liberating not needing to fuss over any luggage, and there was the added bonus of having his hands free to hold Charles as he pleased.

Erik was looking forward to spending the weekend in the peace and quiet of the mansion, planning on using the time to start preparing the speech they were to give during San Francisco Pride. He had been visibly upset when the latest version of the immigration reform bill failed to include any mention of same-sex couples, even though the plans that had been laid out by President Obama in January had made provisions for recognising same-sex couples from different countries. Erik had kicked up quite a fuss over the desperate backpedalling, going so far as to consider conspiracy theories before an exasperated Charles had seated him down with a cup of tea. “Erik, darling, must you turn everything into Watergate?” Charles had said. He had then talked at length about how they couldn’t fault the senators for not wanting to let this opportunity to reform their nation’s immigration system go to waste, and further added that this wouldn’t matter much if the Supreme Court were to rule DOMA as unconstitutional. Erik could see where Charles was coming from, but he still couldn’t understand why allowing a few thousand gay American citizens to sponsor their partners for legal immigration was more objectionable than granting amnesty to millions of illegal immigrants. And the thought that, if it weren't for his job, these men had the power to take him away from Charles filled Erik with a maddening desire to rip open the gates of Congress and storm right in. Needless to say, Erik honestly wasn’t feeling exactly optimistic about the verdicts for DOMA and Prop 8 at the moment. It angered him that the fate of same-sex couples in this country lay in the hands of a bunch of bigoted old men on Capitol Hill, which was why he was counting down the days to Pride. There, they could make a stand, put their visibility to good use. March.

“Fellas, over here,” came Darwin’s ever composed voice. Charles tugged at Erik’s hand, quickening his steps as they made their way around the barricades and towards Charles’ waiting assistant.

“Darwin! Thank you very much for coming all the way out here with our car. I don’t know what I’d ever do without you,” Charles said, giving Darwin a few friendly pats on the back before Darwin handed him the key. They could have booked a town car, of course, but the mansion in Westchester was the only place where the media hadn't tracked them down, and neither Charles nor himself wanted to risk it by hiring a driver who might blab their location for a quick buck.

Darwin chuckled. “Not a problem, it’s nice to finally be useful. And congratulations, man,” he said, squeezing Charles’ shoulder. Erik smiled dotingly on when Charles began grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

“Thank you, my kind chap.”

“And I finally get to see the real thing. Raven wasn’t exaggerating, for once,” Darwin said as he took Charles’ hand to examine the engagement ring. He let go of Charles’ fingers when he was done, turning to shake Erik’s hand with a firm grip. “It’s about damn time!”

“I’m starting to think the only person who wasn’t waiting for me to propose was Charles,” Erik quipped, draping an arm over Charles’ shoulders and squeezing him in a sideways hug while Charles cuddled affectionately. The three of them had a good laugh, then Darwin walked them briskly out the arrival hall and to their Mercedes-Benz. They hadn't attracted too many gawkers, given that it wasn't a high traffic airport like the dreaded LAX. Erik considered it a small victory.

“Are you certain you don't need me to arrange a car for you?” Charles asked, ever concerned about everyone’s welfare. Sometimes, Erik wondered if Charles even knew what a personal assistant was for. He felt a tiny smidge guilty then for always entrusting Remy with so much to do, although the moron still hadn't run for the hills yet, so he couldn't be finding it all that terrible.

“Nah, I'm good. Alex is coming to get me,” Darwin said, clapping Charles on the shoulder before waving goodbye to the both of them.

Charles was still grinning when he opened the car door on the driver's side and presented Erik with the key. “In you go, darling.”

Erik shook his head, bending down to place a kiss on Charles' cheek before guiding him towards the car with a hand on the small of his back. “No, you drive,” Erik insisted. As much as he’d like to, Erik knew he couldn’t possibly chauffeur Charles everywhere forever. Nor would it be very practical to do so, now that Charles had his license back. Besides, there would eventually be roles where Charles would have to film scenes behind the wheel, and Erik would feel more reassured knowing that Charles could at least keep to the correct side of the road.

“Are you sure, love?” Charles asked, dangling the key in front of Erik as he waggled his eyebrows comically.

Erik laughed. “Yes, Liebling. I promise to try my best to remain calm,” he said, ignoring the spike of trepidation and praying that Charles wouldn't go all ‘Fast and Furious’ on him. “She’s your car as well, and I need to make sure you can drive in non-Commonwealth countries without causing a pile-up on the freeway. For my own sanity, at the very least.”

“You always worry too much, darling,” Charles murmured, pulling Erik down for a quick kiss before climbing into the car.

Erik closed the door and circled to the passenger’s side, and found Charles still busy adjusting the position of his seat when he got in. “Have I ever told you that you have extremely long legs?” Charles remarked absently while buckling himself in.

“You have, many times. Especially when I'm in jeans,” Erik replied, not bothering to hide his smirk.

Charles chuckled loudly, and Erik enjoyed watching as a blush spread across his pale cheeks. “Well, I can’t possibly be held responsible for anything I say while you’re a walking billboard for every physical temptation known to Man – although let me reiterate that I am always up for demonstrating my complete lack of self-restraint.” Charles paused, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and pursing his lips. “Last chance, darling. It’s not too late to change your mind. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Erik squeezed Charles’ knee in reassurance. “My mind has been made, Charles. And I’ve long figured that it’s better to die in the wreck with you than spend the rest of my life alone.”

Charles intertwined his fingers with Erik's on his knee and sighed. “Sometimes I think I must have been a martyr in my past life to deserve you.”

He would have argued that Charles must be mad, that Erik knew himself to be a sorry excuse for a decent human being, but Charles leaned over and pulled him in to press their lips together. And then Erik decided that there was no point singling out the flaws in Charles’ statement, not when he had zero intention of giving Charles valid reasons to ever leave him.

The drive to the estate was surprisingly uneventful, and Erik only had to lift his hand from Charles' lap on a couple of instances to surreptitiously steer the car back on course. Charles was even keeping well within the speed limits, so much so that Erik felt inclined to point it out, amusement evident in his voice as he said, “Liebling, I've seen grandfathers drive faster than you.”

Charles laughed, taking his eyes off the country road for a moment to gaze into Erik’s. “Just rehearsing being one half of an old married couple, darling. You had best get used to it.”

“I should think our lives would still be more exciting than most, even when we're old and bald,” Erik replied, playfully ruffling Charles’ hair.

Charles visibly shuddered, batting Erik away. “Speak for yourself. I fully intend on keeping my hair, thank you very much,” he said, chuckling as Erik slung an arm around his neck and kissed the shell of his ear. “And I’m absolutely looking forward to bickering like Freddie and Stuart over tea.”

Erik chuckled, leaving his arm draped over Charles’ shoulders. They’d been following ‘Vicious’ recently, thanks to their mutual fondness for Sir Ian McKellen after meeting him at the Oscars, and it was refreshing being able to watch an old gay couple on TV. “I still don’t understand why you think I’m Freddie. I find nothing in common with him, other than the fact that we’re both actors.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” Charles sing-songed, patting Erik’s hand absently.

They arrived at the mansion shortly after, heading up the long driveway once they'd parked the car in the garage. Although they didn't spend as much time in Westchester as they did at their place in Los Angeles, Erik always looked forward to returning to this estate the most. They only had wonderful memories here, treasured pockets of time when they belonged to no one but each other, every second precious and hoarded safely away in his heart.

Charles bounded up the front steps, unlocking the large wooden door and swinging it open. He spun around grinning as they entered, wrapping his arms around Erik's waist and pulling him close. “Welcome home, Erik,” he whispered, nudging the tips of their noses against each other before Erik cupped his face and tilted it back to seal their lips in a long, passionate kiss. Kissing Charles always felt like that first heady rush of falling in love, when two years ago, Erik had blinked and realised for the first time he was looking at Charles with new eyes, that he had been staring at the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Filled with gratitude at having found Charles, Erik tried to put this into the kiss, capturing Charles’ mouth again and again and licking into it, desperate for his taste. And when Charles moaned into Erik’s mouth, Erik could hardly be blamed for going a little crazy with desire for him, nipping at those red lips.

It seemed like Erik wasn’t the only one losing control. He could feel Charles’ grip tightening in his hair, so that Charles could manoeuvre Erik’s head as he pleased. Erik submitted willingly when Charles, sounding desperate and sighing with desire, shoved him backwards so that the door slammed shut behind them, Erik’s body happily trapped between Charles and its carved wooden surface.

When they broke apart, gasping for air, Erik greedily took in the sight of Charles’ cheeks flushed red, his eyes a fiery blazing blue as they raked over Erik. Erik licked his lips. “Looks like you’ve got me where you want me,” he murmured, writhing a little under Charles’ hold as if to pretend that he wanted to wriggle away.

Charles pressed his entire body weight against Erik even more, so that he was effectively pinning Erik to the door, and the speed at which Erik's blood rushed south left him incredibly lightheaded. “What am I going to do with my prize?” Charles pretended to muse, his eyes so dark and intent with lust that Erik was mesmerized.

Deliberately, Erik let his mouth widen in a slow, evil smirk, the one he employed whenever he was mentally undressing Charles in public. He leaned in a little, inches away from Charles. “Depraved, profane things, all weekend long,” Erik whispered, so that his lips barely brushed Charles’ moist ones, making his breath stutter.

Erik practically mauled him, desperation and intense need tingeing the kiss. He was so distracted by Charles’ firm, insanely gorgeous body that he almost didn’t notice Charles untucking his shirt, then unbuckling Erik’s belt with trembling hands. Part of Erik wanted to cry with relief; he was so achingly hard that he felt like he was about to go insane.

When Charles’ warm, familiar hand wrapped around his shaft, Erik keened and rested his forehead against him, his hips jerking up in broken thrusts just from Charles touching him. No one had ever, ever had this effect on him before, and Erik knew that he could come just from kissing and touching Charles alone, if he so wanted it. But of course, he wanted more. He whined when Charles released his cock, which bobbed in the air, straining towards him.

“I’ve missed our bed a lot, why don’t we take this upstairs?” Charles said wistfully, turning the full power of those pleading blue eyes on a helpless Erik.

Except, Erik didn’t think he could make it to their room in his current state. The house was just too goddamn big. He started unbuttoning Charles’ light blue Oxford, sliding it off his shoulders and tossing the shirt somewhere in the direction of the staircase. “We could have a go here first, the bedroom will still be there later,” Erik answered, his cock twitching at the idea of taking Charles up against that massive headboard.

Charles raised an eyebrow in challenge. He grabbed the waistband of Erik's trousers in his hands and dropped to his knees in an instant, pulling Erik's pants and briefs down with him. Charles stared up at him from the ground devilishly, darting his tongue out to wet his lips before wrapping them around the head of Erik's cock. He slid partway down, eyes never leaving Erik's face. Erik felt him exhale, breath hot against his sensitive skin, right before Charles swallowed him whole, impossibly red lips stretched wide around his sizable girth. Erik let out a strangled cry, slamming his head back against the door, the sharp thump insignificant compared to the slick heat that gripped the entire length of his cock.

Charles pulled his mouth off him and got back up on his feet. "Upstairs," Charles said again, more forcefully this time, his voice rough.

Fuck. "Yes, now. Mein Gott, Charles," Erik bit out, toeing off his shoes and stepping out of the crumpled mess of his trousers.

Charles’ laughter filled the empty spaces of the mansion as he took hold of Erik's hand, leading him across the foyer and to the staircase. Erik couldn't take his eyes off the lean curves of muscle on Charles’ back, his pale skin adorned by constellations of freckles, Erik’s lips having long since worshipped every last one of them. Charles turned at the bottom of the stairs, wrapping an arm around Erik’s neck to crush their mouths together and pulling him along as he ascended backwards up the steps. Erik roughly tugged Charles’ belt off at one point, slinging it over the banister and not caring when he heard it crashing loudly to the floor below.

“That was Gucci,” Charles said, panting against his cheek.

Erik grinned unrepentantly. “I know,” he quipped, a thrill of pleasure shooting through him when that earned him a playful bite on the lip.

He undid Charles’ fly, holding onto the fabric to steady Charles while he kicked off his shoes and sent them tumbling down the stairs. Erik helped Charles out of his trousers when they reached the landing, coaxing a guttural moan from Charles when he curled his fingers around Charles’ cock and pumped, slowly but firmly, as he backed Charles towards their bedroom. Charles all but ripped off Erik’s white polo shirt at the doorway.

It was good to be back in their bedroom, to see one of Charles’ beloved cardigans draped over the back of a chair while Erik’s black scarf lay coiled nearby. The housekeeper must have left them there untouched to lend a sense of home, but her presence was noticeable in the rest of the room, particularly the lavender-scented sheets. Erik turned to Charles and picked him up, depositing him onto the bed. Charles smiled up at him, his dark hair a startling contrast against the sheets and the rest of his pale body, and Erik swore that he never knew he could fall deeper and deeper in love with this man. He crawled on top of Charles, who tugged him down and kissed him so sweetly that Erik felt his eyes sting.

After they broke apart, Erik closed his eyes while Charles palmed the right side of his face, hyper-aware of the cool metal band pressed against his cheek. It was still a new and very welcome sensation that he was happily getting used to, and he could not possibly describe what it had felt like when Charles agreed to become his husband. Husband. The word made something deep in Erik's chest clench, because he had never expected to fall in love like this, to love someone far, far more than anything else. He opened his eyes, and Charles’ irises were startlingly blue and clear as they searched his face. “I love you,” Charles whispered, as Erik turned his head to kiss his palm.

“And I love you,” Erik murmured, leaning down to capture those moist red lips that had been tempting him all day. Charles then gave a little muffled groan that made Erik’s simmering desire roar to life again, and the kiss turned rough, Erik tasting every inch of Charles’ mouth as he felt Charles’ legs wrap around his hips. Charles’ erection was pressing against his belly, hot and hard and pulsing, and Erik groped for it, grinning into the kiss as he started stroking Charles’ cock, relishing his cries of pleasure.

“You’re sinfully gorgeous,” Erik growled as he watched Charles’ expression of rapture, those unreal eyes a shocked, vivid blue. Erik rubbed his thumb over the swollen head of Charles’ cock just the way Charles liked it, the entire shaft now dripping with pre-come. He bit down harshly on his own lower lip when Charles arched his back off the bed, abdominal muscles pulled taut and beautiful as his hands gripped the sheets violently, the moan ripping from his throat loud enough to make Erik’s toes curl.

Erik shushed soothingly in his ear, knowing that Charles wouldn’t last much longer if he kept this up. He slowed the pace of his hand on Charles’ cock, loosening his grip as he eased Charles back down onto the sheets. Erik mouthed along Charles’ jaw, his other hand spreading across the centre of Charles’ chest before sliding gradually over flushed skin towards the base of Charles’ throat. Erik could feel the rapid drumming of Charles’ heartbeat under his palm, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could almost sense the iron coursing through his veins, the lifeblood singing to him as it thrummed beneath his fingers.

He kissed a path down Charles’ chest, sucking on a nipple and teasing the other with his fingers as his mouth found its way towards Charles’ erection. Erik released Charles’ cock from his hand, inhaling the intoxicating scent between Charles’ legs before licking slowly from base to tip, holding Charles down when he writhed beneath him. Erik fucked his mouth on Charles’ cock, Charles’ taste heavy on his tongue.

“Oh, God. Erik,” Charles gasped from above, moaning wantonly when Erik pressed two fingers against his perineum, tapping out a rhythm on the thin flesh over his prostate as he slipped a wet finger inside him. Charles’ cries made Erik heady with lust, and he couldn’t help rutting into the sheets. Erik pulled his mouth off Charles’ erection, taking in deep breaths as he shakily reached for the bedside table, fumbling around for one of the tubes of lubricant that they had stashed there. He had just uncapped it when Charles suddenly grabbed it from him, scooting out from under him with a breathless laugh.

“Charles, what are you up to?” Erik asked, perplexed and a little petulant at having his living wet dream get away from him like that.

“Since you let me drive earlier, I’ve gotten quite a taste for it,” Charles said with a grin, wild-eyed and utterly gorgeous. “Why don’t you sit back and enjoy the ride?”

Charles gave him a slight shove so that he was sprawled on the bed, facing the headboard. Satisfied, Charles got on his knees and made his way to Erik, straddling his lap and rendering Erik speechless.

Pushing the cap open, Charles squeezed some lube onto the fingers of his right hand, then reached between his own legs as he kept his gaze fixed on Erik. Biting his lip in pleasure, Charles began slicking his own entrance with the lube, voice hitching as his fingers slid in further and further, a breathless, “Mmm Erik,” slipping out occasionally. Erik was so completely transfixed, watching Charles get himself ready to be fucked hard, that he was barely aware that he was taking himself in hand, leisurely stroking his leaking cock.

“God, Erik, keep doing that,” Charles whispered, his eyes half-lidded as he watched Erik touch himself.

Erik deliberately brought his hand to his mouth, staring at Charles as he licked his palm. A sharp whine ripped from Charles’ throat, and he knocked Erik’s hand away, lifting his hips to guide Erik’s cock inside himself. Charles sank down slowly, their hands searching for each other’s as they twined their fingers together. Erik was shaking at the effort to not thrust up immediately, so that he wouldn’t hurt Charles, carefully watching Charles’ face for any signs of discomfort or pain.

On the contrary, Charles’ intensely blue eyes rolled back in pleasure as he bared his throat, moaning, “Erik, so bloody good...” and Erik couldn’t resist kissing that pale, flushed neck, lavishing special attention on the scattering of freckles he loved so much.

“I could watch you come, over and over again,” Erik whispered, his hips giving an experimental little thrust upwards and, judging from Charles’ shattered moans, he was free to move. Releasing Erik’s hands, Charles squeezed Erik’s shoulders as he rode Erik’s cock expertly, face contorted in sublime ecstasy as he rolled his hips up and down, the exquisite drag on Erik’s cock making pleasure build at the base of his spine.

Erik lost himself as he thrust into the tight heat, occasionally bending down to lick those sweet pert nipples, or arching up to kiss Charles. He heard himself moan, voice low and hoarse beyond recognition. In return, Charles grasped Erik’s jaw and stole several wet, indecent kisses, smiling like the little minx he was. Growling, Erik captured and sucked on that luscious bottom lip, combining it with a series of hard thrusts that had Charles going crazy.

Erik’s hands ran down Charles’ sweat-riddled back, landing on those firm, muscular thighs. Before Erik knew what he was doing, he grabbed Charles and, in a powerful, swift move, lifted him and slammed him up against the headboard, surprising a half-laugh, half-gasp out of Charles. “Erik! Oh, my word, I didn’t-ahhh...” It seemed Charles forgot to finish his sentence as Erik repeatedly drove his cock into him, causing Charles’ eyes to glaze over with pleasure. His fingers dug into Erik’s shoulders for support as his legs wrapped around Erik’s waist, ankles locking at his hips and keeping Erik where he belonged. “Erik...”

“Mine,” Erik grunted out against Charles’ jaw, soothing him with kisses and gentle nips while his hips did the opposite, which was to slam into Charles repeatedly, grinding against his prostate again and again, making him cry out and moan louder than he ever did before. When their eyes locked, Erik wanted to sob at how much love and emotion he saw in Charles’ tender gaze, in the way he was looking at Erik like he was the only person in the world who mattered. Taking in a shuddery breath, Erik turned his head just a little so that their mouths met, and Charles kissed him with an intensity that made Erik’s head spin.

I love you more than life itself, Erik thought, speeding up his thrusts and watching as Charles completely unravelled before his eyes, that red mouth going slack as he took in quick, shallow gasps. Charles wrapped his arms around Erik’s neck, resting the side of his head against Erik’s. Erik moaned when Charles nipped at his earlobe, the sound of his warm breaths echoing in Erik’s ear. Charles licked a hot stripe along the sensitive shell of his ear, and the wave of pleasure that slammed through him was enough to send Erik over the edge, the shout that tore from him raw and primal. Erik heaved Charles even higher and spilled inside him, the orgasm so intense that he whited out for a long moment, clinging to Charles as he came also, his voice completely wrecked as he moaned Erik’s name like it was the only word left in his vocabulary. Erik held on tightly to Charles for what felt like ages, needing him as an anchor while the tremors shot relentlessly down the insides of his thighs.

“Erik?” He heard Charles’ concerned voice first, before a laugh as he patted Erik’s cheek. “Darling, are you all right?”

“Fuck, Charles,” was all Erik managed as he slumped back down onto the bed, carefully slipping out and balancing Charles on top of him so that he didn’t fall. Now that he had his senses back, Erik finally noticed the white streaks all over his belly, and he let out a short laugh of exhaustion before collapsing back in bed, Charles a comforting weight sprawled along his side, the both of them still panting.

“I think you’re trying to kill me,” Erik told Charles once he had regained his breath.

Charles let out a deep, rich chuckle, planting kisses along Erik’s collarbone. “I beg your pardon, but I wasn’t the one who slammed me up against the headboard and fucked me until I almost passed out.”

Erik’s gaze darted down to the streaks on his stomach. “Didn’t seem like you had any complaints,” he said with a smirk, letting his fingers rake through the dark silk of Charles’ hair.

“Indeed, I didn’t,” Charles murmured, letting his kisses trail down to Erik’s nipples, which were always a little sensitive after an orgasm so Erik duly appreciated the extra care Charles took with them, blowing on them gently before moving on down to Erik’s stomach. When he started licking the smeared white trails and lapping everything up, Erik had to groan because his cock was valiantly wanting to rise to the occasion again, but the sex had really worn him out so he just watched, caressing Charles’ shoulders in encouragement.

After Charles was done cleaning him, Erik dragged him up to kiss, greedily licking into his mouth to chase after Charles' taste. Inspiration bloomed in his sex-addled brain. “Let me return the favour,” Erik said with a grin, as Charles arched an eyebrow at him. But he obediently let Erik manoeuvre him onto his stomach, tossing Erik a curious look over his shoulder. Charles’ ass still had Erik’s handprints on them from when he had grabbed Charles earlier and held him up against the headboard, and Erik ran his palms reverently over the pinkish skin, bestowing a kiss to one of his favourite parts of Charles’ body.

He raised Charles' hips in the air, then began kissing his way to his hole, where he could still see a little of his own come dribbling out. I did that, he thought proudly, as he licked off whatever he could see near the entrance. Charles’ broken, bitten-off moan of anticipation was incredibly sexy, and Erik shuddered at the sound. As he started licking into Charles and squeezing his thighs, he could hear Charles begging for him to continue. “God, darling, yes.”

Erik just chuckled deeply, lightly slapping that beautiful pale ass which was starting to turn even redder from his manhandling. Charles was panting, his moans soft and muffled now that he had buried his face in the pillow. Erik ran a reassuring hand up the length of his spine, letting it wander up and down soothingly before resuming his licking, holding Charles’ cheeks apart and tonguing him deeper. He grinned when he hit the spot which made Charles gasp sharply, tending to it specially until Charles was shaking and incoherent. He carried on licking into Charles, enjoying the taste of himself inside him until every last bit of Charles was clean. He lapped at Charles’ hole when he was done, and Charles sighed softly in contentment. As Erik scooted backwards a little to give Charles room to turn over, he could feel his eyelids drooping, a post-orgasmic lassitude settling in his limbs. Erik climbed up the bed, grinning when he saw that Charles also looked wrecked. Charles smiled as he blinked up at Erik, stealing a kiss.

Erik gazed down lovingly at him, his thumb caressing the lock of dark hair at Charles’ right temple. “Is it a bad thing that you’re so incredible in bed that I’m completely spent?”

Charles’ lips quirked up in amusement. “Glad to see that you appreciate my talents.” He brushed back Erik’s fringe, before tugging him down so that Erik was lying completely on top of him. He could feel Charles smoothing a hand up and down the planes of his back. Erik’s eyes fluttered at half-mast, taking in a deep breath and instantly assured by the warm, clean smell of Charles’ skin and the calming scent of lavender that lingered on the sheets. His right hand snaked out, searching for Charles’ left one until he found it, smiling with his eyes closed as he felt the ring around Charles’ finger. They were getting married.

“What do you want our wedding to be like?” Erik asked sleepily, willing himself to stay awake because he wanted to hear some of Charles’ ideas. He tried his best to stifle a yawn, but it broke out anyway as Erik nuzzled even more against Charles, who was chuckling.

“Maybe we should discuss this another time, you look like you’re nodding off,” Charles whispered, low and amused.

Erik made a noise of protest, even as his eyelids grew heavy. “No...I’m not. Tell me.” Determined to stay awake and listen to Charles, Erik readjusted his head on Charles’ shoulder, lulled by the hypnotic stroking of his hair that Charles was ridiculously good at.

“I did think that we could have a summer wedding,” Charles mused, and Erik drowsily listened to the rising and falling inflection of that familiar, beloved voice, the one that spoke directly to his heart. The last thing he remembered was Charles joking about something to do with swans - swans? - before sleep quickly overtook Erik, his hand still curled around Charles’.

* * * * *

Erik drifted awake to the faint sounds of Etta James pleasantly crooning ‘At Last’. He’d come to know it as Charles’ favourite record, and Charles often put it on the antique player Erik had given him before settling down to read. He smiled when he pictured Charles humming along to the tune as he thumbed through scripts or a hard copy of Nature Genetics (his fiancé was probably one of the few people in the world who read scientific journals for leisure, in print), content to have a book in his hands – at least until Erik took it upon himself to join him on the sofa. Erik hugged the pillow in his arms, wishing it were Charles instead. The sheets around him had grown cool and the sun had already set, the heady scent of sex now faded to a muted trace that clung sweetly to his skin. He sat up, wondering why Charles had gotten out of bed without him, and felt a bit guilty about passing out on him so quickly earlier. The bedroom was illuminated by the light from the landing, and only after his eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting did Erik notice the turtleneck of his that Charles had taken with him to Japan, folded neatly at the foot of the bed and placed atop a pair of pants. How curious.

He slipped into the clothes quickly and hurried his way down the stairs. Charles must have heard him because the record stopped playing abruptly, only to be replaced moments later by beautiful string music that Erik soon recognised as being an instrumental version of Elvis Presley’s ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’, the soft violins spiriting him away like a lover into the night.

“Charles?” Erik called, scanning the foyer and noting that the music was coming from the back of the house, the gentle crests and troughs in the melody luring him, hypnotic as a siren’s song.

“I’m in the gardens, darling,” came Charles’ answer, his voice tinged with mirth.

Erik walked briskly through the dining area and found the record player sitting just inside the back entrance, the exquisite harmony of the string quartet enveloping him as he stepped across the threshold and out into the surprisingly warm night air.

His breath caught at the sight that met his eyes. Charles was standing beneath the gazebo, a myriad fairy lights dancing around the spiralling frame of the open steel dome and down the sandstone pillars. Charles’ smile was tender when their eyes met, the lights that hung from the gazebo dome casting a warm glow across his face. Hundreds of white calla lilies in full bloom lined the path leading from where Erik stood to Charles, who was wrapped in the blue cardigan that had accompanied Erik all those long nights overseas. Erik stared openly as the music continued to play, the scene before him purely magical.

Erik eventually began to walk slowly down the flower-lined aisle, emotions threatening to consume him. He certainly knew what the calla lilies meant, but he could hardly believe that Charles remembered. Then again, this was Charles. Of course he remembered. The smile on Charles’ face never wavered, and in fact grew more radiant with each step Erik took. He held out his palm invitingly as Erik neared, and Erik reached out and took his hand, Charles’ gentle fingers yielding willingly to the hard lines of his own.

“Erik…” Charles whispered when they embraced, bodies flush from the chest down. “For a moment there I was worried you wouldn’t find your way.” Charles tiptoed up to seal their lips together, and Erik exhaled a quiet sigh. There was nothing quite like being kissed by the person he loved completely and the realisation, in that kiss, that he was loved in return.

They stayed entwined together even after they'd broken the kiss. Erik interlaced their fingers and brought Charles’ hand to his chest, leaning his cheek against the crown of Charles’ head as he asked, “What’s all this, Charles? I was going to apologise for falling asleep on you like a Neanderthal, but I’m starting to think that that was your plan all along.”

“You know me too well, darling,” Charles said, chuckling fondly. “I'm glad you had a good nap for the both of us, because my ‘genius’ idea completely backfired. I could barely make it down the stairs after that, let alone string up all these lights.”

Erik started, casting his eyes up to gawk at the countless fairy lights hanging overhead and imagining Charles balancing precariously on a ladder to put them up there. His blood ran cold. “You hung these up yourself? Charles, do you have any idea how dangerous that was? What if you'd fallen down and—”

“Don't spoil this for me, Erik,” Charles harrumphed, even as one edge of his lips quirked up teasingly. “I'm still breathing, I didn't crack my head open, heaven forbid I use my own two hands to make sure everything looks perfect for the occasion.”

Erik raised his eyebrows, wondering if he'd forgotten something important. “What occasion?”

Charles' expression softened completely, and he was smiling like Erik had just said the silliest thing in the world. “You didn’t think I wasn’t going to ask you as well, did you?” Charles murmured as he brought his free hand up to cup Erik’s cheek, voice laced with affection.

His eyes searched Charles’ face, almost frantic. He can’t be saying… No, that’s impossible, a tiny voice whispered in his head. He was stopped from analysing it further by the sudden press of Charles’ moist lips to his own, Erik’s lips parting instinctively to invite Charles in, his hand letting go of Charles’ to curl gently around the side of Charles’ neck. Charles eased away slowly, a disarming smile still playing on his lips, and Erik had about two seconds for his mind to scream insecurities before Charles pulled a dark blue velvet box out of his trouser pocket and swiftly got down on one knee.

Erik felt his heart skip a beat, stuttering and pounding in his chest as a sharp gasp escaped his lips. He stared down at Charles in utter disbelief. All that time spent deliberating and scheming, eventually deciding on that evening in Washington D.C. because there was no way he was going to let a gorgeous Charles in a tuxedo go to waste, and it had never occurred to him that Charles had been making plans, too. Erik used to snort at the idea of settling down, marrying, the notion so far removed from reality, where attempts to socialise with the glitterati felt akin to having his mouth pried open in a dentist’s chair. There was no love lost; judging by how no one had actually deigned to approach him at events of their own accord, either. Emma had once said that only a complete masochist could ever be coerced into dating him, and for some reason that remark had stuck, lodged deep within his psyche and taken root. As such, Erik had always thought that if the time came, certainly it would be up to him to pop the question, because who in their right mind would ever decide that the best they could do was him?

But here was Charles – brilliant, wonderful, and so much more than Erik deserved – holding out a beautiful diamond ring on bended knee.

God, I love him.

Erik’s eyes were beginning to sting, overwhelming emotions contorting his features as he tried his best to hold himself together. It was to no avail, and he soon felt the first traitorous teardrop as it rolled its way down his cheek.

“Oh, darling…” Charles cooed, blinking away the wetness in his own eyes as well, an adorable grin spreading across his face.

They both chuckled sheepishly, and it suddenly occurred to Erik that he had no idea why he was still up here standing, feeling leagues away from where Charles was. He dropped to his knees and took Charles into his arms, and they held on to each other like they were both plunging through air.

“I can’t believe you did all this for me,” Erik said as he cradled Charles’ face in his hands tenderly, before leaning in to kiss his forehead. He stroked his hands down Charles’ arms, letting them come to rest on the jut of Charles’ hipbones.

Charles sniffled, shifting so that he was on both knees as well. He shook his head gently, piercing blue eyes locking with Erik’s. “I’ve made a living out of trying to convince the whole world to love me, when the only affection I’ve ever wanted is yours. Erik, I have been dreaming of this moment for ages, of course I want it to be special,” Charles said, voice trembling, and tipped his head up to kiss Erik sweetly on the lips.

There was a pause as Charles quickly wiped his eyes dry with the inside of his cardigan sleeve before again holding up the open ring box, excitement plainly written across his face. Delight was rolling off Charles in waves, and Erik felt himself powerless against being swept up by it, grinning uncontrollably as he playfully tugged a laughing Charles closer by the hips. Erik circled one arm around Charles’ waist, and that earned him a contented sigh as Charles settled in, smiling gently while he stroked Erik’s shoulder lovingly. Erik could barely contain his happiness.

“Erik, I didn’t realise I had been missing half of myself, until the day you came into my life,” Charles began, the string quartet still playing softly in the distance, creating a delicate atmosphere. Charles slid his palm up from Erik’s shoulder to cup the side of his neck, the movement sending fleeting shivers down Erik’s spine. “And then I understood that I was always meant to be with you,” Charles added, so earnestly that Erik felt something clench violently in his chest, the ache so deep and merciless, like drowning.

Sooty lashes fanned out over pale skin when Charles flickered his gaze down briefly, a wistful expression on his face as he said, “You might think this is silly, but I feel like I’ve known you far, far longer than the amount of time we’ve had with each other, almost as if I have loved you in lifetimes before.” Charles buried his warm fingers in Erik’s hair, using them to tilt Erik’s head down a little, his voice barely above a whisper as he continued, “And sometimes, when we stay up late into the night, trading secrets until one of us falls asleep, I almost convince myself that it’s true.”

Erik’s lower lip trembled as he clutched Charles fiercely to himself, the familiar press of Charles’ body steeling him against the relentless surge of raw emotion. There was no one on earth he could say he understood better than Charles, and likewise, Charles knew everything about him, from his darkest fears to his innermost desires. Every last one of his defences crumbled instantly at Charles’ gentle caress, or the hint of a smile on too-red lips, and Erik often caught himself thinking that one life together with Charles was not enough to fully convey how much he loved him. No amount of time could ever be enough.

“I know you keep telling me things after I've drifted off, Charles,” Erik said, his voice sounding rough to his own ears. Charles’ eyes widened with surprise, and Erik felt a bit guilty when he quietly confessed, “That’s why I pretend to, now and then.”

Charles was blushing slightly, flabbergasted. He was just about to cut in, perhaps insist that Erik was never meant to hear any of that or attempt to take everything back, but Erik would sooner trade all of Utopia than any single one of those stolen confidences. He gave Charles’ arm a reassuring squeeze, smiling tenderly as he added, “You share your wildest dreams with me when you believe I’m no longer listening.”

He paused, remembering that night last week when he’d closed his eyes (just to rest them, really), completely sated by an excellent dinner out on the town and an even better romp in bed, while Charles had told him about the room in the mansion where he and his father had set up several children’s science kits one summer and caused the maids a lot of grief. Charles had thought he’d gone to sleep, trailing off at the end while he pulled the fluffy hotel duvet over Erik. He had felt Charles shift then, leaning in as if to plant a kiss, and already had a ‘goodnight, Liebling’ waiting on his lips. Instead, Charles had lingered just beside his temple and whispered, “If we ever have a son, I’d like to name him Michael, after you.” Erik thought he deserved another Oscar for being able to keep his breathing level upon hearing that, his racing heart only settling back in his chest after Charles had drifted off on his shoulder, allowing Erik to finally gather him in his arms and murmur oaths of love before joining him in sleep.

Erik turned his head now, so that his lips brushed against Charles’ temple. “I like the name Michael Xavier, very much,” he whispered. Charles gasped softly as Erik kissed the breath-warmed skin, and then moved to cradle one side of Charles’ face with his hand. “And I think the same.”

“You do?” Charles asked, wide-eyed and credulous, and Erik swore that he’d even take lifetimes where they can’t be together, just for a few extra moments with Charles, over an eternity of never seeing him again.

Erik leaned forward to press their foreheads together, his vision blurring. “I do.”

The dampness around Erik’s eyes returned when Charles kissed him on the lips, the tip of Charles’ tongue gentle as he deepened it. Erik lost himself in the sweet whimpers that escaped Charles’ throat when he kissed back, loving the feel of Charles’ fingers digging into his scalp. They were both breathless by the time the kiss ended, and Charles placed lingering kisses onto the corners of Erik’s mouth before pulling away.

Charles curled his hand around Erik’s cheek, the gesture a mirror of Erik’s own. “We’re like bookends of the same soul,” Charles said, his eyes glistening in the fairy lights. “And I cannot bear the thought of our time together being limited, not after I’ve spent my whole life searching for you.” He stroked the pad of his thumb along Erik’s cheekbone, eyebrows knitting as he struggled to fight back the tears. “Because I need you, and I love you. No one else can ever compare.”

Erik had no such luck, and was barely able to bite back a sob. He’d never been sentimental before Charles, and now he rued the day he ever made any snide remarks about Charles’ past female co-stars. Clearly he was faring much worse than all of them combined. Charles must have taken pity on him, pulling him in to dry his tear-streaked cheeks with affectionate kisses. He cupped Erik’s face again and smiled, breathtakingly beautiful, the sincerity in his voice when he continued enough to undo Erik all over again. “You are my best friend, and my soul mate, and I cannot wait to build a future together with you.”

Charles glanced down at the ring, holding it higher and grinning so hopefully up at Erik that his heart ached. “Erik Magnus Lehnsherr, will you do me the honour of being my husband?”

“Yes,” Erik answered with absolute conviction, right before he captured Charles’ face and kissed him with all that he had, desperately hoping that each urgent press of lips was able to send even an iota of how much he felt for Charles through to him. When they broke the kiss, Erik saw that Charles was barely keeping it together himself, and he used his thumbs to gently wipe at Charles’ damp cheeks as best he could. “You really shouldn't have to ask, Charles,” he added dotingly.

Charles laughed, removing the ring and setting its case aside. “But I wanted to,” he said, and Erik held out the fingers of his left hand as Charles positioned the brilliant, emerald-cut diamond ring in front of Erik’s fourth finger.

“Wait,” Erik said when he noticed there was an inscription on the inside of the ring, wrapping his fingers around the back of Charles’ hand to pull it closer. Erik sucked in a breath when the engraving caught the light, ‘Seelenfreund’ carved in what was unmistakably Charles’ rounded, broad handwriting along the inner circumference. Soul mate.

Erik keenly remembered that particular German interview they had done for ‘First Class’ last year, where he had candidly agreed with their interviewer that Charles was the number one priority in his life. Conversing in German must have caused him to let his guard down, because he honestly hadn’t given it much thought when he went on to call Charles his seelenfreund, adding that he would do anything within his power for them not to be apart. To him it had simply been stating a fact, no different from saying that the grass was green or Charles’ eyes were a deeper shade of blue than any ocean he had ever seen. Much to his mortification, their interviewer had started clapping like a trained seal and Charles had asked Erik what was going on, seemingly oblivious. Yet, despite having to of course endure Mama gleefully teasing him the next morning, saying she never knew her punim was such a romantic, Erik hadn't regretted his accidental declaration in the slightest. It was the truth, after all.

“I didn’t know you caught that,” Erik said affectionately as he met Charles' gaze. It also astounded him how quickly Charles had picked up German, and with hardly any help from him.

Charles winked and leaned in to kiss his cheek happily. “I hear everything, darling. But please don’t let me be what's stopping you from taking on roles you’re passionate about. You should do what's important to you,” he replied, taking Erik’s left hand in his and slipping the engagement ring up to the first knuckle of Erik’s ring finger. Charles looked up at him with such tenderness in his eyes, sliding the ring home as he quietly said, “And I will always be there.”

The abrupt surge of utter love he felt for Charles consumed him, like wildfire, burning away the man he used to be and transforming him into someone with a heart that was better, softer, and strong as tempered steel. Erik lovingly framed Charles’ face with his hands, the cool platinum band around his finger a distinct contrast to Charles’ heated flesh, the letters that were forever etched into the metal like a brand on his skin. “I love you,” Erik whispered against Charles’ slightly parted lips, just before he tipped his head down and kissed them, trading gentle licks and light nips until Charles was pliant and sighing in his arms.

Erik smiled with satisfaction upon seeing how swollen Charles’ lips were after he pulled away, his pupils blown wide as they locked with Erik’s. Charles was grinning as he said, “I don’t know about you, but my knees would be very grateful if we got off the floor.”

Erik chuckled, getting to his feet and helping Charles up. He wrapped his arms around Charles and quietly scanned his eyes over the area, taking the time to appreciate the beautiful lights and the sprawling stretch of calla lilies. “I still think this was all very unnecessary,” he commented, his tone light and teasing.

“Well, you’ll be happy to hear that this originally featured skywriting, which I got Raven to cancel. I realised it might have been a bit much,” Charles said, giving Erik a quick squeeze with his arms.

Erik raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Just a bit?” he asked, as Charles buried his face in Erik’s chest and laughed.

“I blame the champagne!” Charles groaned in embarrassment, the sound muffled by the turtleneck. Erik stifled a laugh. Charles was blushing furiously when he stepped back, holding out a hand as he said, “May I remedy this with a dance?”

“You may,” Erik replied, highly amused, taking the proffered hand and resting his other palm on the small of Charles’ back. Charles placed his opposite hand on Erik’s shoulder, warm and comforting.

Erik followed smoothly when Charles took a small step backwards, holding him near as they swayed in time to the gentle rhythm of the string music. The movements of the box step came naturally to Erik now, his feet tracing out the patterns from memory, ball to heel. Slow and intimate, just the two of them dancing under the stars. Erik wasn't sure who was leading after a while, but it really didn't matter. Together, then.

“I’ve been looking forward to working on our wedding dance,” Charles said, running his thumb along the fabric above Erik’s clavicle. “I could ask Mother to recommend us a good instructor. We never really managed to practice much dancing, did we? Even though I promised to teach you.”

“That's because we always end up dirty dancing,” Erik said, curling a corner of his lips. An idea struck him and he grinned. “I could Swayze you for the wedding.”

“Erik, don't be ridiculous!” Charles shot back, chortling. “You're not lifting me like Jennifer Grey. No, absolutely not.”

“We could give it a go tomorrow, the river is right there,” Erik poked his head in the general direction of the satellite in the distance, no longer able to keep the laughter from his voice.

“No—” Charles' further protests were aborted when Erik spun him without warning, and he cried a yelp of surprise instead, giggling and breathless as Erik pulled him back in. Erik turned them such that Charles’ back was pressed against his chest, releasing his fingers so he could fold his arms over Charles’ waist as Charles leaned into him, wrists crossed where his hands curled loosely beneath Erik’s. Charles tossed his head back to kiss the line of Erik’s jaw, smiling giddily each time he pressed his lips to Erik’s skin. Erik held him while he calmed down, and chuckled as small puffs of humid breath tickled his neck.

He sensed Charles’ ring under the fingers of his left hand, spreading them so he could lace their fingers together. Their metal bands clinked pleasantly as they settled side by side. “You’re right,” Erik said after a while, letting his gaze fall on the satellite in the distance, its signal lights twinkling in the pitch dark. Charles hummed enquiringly, and Erik kissed the top of his head, giving his hand a fond squeeze. “It feels different, having a ring.”

“And me, Erik. You have me,” Charles whispered.

Erik tipped his head down to capture Charles’ plush lips, ever soft and yielding. Another kiss, to the two freckles on the bridge of Charles’ nose, lingering as he inhaled the scent of his skin. He had known, right from the start, that Charles smelled like home.

He tightened his hold on Charles’ left hand, smiling when Charles’ fingers curled firmly around his in response. The ring was proof. A testament that he had given himself to somebody, that someone out there loved him. That Charles loved him, and wanted him to stay. Always.

---

Notes:
1. The title of this chapter is a quote from 'The Notebook'.
2. Charles having a pastry outside Harry Winston is an homage to the opening scene of ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’.
3. Michael Fassbender played Carl Jung in ‘A Dangerous Method’.
4. For more information on the Defence of Marriage Act, immigration reform, and the HRC gala dinner held on March 23, 2013.
5. Charles and his 5 blue cardigans, we shit you not.
6. The original gif for the video playing in the screencap of the HRC website is from this adorable photoset. Do check it out if you haven’t already seen the interview!
7. Terrence Malick has directed both Michael Fassbender and Jessica Chastain.
8. Another cameo by Peter Parker!
9. The original ‘Strangers on a Train’ photo shoot from the 2008 Vanity Fair Hollywood Issue.
10. Go here to watch the rest of Erik’s Michael’s behind-the-scenes video from his British GQ photo shoot.
11. ETA: And now there's Charles James and Jessica's photo shoot as well.
12. Photos of Ellen and Portia’s anniversary skywriting.
13. From Emma’s stash of blackmail material, video of Shaw dancing in a warehouse. Or: Kevin Bacon in ‘Footloose’.
14. ‘All the Lonely People’ is a reference to the upcoming two-part movie, ‘The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby’, starring James McAvoy and Jessica Chastain.
15. We swear Erik's proposal scene was written before Sirs Ian and Patrick showed up at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner on 27 April, 2013.
16. Honestly, this looks like a date.
17. “Once the Queen is dead, the King is useless. Maybe he's too depressed to fight. He really loved her, you know.” is a quote from ‘Penelope’.
18. Charles' engagement ring is based on the Chopard blue diamond ring.
19. The line about prizes in Cracker Jack boxes is another nod to ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’.
20. The Heart of the Ocean is a fictional blue diamond worn by Rose in 'Titanic'.
21. If you want to say hello to Erik and Charles at the San Francisco Pride, it's being held from 29 – 30 June.
22. Taking bets that this photo that Bryan Singer tweeted from the set of 'Days of Future Past' is related to the Watergate scandal.
23. Sir Ian McKellen and Sir Derek Jacobi in 'Vicious'.
24. ‘Can't Help Falling in Love’ by Elvis Presley was released in 1962.
25. Calla lilies in their backyard.
26. In case you've forgotten how Cerebro the gazebo looks like.
27. Erik's engagement ring is an actual ring by Harry Winston.
28. Charles' proposal speech contains quotes from the original X-Men trilogy movies. “We’re like bookends of the same soul.” is from Excalibur.
29. If you want to read more about Utopia.
30. Michael Xavier is one of Erik's aliases, given to him by Charles when Erik took over the school.
31. Erik is most certainly going to drag Charles to the river. Expectation vs. Reality.
32. Charles was right. DOMA was ruled unconstitutional and Proposition 8 was dismissed on standing today.

If you're interested, there is a higher resolution version of the engagement photo on Tumblr. A masterpost for all the media created for Actorsverse can be found here.