Title: Delight in Drowning
Pairing: Erik/Charles, implied Angel/Banshee, implied Alex/Darwin, implied Azazel/Riptide
Warning: Implied M/M sex.
Summary: Normally, Charles had always been afraid of drowning. But nothing was normal when it came to Erik.
Author Notes: Erik/Charles mainly. Prompt: "Closing his eyes, Charles let himself drown." My mind made up the prompt, but you are free to use it for any fics you wish to write. Just send me a note so I can read them!
For as long as he could remember, Charles had been afraid of drowning. Ever since he had almost died by drowning as a young boy with only Raven to save him because no one else cared. It had started then and over time the fear had become a normal part of life.
Of course, nothing was normal when it came to Erik.
After all, he wasn’t afraid the night he jumped into the ocean after Erik. All right, he was afraid, but for Erik, not himself. And he’d already been drowning the minute he’d sensed Erik’s mind. Drowning in the memories, the man’s strength, and the emotions of anger/hurt/frustration/hate that flooded through his mind. And then physically jumping into the frigid waters and wrapping his arms around that firm chest, trying desperately to save them both from drowning. And when they were treading water, waiting for the ship to help them and Charles had told Erik, “You’re not alone. Erik, you’re not alone.”
He hadn’t been able to keep the grin from his face and he’d almost drowned in the happiness that suddenly engulfed his heart.
Steadily drowning the whole time. Drowning in (irrational) fear/hope/hurt, trying to keep Erik from leaving the CIA base. The next morning, awash with relief and joy at Erik staying and starting to tease each other. Sinking into the comfort of Erik’s solid strength when he’d caught Charles’ fall from after using Cerebro.
He continued drowning in the following months. Into the debates, the recruiting, the training. The chess games by the warmth of the flickering fire, the golden champagne. Drowning in his fascination with, (his love he’d realized) for Erik. Reveling in how safe and comfortable he felt with Erik, their memories they’d shared with each other in dark, quiet nights, Erik’s kindness, ability, and strength. His beautiful/dark/fragile/strong mind. And his body – his scarred, warm, solid body. The few glimpses Charles had caught of him leaving a heat coiling in his belly, burning (or drowning?) him from the inside out. Cocooning himself in the friendship the two of them shared.
It had almost all come apart that day. The silence between him and Erik, Raven still annoyed at him, Hank’s new ‘look’ from the serum he’d developed – and of course, the other three were nervous about the success of the mission. Heck, they all were.
And then helping Erik lift the submarine-ship (‘the point between rage and serenity’) and the fighting and Angel’s ripped wing. And Erik killing Shaw while all Charles could do was stand there and feel it, because otherwise Erik would have been killed.
Erik had come out on the beach after, wearing that damnable helmet, a black void where his beautiful, brilliant mind should be. Charles, still drowning in pain (mental and physical – it hurts to feel a metal coin ripping through your head!), hurt, heartbreak, hope and always, love, had followed after him. And the ships had fired on them and Erik had stopped the missiles and then prepared to send them back at the ships, killing all those people.
And Charles had sunk to such depths in his ocean of need that he had begged him, “Don’t! Please, Erik – if you do this, you’ll be leaving me. Don’t leave me. I need you. Don’t leave me alone.” And Erik had listened, the missiles exploding harmlessly in the air, the helmet crumpled and ruined beyond repair and all of them transporting, thanks to Azazel, back to the mansion.
Things had moved uphill from there. Moira’s mind had still needed to be wiped for their safety, but she was all right and in no danger. Azazel and Riptide had joined them (and started their own relationship). Angel’s wing had regrown and she had started something with Sean, even Darwin had come back having ‘adapted’ to Alex’s attack at Shaw. Alex took a while to accept that he was forgiven, but he and Darwin could now be found together most of the time, usually playing pinball or snogging (or both), much to the amusement of Erik.
Erik. Erik had stayed, too. And Charles was still drowning in him. Drowning now, though in those green green eyes, in Erik’s hot, wet mouth, in the whimpers and sighs filling the air above their (shared) bed. In the long press of heat against his trembling body, in that clever clever tongue undoing him with wicked glee, in the golden scarred body above (and in) him, in the love he saw as Erik gazed down.
Closing his eyes, Charles let himself drown.