Theme Challenge #9: Blah
#9: Blah
Rating: PG
Pairing: Erik/Charles
Word Count: 316
Warnings: None
“Are you feeling any better?”
Charles shook his head, pulling the heavy woolen blanket tighter around his shoulder. Erik settled next to him on the bed, levitating the metal tray with the remnants of Charles’ breakfast to the floor. The mug of chamomile tea had only been sipped from, and the plate of dry toast was virtually untouched. Charles whimpered and leaned against Erik, burying his face in the other man’s sweater.
“I want to die.”
“Don’t say that.” Erik scolded, stroking Charles’ hair soothingly. “It’s just a twenty-four hour bug. You saw how fast the others got over it, you’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
“Yes, but they’re young!” Charles groaned. “They have little baby immune systems! I’m old!”
“You’re thirty. And I’d hardly call them babies; Raven is only a few years younger than you and she’s better already.”
“I think I’ve thrown up everything I ate in the past forty-eight hours.” Squinting up with a frown, Charles prodded Erik’s chest with a finger. “How did you manage to avoid getting sick?”
Erik shrugged. “Just good luck, I suppose. Though I’ll probably catch it from hanging around you so much.”
“Sorry.” Charles ducked his head down. “You should count yourself lucky- I could be delirious and projecting thoughts all over the place.”
“Well, you’re already projectile vomiting all over the place.”
“Erik, that’s disgusting.” He winced. “And not the best thing to say to a man with a tender stomach.”
Erik wrapped an arm around him, hugging him tightly and kissing the top of his head. It was odd to see such a domestic act from a man whose usual idea of relaxation seemed to involve plotting the deaths of Nazis. “You’ll get better. Here, do you want anything?”
Charles shook his head. “No, I’m alright. Just-“ He looked up at Erik pleadingly. “Stay here, okay?”
“Of course, Charles. I’m not going anywhere.”
Rating: PG
Pairing: Erik/Charles
Word Count: 316
Warnings: None
“Are you feeling any better?”
Charles shook his head, pulling the heavy woolen blanket tighter around his shoulder. Erik settled next to him on the bed, levitating the metal tray with the remnants of Charles’ breakfast to the floor. The mug of chamomile tea had only been sipped from, and the plate of dry toast was virtually untouched. Charles whimpered and leaned against Erik, burying his face in the other man’s sweater.
“I want to die.”
“Don’t say that.” Erik scolded, stroking Charles’ hair soothingly. “It’s just a twenty-four hour bug. You saw how fast the others got over it, you’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
“Yes, but they’re young!” Charles groaned. “They have little baby immune systems! I’m old!”
“You’re thirty. And I’d hardly call them babies; Raven is only a few years younger than you and she’s better already.”
“I think I’ve thrown up everything I ate in the past forty-eight hours.” Squinting up with a frown, Charles prodded Erik’s chest with a finger. “How did you manage to avoid getting sick?”
Erik shrugged. “Just good luck, I suppose. Though I’ll probably catch it from hanging around you so much.”
“Sorry.” Charles ducked his head down. “You should count yourself lucky- I could be delirious and projecting thoughts all over the place.”
“Well, you’re already projectile vomiting all over the place.”
“Erik, that’s disgusting.” He winced. “And not the best thing to say to a man with a tender stomach.”
Erik wrapped an arm around him, hugging him tightly and kissing the top of his head. It was odd to see such a domestic act from a man whose usual idea of relaxation seemed to involve plotting the deaths of Nazis. “You’ll get better. Here, do you want anything?”
Charles shook his head. “No, I’m alright. Just-“ He looked up at Erik pleadingly. “Stay here, okay?”
“Of course, Charles. I’m not going anywhere.”