Fanfic - Secrets
Title: Secrets
Characters/Pairings: Charles/Erik
Rating: PG
Length: ~770
Summary: Charles interrogates Erik about his strange behavior over a game of chess.
Note: Originally written here for renata_kedavra in secret-mutant
It’s late, but Erik is still wearing his sweats, a sign that he is not yet ready to leave the day’s training behind. Charles knows that Erik will go out for one more solitary jog around the mansion after their match, just as he has done every night since they moved here three days ago. Tonight, however, Charles is hoping to make an alteration in Erik’s routine.
Charles smiles as Erik finally makes his move on the board. “There’s no need to be so secretive,” he says, quickly and decisively sliding his bishop across the board.
Erik doesn’t look up from the board for a long moment, and when he does, his eyes are guarded. “I thought you knew all my secrets,” he says darkly, as he picks up his rook and places it in line with Charles’ remaining knight with a hard clack.
For a small breath, Charles lets himself feel the sting of the comment, but he quickly uncrosses his legs and moves his knight forward. “It’s not like that, Erik. I try not to know everything,” he says, voice soft.
“But you could,” Erik says with a sarcastic smile as he contemplates his next move.
Wiping a hand down his face, Charles sighs. “I don’t, though, and that’s what should count, isn’t it?”
Erik merely shrugs and pushes a pawn forward lazily.
Leaning over the chess board, Charles takes the pawn and says, “For instance, I have no idea how you got those scratches on your hand.”
Erik is quick to tug his sleeve down over his wrist. “I helped Raven out of the rose bushes this morning,” he mutters, eyes locked on the board.
Charles raises an eyebrow, but continues, saying, “And I have no idea why you poured yourself a glass of milk this morning when I know you don’t drink it.”
Still, Erik’s gaze remains locked on the chessboard, his fingers tight around his queen.
“Or why you need to wash your clothes so frequently. Or,” he pauses for a breath, “why you won’t let the boys join you on your late night jogs.”
Erik lets go of his queen and glares up at Charles. “Clearly you know something,” he says, voice heated.
Charles smiles again. “Clearly,” he says, knocking back the remains of his drink.
“Then what was the point of this conversation?” Erik growls, moving his queen into check, an easy play that he had been avoiding for several turns.
Moving his king out of check, Charles says, “I didn’t have to read your mind.”
Chasing Charles’ king with his queen, Erik asks, “then what?”
“We’re not alone in this house, Erik,” Charles says. “Alex noticed something was going on and brought it to my attention.”
Erik glares. “There’s nothing going on.”
Drawing his knight back to protect his king, Charles stands up and goes to pour himself another drink. “Oh, I’m sure there isn’t,” he says, carefully considering each bottle, “but if there were, I’m sure you could share it with the children. Despite earlier displays, I’m quite certain they are responsible young people. No need to keep it in the dark on their account.”
“Charles,” Erik says, voice edged with warning, and one of the bottles moves forward, tugged by its metal tag.
Charles draws in a breath as a rush goes down his spine at the display of power. He grabs the bottle and brings it back to their table. “Erik?” he asks, refilling both their tumblers as he surveys Erik’s move in his absence.
Erik takes a long drink before he says, “If you’re sure.”
Grinning, Charles simply moves his queen forward a square. “Check mate.”
--
The next evening, however, Charles is less sure. Although the day was certainly more exciting with Erik’s stray cat along for the journey, their evening game of chess is going horribly.
“There’s fur in my glass,” Charles complains, sticking his tongue out and setting the offending item aside. “Waste of good scotch.”
Erik smirks at him, stroking the purring cat in his lap. “He cleans himself all the time. I’m sure your scotch is fine.”
Charles snorts and leans forward over the chess board, spinning his queen in his fingers as he contemplates where best to place her. Quite suddenly, however, he finds himself looking at a great ball of grey fur instead of a chessboard as the cat launches itself at his hand.
“Erik! Ow! Get it off! It’s ruining the game! Stop biting!” Charles yells, trying to pull back.
Laughing, Erik sits back in his chair, watching, and says, “It was your idea to let him in.”
Characters/Pairings: Charles/Erik
Rating: PG
Length: ~770
Summary: Charles interrogates Erik about his strange behavior over a game of chess.
Note: Originally written here for renata_kedavra in secret-mutant
It’s late, but Erik is still wearing his sweats, a sign that he is not yet ready to leave the day’s training behind. Charles knows that Erik will go out for one more solitary jog around the mansion after their match, just as he has done every night since they moved here three days ago. Tonight, however, Charles is hoping to make an alteration in Erik’s routine.
Charles smiles as Erik finally makes his move on the board. “There’s no need to be so secretive,” he says, quickly and decisively sliding his bishop across the board.
Erik doesn’t look up from the board for a long moment, and when he does, his eyes are guarded. “I thought you knew all my secrets,” he says darkly, as he picks up his rook and places it in line with Charles’ remaining knight with a hard clack.
For a small breath, Charles lets himself feel the sting of the comment, but he quickly uncrosses his legs and moves his knight forward. “It’s not like that, Erik. I try not to know everything,” he says, voice soft.
“But you could,” Erik says with a sarcastic smile as he contemplates his next move.
Wiping a hand down his face, Charles sighs. “I don’t, though, and that’s what should count, isn’t it?”
Erik merely shrugs and pushes a pawn forward lazily.
Leaning over the chess board, Charles takes the pawn and says, “For instance, I have no idea how you got those scratches on your hand.”
Erik is quick to tug his sleeve down over his wrist. “I helped Raven out of the rose bushes this morning,” he mutters, eyes locked on the board.
Charles raises an eyebrow, but continues, saying, “And I have no idea why you poured yourself a glass of milk this morning when I know you don’t drink it.”
Still, Erik’s gaze remains locked on the chessboard, his fingers tight around his queen.
“Or why you need to wash your clothes so frequently. Or,” he pauses for a breath, “why you won’t let the boys join you on your late night jogs.”
Erik lets go of his queen and glares up at Charles. “Clearly you know something,” he says, voice heated.
Charles smiles again. “Clearly,” he says, knocking back the remains of his drink.
“Then what was the point of this conversation?” Erik growls, moving his queen into check, an easy play that he had been avoiding for several turns.
Moving his king out of check, Charles says, “I didn’t have to read your mind.”
Chasing Charles’ king with his queen, Erik asks, “then what?”
“We’re not alone in this house, Erik,” Charles says. “Alex noticed something was going on and brought it to my attention.”
Erik glares. “There’s nothing going on.”
Drawing his knight back to protect his king, Charles stands up and goes to pour himself another drink. “Oh, I’m sure there isn’t,” he says, carefully considering each bottle, “but if there were, I’m sure you could share it with the children. Despite earlier displays, I’m quite certain they are responsible young people. No need to keep it in the dark on their account.”
“Charles,” Erik says, voice edged with warning, and one of the bottles moves forward, tugged by its metal tag.
Charles draws in a breath as a rush goes down his spine at the display of power. He grabs the bottle and brings it back to their table. “Erik?” he asks, refilling both their tumblers as he surveys Erik’s move in his absence.
Erik takes a long drink before he says, “If you’re sure.”
Grinning, Charles simply moves his queen forward a square. “Check mate.”
--
The next evening, however, Charles is less sure. Although the day was certainly more exciting with Erik’s stray cat along for the journey, their evening game of chess is going horribly.
“There’s fur in my glass,” Charles complains, sticking his tongue out and setting the offending item aside. “Waste of good scotch.”
Erik smirks at him, stroking the purring cat in his lap. “He cleans himself all the time. I’m sure your scotch is fine.”
Charles snorts and leans forward over the chess board, spinning his queen in his fingers as he contemplates where best to place her. Quite suddenly, however, he finds himself looking at a great ball of grey fur instead of a chessboard as the cat launches itself at his hand.
“Erik! Ow! Get it off! It’s ruining the game! Stop biting!” Charles yells, trying to pull back.
Laughing, Erik sits back in his chair, watching, and says, “It was your idea to let him in.”