XMMF: Charles/Erik, 352 words.
Title: Taste
Fandom: X-men Movieverse, General Series
Pairing, etc: Magneto/Xavier. Set before both movies, as they are both much younger.
Prompt: #39, Taste.
Word Count: 352
Rating: PG, if that
AN: I always liked that scene in X2 where Magneto rises in the air and switches the paneling in Cerebro to focus exclusively on humans. I always imagined him enticing Charles at some point during their building it that he knew exactly how to switch it--and I thought it interesting he barely had to think about it as he did it in X2. Anyway, that was the inspiration for this little drabble.
During those nights when he can't sleep, when the dreams choke his mind with images best left forgotten, he'll disentangle himself from the twisted sheets and go downstairs to Cerebro. He pays little attention to the helmet-that's Charles' area, not his-and he raises his hands and moves the panels around, re-arranging the configuration from Charles' settings into another. The metal slides through the air, the peculiar low humming noise a welcome symphony, and often an hour will slip by before he notices that any time has passed at all.
Perhaps it's the prolonged use of his powers that does it, makes him taste the cold tang of metal in his mouth as he climbs back into bed. Either way, he finds it comforting, that sensory connection he has to his gift, and maybe in the end he goes down to the basement for no other reason than for the taste it leaves behind.
“Where have you been?” Charles asks sleepily, but Erik doesn't answer, because he is sure that doesn't really have to.
There is silence between them as Erik forces his breathing out into a pattern that will resemble sleep, more to hopefully entice that elusive state than to attempt to fool the telepath beside him.
“As long as you put it back,” Charles says finally, and Erik feels the pull of sheets as Charles turns over to go back to sleep.
What if some day I don't put it back? Erik thinks this as loudly as he can, as if he is screaming it, though he has not made so much as a sound. He's lying there waiting for the words Charles never says, the warnings and the admonitions he can feel rising between them but never hears.
He is not sure if he is angry or guilty about that, actually, that Charles does not say anything about his little manipulation of the paneling. He falls into an uneasy sleep and dreams of Cerebro, and when he awakens the dream is forgotten but he can still taste the metal on his tongue.
Fandom: X-men Movieverse, General Series
Pairing, etc: Magneto/Xavier. Set before both movies, as they are both much younger.
Prompt: #39, Taste.
Word Count: 352
Rating: PG, if that
AN: I always liked that scene in X2 where Magneto rises in the air and switches the paneling in Cerebro to focus exclusively on humans. I always imagined him enticing Charles at some point during their building it that he knew exactly how to switch it--and I thought it interesting he barely had to think about it as he did it in X2. Anyway, that was the inspiration for this little drabble.
During those nights when he can't sleep, when the dreams choke his mind with images best left forgotten, he'll disentangle himself from the twisted sheets and go downstairs to Cerebro. He pays little attention to the helmet-that's Charles' area, not his-and he raises his hands and moves the panels around, re-arranging the configuration from Charles' settings into another. The metal slides through the air, the peculiar low humming noise a welcome symphony, and often an hour will slip by before he notices that any time has passed at all.
Perhaps it's the prolonged use of his powers that does it, makes him taste the cold tang of metal in his mouth as he climbs back into bed. Either way, he finds it comforting, that sensory connection he has to his gift, and maybe in the end he goes down to the basement for no other reason than for the taste it leaves behind.
“Where have you been?” Charles asks sleepily, but Erik doesn't answer, because he is sure that doesn't really have to.
There is silence between them as Erik forces his breathing out into a pattern that will resemble sleep, more to hopefully entice that elusive state than to attempt to fool the telepath beside him.
“As long as you put it back,” Charles says finally, and Erik feels the pull of sheets as Charles turns over to go back to sleep.
What if some day I don't put it back? Erik thinks this as loudly as he can, as if he is screaming it, though he has not made so much as a sound. He's lying there waiting for the words Charles never says, the warnings and the admonitions he can feel rising between them but never hears.
He is not sure if he is angry or guilty about that, actually, that Charles does not say anything about his little manipulation of the paneling. He falls into an uneasy sleep and dreams of Cerebro, and when he awakens the dream is forgotten but he can still taste the metal on his tongue.