Rift, Charles/Erik, RPF/Movieverse Crossover - 1/2
Title: Rift | On AO3
Author: qikiqtarjuaq
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Primarily Charles/Erik, with hints of James/Erik, Michael/Charles, James/Michael.
Words: 20,987
Fandom: X-Men: First Class/RPF Crossover.
Summary: Written for a kinkmeme prompt where Michael Fassbender swaps places with Erik in the XMFC universe. Mistaken identities, matchmaking, and shenanigans ensue as Michael and Erik attempt to find their way back home. Set shortly after the events in XMFC.
"Erik, don't do this!"
"I am Magneto." Erik would not be moved by this. In the months since he formed the Brotherhood, he had known this day would come, when he and Charles would be forced to confront each other. He reached out to push his helmet tighter onto himself, as if the barrier it provided against Charles' powers would protect him from the pleading look in Charles' eyes as well. Still. This time, they were alone, neither bringing backup for what both considered a recruitment mission with little risk. He relented slightly. "It is not too late to join me, Charles."
"You know that I cannot."
"Then it appears that I have no choice."
Steeling himself against the hurt look in Charles' eyes, he turned his power against the metal of the wheelchair. It twisted and folded in on itself, trapping Charles inside. In a forgotten corner of the small room, a child's cry pierced the air and the ground beneath them rumbled and shifted.
***
The first thought that occurred to Michael as his eyes flew open was that James was really killing the scene today. Magneto's heart has got to be made of stone to resist that hurt puppydog look on James' face, he thought to himself. Oh God, and he just did that thing with the moist eyes and wibbling lower lip. Can I just hug him? I'm going to hug him once this take is over.
The second thought that came to him was that all of James' acting in this scene was going to waste because he could not for the life of him remember what his line was supposed to be.
"Charles. Join me." There. That was a suitably reasonable line Magneto might say.
Without breaking eye contact with James, who was currently suspended in the air and being held tightly in a wheelchair that was almost twisted beyond recognition, he used his peripheral vision to peek at the set around them. It looked like some sort of child's room, with bright purple walls and toys strewn about the floor. Was this a scene in the movie? Was Charles supposed to be paralyzed already? The last thing he remembered was the wrap party for the movie, where the entire cast and crew got completely drunk off their arses to celebrate the end of filming. He remembered James leaning all over him, giggling and making horribly inappropriate jokes. And now they were here. Filming a scene he did not remember reading in a script that was clearly set after the events in the movie.
Suddenly, James cried out in pain and he snapped his attention back to the man in front of him. One of the metal bars pressed tightly against James' stomach had apparently moved and drawn blood.
"You're hurt!" Michael broke character and looked frantically around the room for a PA, a stunt coordinator, a techie, or anyone who could help. And he froze. This wasn't a set at all. There were no cameras in sight, no lights, and in fact, no one else around at all. He looked at James and the wheelchair contraption again. There are no wires holding it up.
A horrible realization washed over him, and then the wheelchair unfolded itself and fell to the ground, dropping James with it in an ungraceful heap.
"Are you all right? You're bleeding!" He rushed over and cradled James in his arms almost helplessly. James didn't respond, except to look at him with bright blue eyes filled with emotion. For a moment, he felt his breath taken away at the intensity of that look. This wasn't the way James normally looked at him. It wasn't the way James ever looked at him. There was something so naked and openly vulnerable about it that he felt distinctly uncomfortable, as though this wasn't meant for him at all.
"It's not a serious wound, Erik. I'll be fine." A small pause. "In fact, I am happier than you can imagine that you still value me my life in some way."
Erik? I'm not Erik. Michael blinked in confusion. Then, a theory formed in his mind. Oh. Of course. What movie would be complete without the obligatory cast pranks? Who else was in on this? He thought back again on the wrap party, where James first proposed the drinking contest. So that was the trick, then? Get Fassbender drunk and then trick him into thinking he's Magneto?
He let out a deep breath of relief. Well, at least James wasn't actually hurt, though that fall did look a bit painful. And the more he thought about it, the more he was impressed with the effort they'd gone through to make this work. How did they do the trick with the floating wheelchair, I wonder? Are there hidden cameras? I'll bet there are hidden cameras.
"Erik, I... Please let me..." James was apparently still trying to stay in character, his hands shaking as they moved to take off the metal helmet.
"Oh, for the love of -- stop it!" he said with a bit more harshness than he intended. Really, though, this trick stretched his suspension of disbelief just a bit too far. There was being drunk and easily confused, and then there was being stupid to the point of delusion. It still didn't stop the pang of guilt that hit him at the hurt look in James' eyes as his hands stopped in mid-air, though.
"I am sorry, my friend. I had hoped--" James withdrew his hands to his lap and twisted them nervously. "Well, of course, I understand if you no longer trust me. We have hurt each other these past months, both of us. But Erik--"
"I'm not Erik." Michael regretted those words almost immediately as James turned the 'woe-is-me-angst-meter' up to 11, his entire face contorting into a mask of pain. It was honestly a bit ridiculous how easily James could get anyone to do their bidding with the smallest shift in expressions, even when the other party knew they were nothing but crocodile tears. Well, not really anyone. Mostly him. This time, though, he resolutely refused to pull James in closer for a hug. Because the other man most certainly did not need a hug, and was probably cackling on the inside.
"Magneto. What do you intend to do then? I don't think you want me dead."
"Well, of course I don't want you dead!" With a grunt, he stood and pulled James up into a sitting position. "Here's what we're going to do. You're going to stop this ridiculous charade, get those scratches and bruises looked at by a professional, then we'll go to the hotel, order ridiculously expensive room service and just... think of anything to do that isn't pretending we're mortal enemies who hate each other. Got it?"
James simply gaped at him. Then a tentative smile curved on his face. "Anything, Erik?"
Michael rolled his eyes. James would find some innuendo in this, of course he would. "If you think for a second that you can get me into bed with you without some proper romance, complete with poetry, wine and fancy dinners, you are sorely mistaken."
At that, James actually blushed all the way up to the tip of his ears. Michael sighed. It was really difficult to stay annoyed at the man, especially when he was blushing so adorably. He stopped in his tracks. James? Blushing? When did James ever have a sense of shame about anything?
"You know, Erik. I don't think I've ever hated that damned helmet of yours any more than I do at this very moment. I can only hope that I did not misread you."
Michael could barely force out a response before he was pulled down on top of the other man, and his lips were captured in a passionate kiss.
"Come home, come home, please," the whispered words filled his ears. When his mind finally caught up to the events happening, he flailed his arms and pulled himself free.
"What?" was all that he could manage to say.
"Erik, I-- I'm sorry. I thought you were offering -- at least tonight..."
Michael didn't respond as he looked at the completely dejected and forlorn man sitting in front of him. He suddenly had a very very bad feeling about all of this.
***
At the last minute, Erik hesitated. This was still Charles. He sagged backwards a little. It was too soon, the wounds still too raw. He couldn't harm Charles. He would have to, one day. But not now. Not even over this mutant, despite her power.
The ground shifted beneath him, and he suddenly lost his bearings, falling to the floor with a loud thud. Before he could scramble up, he was tackled by a giggling Charles Xavier. Considering that they had been at each other's throats only moments before, and that Charles had long lost use of his legs, there was nothing about this scenario that made any sense. Carefully, he reached up to adjust his helmet, to make sure that someone wasn't projecting some sort of mental illusion on him.
"Oh no, Magneto. You should keep your helmet on when we make love."
Erik could only look on in pure and complete bewilderment. When did Charles become Scottish?
"Kiss him! Kiss him!"
Erik's head jerked up at the sound of a third voice. It was Raven, disappointingly in her human form. He was about to make a snide comment about being her lack of pride in her mutant form before he noticed Hank standing next to her, with none of his blue fur. He quickly scanned his surroundings, unsure what to make of this new information. They were in some sort of club, it appeared. And for some unfathomable reason, his mutants and Charles' mutants were all mingling together. Raven and Hank, both looking disgustingly normal, were laughing and clapping their hands. Next to them, Alex was holding up a strange tiny device with a flashing red light on it, aimed directly at him and Charles.
He growled. He had no idea which of Hank's new inventions the boy was aiming at him, but all his senses screamed danger. Instinctively, he pulled Charles against himself and launched both of them into the air, landing behind a sofa. He then reached out with his powers to grasp at the device in Alex's hands, and worryingly came up empty. It must not be made of metal?
His thoughts were interrupted by a pair of hands weakly batting at his face. "Michael, do you have any idea how heavy you are? Oof, let me top instead!"
"Who the hell is Michael?"
"What?"
They stared at each other.
"Guys! Guys! I got this! It's going on youtube! Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr duke it out over who gets to top!"
"Our new publicity campaign: Professor X and Magneto - They're Totally Fucking!"
Erik didn't recognize any of the new voices that chimed in with their commentary, but he felt an unusual heat creep up his face. His friendship - no, former friendship with Charles was sometimes a sore point with the bolder mutants who dared to speak up against him. But he had made certain that his feelings for Charles, and all that they'd shared stayed firmly in the past, hidden behind an icy mask and a metal helmet. If any of them knew, it would mean the end of him. Perhaps the end of them both.
No. No one knew. Not even Charles - kind, honorable Charles who never delved into his mind without permission - not even Charles knew. No one must find out. It was nothing but a cruel joke. And he'll make certain they don't live to repeat it.
His eyes flickered towards the large, metal light fixture in the ceiling. He reached out with mind and pulled. A second passed by, then a few more. And nothing happened. Suddenly, Erik found himself unable to breathe. His powers were gone! He looked again at the crowd surrounding them, and frowned. Raven looked human, and Hank as well. Alex was no longer wearing the device that controlled his power. And there was Angel, with no sign of her wings or tattoos in sight. Did they all lose their powers? It was a horrifying thought. These men mocking him, these human... did they do this? Was the war lost in such a blink of an eye, without him even being aware of it?
"Oi, Michael. Are you all right? You're not breathing." Charles sounded concerned. "Do you need some water? Did you hit your head?"
"Jesus, look at how pale he is! Lose the camera!"
"Get that helmet off him! Whose idea was it for him to put it on anyway?"
"It's fine. I'll take care of him."
A flurry of voices surrounded him, and the next thing he knew, he was being carried discreetly to a back entrance and shoved into a car. To his relief, Charles immediately joined him.
"Hey. Hey. Everything all right?"
There was a momentary panic when he realized that he no longer had his helmet, but his mind remained strangely silent. He shivered. He didn't expect that Charles would reach out for him again. Of course not. He chose to block Charles out, and even without the helmet, the other man was likely to respect his wishes.
"Charles." He almost choked on his own words. "Charles, I lost my powers. I lost them. I can't feel -- I can't feel anything. I should be able to lift this damned car up but I can't even feel its frame! You know what happened! Why were all our mutants in this place together?"
He reached out and projected as strongly as he could, trying to find the warm, assuring presence of Charles' mind. "Did we all lose our powers? Were you going to tell me at some point?"
"Um. Michael? You're not Magneto. You're Michael Fassbender. You're an actor who plays Magneto in a film. You can't actually move metal or control magnetism yourself. I'd make an inappropriate joke about how I'm metal and how you're obviously attracted to me, but you don't look to be in any mood to listen to it."
"Charles, I don't understand what you're saying."
"And I'm not Charles. I'm not a telepath. I'm James. James McAvoy. Also an actor. And an adorable Scottish chappy."
Erik could only look on in confusion. The possibility that this was all an elaborate telepathic illusion created by either Charles or Emma was strong in his mind, but quite frankly, he doubted that Emma had the creativity to come up with something so utterly bizarre. And as for Charles, it couldn't possibly be that he of all people would imagine himself as an overly tactile Scottish actor. He tried not to think about the possibility of a third, unknown telepath currently playing havoc with his mind.
An uncomfortable silence fell in the car. He glanced over at Charles, or James, whoever this man was claiming to be.
"What are you doing? Is that one of Hank's devices?" It looked similar to the small metal device with the blinking light that Alex was holding up earlier.
"That's... Michael, I'm texting. Everyone is heading back to my hotel room, and we're holding an intervention for you."
"Texting?"
"You're really going to keep this up? This pretending to be Magneto thing?"
"I'm not pretending!"
"Yes you are! Or I hope you are, because otherwise, I'm making sure you never get another drop of alcohol to drink again. I'll handcuff us together and have both of us stay sober if I have to."
"You think I'm worried about alcohol? I've gone days without even eating." Erik smirked. "As it turns out, being hunted by a major government agency while hiding mutant refugees isn't the idyllic life you might have imagined."
"Oh God. This is worse than I thought," muttered Charles (or James), as his fingers flew even faster over the tiny pads on the device he was holding.
**
Michael shoved his hands in his pockets, and resolutely looked at the ground. After a few moments of silence, he shuffled his feet and folded his arms across his chest. Finally, he gave up and collapsed on the bed behind him. In the span of several hours, he'd somehow ended up transported from a party surrounded by all of his friends to a ridiculously large mansion with the only person on earth who would prefer that he was a murderous super-villain instead.
He looked over at Charles - and it was strange, thinking of this carbon copy of James as Charles - but the other man had his nose buried in a book on quantum physics and gave no indication of wanting a conversation with him.
Michael idly tapped at the side of his helmet, and wondered if it'd be rude to take it off when in the same room as a telepath. Would that make him like one of those people who talked with onboxiously loud voices in a library? Of course that wasn't the real reason Charles had asked him to keep the helmet on. Charles could easily block out his thoughts or dim them to the extent that they're nothing but a low hum in the background. Not that Michael knew first-hand, but it just seemed like a logical sort of skill that a powerful telepath would have to develop or risk going insane. It wasn't to protect him from Emma searching for him either, though Charles claimed that was the most compelling reason for him to keep it on.
He sighed and tried to distract himself by making shadow puppets on the wall. Was he honestly getting worked up over hurting the feelings of a fictional character? Charles looked and felt just as real as any of the people he'd met, though. And that moment when Charles took off his helmet to confirm that he was telling the truth...
Michael shuddered. He never thought of himself as particularly inexperienced in life, and he'd had his share of break-ups and the heartaches that came with them. But if he could never experience that split second of anguish and disappointment that went through his mind again, he'd count himself a very lucky man. Charles had apologized profusely on the way back to the mansion, of course. And it was easy to forgive the babbling man next to him, whose calm exterior suddenly seemed to have a million cracks threatening to break him apart at the lightest touch.
For a moment, Charles had been led to believe that Erik was willing to come back with him. And now Charles was worse off than before, having had a taste of hope. It wasn't his fault, but somehow, Michael felt deeply responsible for what Magneto did to Charles. Should I have played him a little differently, maybe? If we don't do a sequel, could that have left open a better path to reconciliation? Was that even how it worked? We film something, and it happens in this universe? What about all the little things that were implied off-screen?
"Charles? I need to ask you a question."
"Of course."
"When you and Erik went to recruit Angel, did you project the image of him in a skimpy blue dress and a red wig to her?"
Charles stared him open-mouthed in response, his face turning several different shades of crimson. Michael couldn't help but laugh. "All right. Question answered."
"That was... that was in the film of yours? That people saw?" Charles was cringing.
"Don't worry. Erik's masculinity is still intact. That scene ended up being cut."
"Oh, I see."
"Interesting that it still happened to you guys, though."
Charles turned his full attention on Michael now. "Do you theorize that your universe controls ours?"
Michael blinked. "Well, yeah. I mean, that thing you do with the fingers against your head - James came up with that. And the jazz hands thing that Erik does - I came up with that."
"The jazz hands thing?"
"You know." Michael put on his 'concentration' face, extended his palms outward and splayed his fingers. "Jazz hands!"
It was a testament to Charles' reaction speed that he managed to duck out of the way of all the metallic objects in the room suddenly flying up and crashing to the floor. Michael looked sheepish.
"Whoops?"
"We're really going to have to re-train you in using your powers," said Charles as he got back in his chair gingerly. And for the first time tonight, Michael thought he saw a hint of a smile on Charles' face.
***
"The others will be here in about five minutes," James told him.
Erik nodded. Five minutes should be enough time to mull things over. Two facts were becoming obvious to him. First, he needed more time and freedom to investigate this world, whether it was a projection or some strange alternate reality. Second, as long as he insisted that he was Magneto, James and his friends would not be letting him out of their sights. It was clear that he needed to step into this Michael's shoes, but how? He had no real knowledge of the man's personality or his life.
His eyes roamed around the room and landed on James. From the badly hidden expression of distress on James' face, it was clear that his own behaviour diverged wildly enough from Michael's usual mannerisms that it worried the other man. So, Michael Fassbender, not a particularly accomplished prankster and probably a terrible poker player.
Erik relaxed his shoulders and forced the tension out of his body. Quietly, he sidled up next to the other man and leaned slightly against him. James jumped up and scooted away from him, but not before Erik registered the instinctive return of his touch.
"... Michael?"
Erik sighed theatrically. He threw an arm over James' shoulders and pulled him back down next to him. "Yes, James, it's me. Anyone ever tell you that you're no fun at all? How am I supposed to play a prank on everyone if you're off to the side looking like a kicked puppy?"
"Dammit, Michael!" James punched him in his arm. "You actually had me worried!"
Erik laughed. "All right, James, you can pretend to be angry with me later--"
"You think this is an act? Wait until you feel my unleashed Scottish fury!"
"That sounded dirty. And sexy."
"It was meant to." James grinned.
"So, that's your ulterior motive for taking me back to your room, is it?" Erik couldn't help but grin back. James seemed to accept the innuendo-laden banter they had as genuine, and if Erik were completely honest, it wasn't entirely unpleasant to be flirting with someone who shared the same easy smile and bright blue eyes as Charles. He pushed down the pang of guilt and regret that this could never happen with the real Charles. He would have time for self-pity later. He needed to play this role perfectly.
James winked at him and began to strip his shirt off. Erik's eyes widened, suddenly distracted. Is it possible that in this world, they were --? Erik's thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on the door. He wasn't sure if he should be relieved that he would be able to gather more information before reacting James' (joking?) offer or disappointed that this didn't have a chance to go further. Then, he remembered the reason he was even pretending to be another man.
"James, wait!"
James' hand hovered over the doorknob. "Yeah?"
"Want to play along? And scare the kids a bit?"
"Hmm. It's true that somehow, I was the one to suffer the most through this prank of yours."
"And that's just not right, is it?"
"All right, you've got it. I'm in!"
Erik smiled. This part should be easier, with him reverting to his "role" as Magneto. He drew himself up to his full height and adopted his best menacing scowl. He noted with satisfaction that each of the kids tentatively stepping into the rooms made sure to stay the maximum distance away from him.
It was Sean who spoke up first. Or rather, a boy who bore a remarkable resemblance to Sean. "So, I checked Wikipedia on my phone while we were driving back, and apparently, this is called a Grandiose Delusion."
"Oh, Caleb. Wikipedia? Really?" James shook his head. Erik wondered if it was deliberate that James started channeling the same expression Charles had anytime one of the children did something disappointing.
"Well, it's not a bad place to start," the boy replied defensively.
"Is anyone going to tell me who or what Wikipedia is?" asked Erik, seeing the perfect opportunity to gather more information.
"Oh, hey. They didn't have Wikipedia back in the 60s, did they? Or smartphones?" said Raven.
"I still don't buy it. You're putting us on, Fassbender. I know it." Alex piped up, looking at him with suspicion.
"I don't know, guys. I really think he's serious about this." James bit at his lower lip and positively radiated> distress. Erik idly pondered whether the ability to evoke pathos in even the most coldhearted person was considered a mutant power. "We have to help him. Convince him he's not a mutant in the 60s."
"How do we do that?"
"Oh, I know! We can show him clips from the movie!" James grinned wickedly at him.
"The movie supposedly made about me? About us?"
"Not about you, Michael. About a fictional character you portrayed." James pulled out a small bag from under the bed, and drew out a thin, metallic notebook that he placed on the bed. He flipped open its screen and his fingers started tapping away on the keys beneath the screen.
"The DVD isn't out yet, of course. But I got to keep a clip that held some special significance for me."
The screen lit up, and with a few more seemingly random taps, the blue-grey-ish background was replaced by a brighter scene. They were in the club where they first recruited Angel. Then the whole room burst out in laughter and applause as Erik saw himself change into an unfortunately revealing blue dress and a tacky red wig. His mouth dropped open and he fought the flush that threatened to creep up his neck. His eyes darted around the room, but the scene was not met with any hostility or disgust, and he allowed himself to relax fractionally. This was another world, and another time.
James leaned over, his laughter ghosting over Erik's skin. "You know, I've never found you more attractive than when you were wearing that dress. I think it's the plunging neckline. Or your amazing figure."
Erik knew that he should come up with some sort of witty reply, but with James' body practically draped over him and his own memories of that particular excursion with Charles, it was getting increasingly difficult for him to focus.
"Believe us now, Magneto? There's no way you'd have this recorded for anyone." Hank's voice broke through his thoughts and Erik shrugged James off, almost too forcefully.
"Did you build that contraption, Hank? How do I know you're not just... displaying my memories somehow?" He made a vague gesture at James.
"That -- you mean James' laptop?" Alex spoke up again between fits of laughter. "I doubt it has the CPU power to even play the Sims, let alone display someone's memories."
"Hey, don't go around insulting my laptop. It's been my faithful companion and a reliable source of pornography for years now," James deadpanned.
"I knew it! You secretly get off on Michael in that dress, don't you?"
"I don't think it's a secret."
"The Internet is for porn!" someone else sang out.
"All right, that's enough. Michael? I think we had our fun."
Erik agreed. His gaze was on the laptop currently lying open on the bed. His instincts were telling him that it could be the key to discovering more about this world, especially if there were more clips that he could find.
"All right, all right, I don't actually think I'm Magneto," he admitted sheepishly.
"I knew it! I was right!" Alex was triumphant.
"Like anyone other than James even fell for it."
"Remind me to sell you that bridge in Brooklyn sometime, James!"
"Hey. Hey. I was completely in on the joke from the start!"
Somewhere in the room, a champagne bottle was opened, and everyone crowded towards it. Taking advantage of their distraction, Erik quietly slid over on the bed and experimentally tapped away at the keys. He first tried to type out 'Wikipedia' to see if the letters at least would appear on the screen. Nothing happened and he frowned. Checking again to make sure that no one else was watching him, he tapped out the word 'pornography.' Still nothing.
All right. So maybe that would have been too easy. He moved his fingers along the square pad below the keys, and a small arrow moved on the screen. Aha. Now we're getting somewhere. He looked more closely at the little squares in the background and moved an arrow over the one that said 'Thunderbird'. None of the names made particular sense to him but this one sounded like it could be interesting. After a series of random tapping and a few knocks on the laptop, a new square appeared on-screen, displaying multiple lines of text, each associated with a time and date.
"NATURAL PENIS ENHANCEMENT" screamed top line. A complete non-sequitor followed: "Canadian pharmacy meds." And then "Lesbians are waiting for you!"
Erik scratched his head. This... was a new side to James he wasn't sure he was interested in finding out more about. Deciding that nothing could be more bizarre than what he'd just read, he moved his arrow towards the picture that said 'Firefox.' The whole screen turned white this time. Brightly coloured letters procrlaiming 'Google' sat in the middle and below them "Google Search" and "I'm Feeling Lucky." Erik smiled, feeling as though lady luck was being generous with him tonight. A google search?
On a whim, he typed out "James McAvoy." Well. It wasn't Cerebro. He didn't receive a set of coordinates or location information on James. It did return a screen full of text about the actor, however, and Erik followed the one that contained the word 'Wikipedia,' remembering their earlier discussion. He had to look twice to make sure that he wasn't seeing things, shocked at the amount of information immediately available to him. Somehow, it didn't seem right that so much of James' private life should be so open to anyone who could type out his name, but for now, Erik was glad for the resource. If he had to play a close friend to the man, he'd need to know at least some basic information about him. For that matter, he'd need just the same type of information about Michael Fassbender as well. It was extremely tempting to visit the videos that turned up as well, but the sound would no doubt draw unwanted attention. For now, the text and pictures would have to do.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but the next thing he knew, the room was silent and James was flopped down on the bed next to him. "Googling yourself, Michael? Really?"
"I was bored," he replied with a pout. "You've been ignoring me all night."
"You have no one but yourself to blame for that. You looked so furtive I thought for sure you were surfing through my porn collection. I didn't want to intrude, of course." James raised an eyebrow. "So? Any juicy gossip about yourself?"
"Not really, no. My deepest, darkest secrets are safe for now."
"Good. Now, off you go! I need my beauty sleep."
It occurred to Erik that he had no idea where his room was supposed to be, but that wouldn't matter for tonight. He had done his research on this world and its technologies, and he was ready to experience it first hand.
"Good night, sleeping beauty."
***
"If I could have any superpower? I'd like to have a tail. I could hold a lemonade while I'm on the computer."
Another day, another interviewer asking the exact same question. He gave the same answer he'd carefully rehearsed and pretended to look attentive while waiting for the interview to be over.
He supposed that he could have gone for a more ambitious power. Telepathy had its obvious advantages, or he wouldn't have bothered recruiting Emma for his cause. It could be blocked with technology though, and Erik doubted that he had the disposition or patience to be bombarded with the inane thoughts of everyone around him without going into a homicidal rage. Since he formed the Brotherhood, he'd also recruited a variety of mutants, all with powers that were useful in one way or another. Still, none could compare with the ability to reach out and feel the absolute control he had over every metallic molecule in a room. And for some reason, it was apparently 'boring' or 'unfashionable' to answer the question with his own power. In the end, it was Azazel who gave him inspiration for his answer. His tail wasn't often the object of attention - that was his teleportation ability - but more than once, Erik had caught himself surprised by how that simple extension of Azazel's body was downright convenient. A tail would be an innocuous and reasonable answer, Erik had decided. It didn't carry with it connotations of destruction that many of the Brotherhood's mutants' powers did, nor any obvious downsides or ethical dilemmas like telepathy.
Lost in thought, Erik didn't notice when James sat down next to him after another gruelling day of press. "A tail to help with your new Internet addiction? That's what you're going to keep claiming is your dream superpower?"
"What's wrong with wanting a tail? At least my wish isn't to go around groping people, Amoré."
"Hey now, Amoré is a matchmaker, not a pervert! I would just lightly touch someone, like this..." James brushed his hand over Erik's arm with a wicked grin as Erik suppressed a shiver. "And then I would tap their soulmate's shoulder, they would turn to each other and it would be love at first sight!"
"How would you even know that they're soulmates?" he grumped.
"My... x-ray love vision?"
"You're ridiculous."
"Seriously though, what would your mutant name even be? Tail-O?"
"James, I'm going to stop talking to you and walk away now."
"I'm just saying. Our superhero team needs to have more compatible powers. Amoré is out there spreading the love, while you sit around in front of your computer sipping lemonade?"
Erik sighed. "I'll see you tomorrow, James."
It wasn't that Erik had nothing better to do than capitulate to the shameless whining of a Scottish actor who's too cheeky and too charming for his own good. It was just that James had a rather distracting habit of becoming incredibly tactile when there was something he wanted, invading Erik's personal space as though he belonged there. And Erik shouldn't care, shouldn't be affected, shouldn't respond or lean into that warm touch. Then James would look at him with the same bright blue eyes that still held the light of happiness, a look that he hadn't seen on Charles in far too long, and Erik would want nothing more than to pretend for a few moments longer.
"I'd like to fly. That should be a lot of fun, I'd imagine," Erik answered when the question was posed to him again in the next city.
"If I made you fall in love with me though, you could just fly me anywhere I wanted."
He hid his sharp intake of breath with a laugh. James had a talent for catching him off-guard. "That's true. Exactly."
The rest of the interview passed in a blur. When James tried to stop him afterwards, he mumbled something and shoved his way past the other man. How did he go from leading a resistance of mutants against human oppression to speaking on television about spraying love all over the universe? Sometimes he feared that he was getting too deep in-character.
"Michael! Wait!"
Erik pretended not to hear.
"Wow. Just in time!" Slightly out of breath, James squeezed himself into the backseat of the cab with Erik.
"I'm not headed back to the hotel, James."
"I know. Meeting up with Bryan and Matthew to talk sequels, right?"
"Right." Erik forced himself to smile. In hindsight, he should have anticipated this. It hardly made sense not to invite James to a meeting like that, even if it was informal. He leaned back and closed his eyes. It was somehow fitting that James, who was basically Charles' evil twin, would be the one wildcard for him in this new world, keeping him on his toes as often as Charles had back home.
Erik launched directly into his carefully rehearsed speech as soon as they sat down in the small corner booth in the restaurant. "For the sequel, we should have Magneto and Professor X team up against a dangerous new anti-mutant group. I've been tracking the fan responses on the Internet, and it's all been incredibly positive towards the relationship between the two of them."
"I'm all for amping up the tension between Charles and Erik," agreed James. "It would be interesting to see their conflicting viewpoints in an environment of forced cooperation."
"We might even see Charles coming around to Erik's point of view once he sees what the humans are capable of doing to innocent mutants."
"Well, I don't know about that. Maybe Erik will be the one to join Charles in his cause--"
"And a good evening to you too, gentlemen." Matthew looked amused. "Cutting right to the chase?"
Erik shrugged. "Unless you're interested in our input about box office revenue and the financial feasibility of a sequel?"
"I guess not," laughed Bryan. "So. You two like the idea of Professor X and Magneto teaming up again?"
"Yeah. You know, I don't think those two can so easily sever their ties, and in the end, they both want what's best for mutantkind. They just have slightly different ideas of how to accomplish that. If they had a dangerous enough threat, though, I think they could put aside their differences and work together." Erik kept a careful eye on James to gauge his response.
"Slightly different?" James raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I agree with the rest of it, but the tragedy of their relationship is that these two men have this once-in-a-lifetime connection that they have to put aside for this incredibly fundamental philosophical difference that they have."
"Well, every other adaptation has pretty much run that into the ground, don't you think? This is a reboot, and we can go for something darker and grittier." Erik mentally checked off each buzzword as he said them. "Imagine Charles having a crisis of faith and joining forces with Magneto."
"I'm not sure Charles would--"
"James would do a great job of it too," added Erik quickly, cutting James off. "He has an incredible range, you know. And he would do conflicted and dark very well."
"And then what? They take over the world, and the credits roll?" Matthew spoke up.
"Matthew does have a point," said Bryan. "If those two teamed up for the wrong side, they would simply be too powerful, especially if Charles doesn't have his usual ethics and morals to keep them in check."
"Charles turning to the dark side is probably too dangerous," agreed James, giving Erik a rueful look. "I appreciate the vote of confidence in my acting, Michael, but the comic books probably have the right of it, with Magneto occasionally joining the good guys. There's been a few redemption storylines, right?"
"Oh, so Magneto joining Charles wouldn't be overpowered?" asked Erik snidely. "Look, it's great that Charles has these ideals about peaceful resolutions, but I think it's pretty damned clear how lacking in practicality his entire crusade is--"
"Is that how his school for mutants achieved such great success, then? And how he became one of the most respected and powerful mutants in the world?" James shot back.
"And how has improving mutant acceptance gone for him? He's managed to eliminate all the anti-mutant discrimination in the world?"
"Well, no, but the answer to that isn't joining the Brotherhood. Magneto's a sympathetic figure, but he's still a villain, a killer..."
"Have you ever thought that there would be less deaths if we stopped fighting each other and united against the enemy? If we want to remove humans from power, that sometimes that means getting rid of persistent obstacles. Why should the humans be the ones in charge of the mutants' fates? Mutants are the ones who will be moving the species forward. The assignment of telepaths as judge and jury eliminate mistrials; a powerful mutant is simply a more efficient soldier in times of war; harnessing teleportation has unlimited applications for travel and exploration. Mutants shouldn't be feared and controlled. They should be raised up to positions of power to realize their full potential."
Bryan blinked. "Have you writing the script to the sequel in your spare time, Michael?"
"I was, um, I was just thinking of how things looked from Magneto's point of view." Erik unclenched his fists and smiled awkwardly as he noticed everyone staring at him.
Matthew cleared his throat. "Another round of drinks, everyone? I'm glad you both have such strong opinions about where your characters can go for the sequel, but maybe we should worry about the sequel when things are confirmed with the studio. Now, let's kiss and make up, all right?"
In a testament to his bad mood, Erik barely reacted as James climbed into his lap, though he couldn't quite suppress a shiver when James nibbled at his ear.
"You can't let your anger consume you like this, Erik," whispered James, his breath hot against Erik's skin. "You lost more than just a friend on the beach that day. Do you really never wonder what could have been?"
Before he could react, he felt the warm press of James' lips against his own and all coherent thought fled his mind. Tentatively, Erik ran his tongue over those soft, lush lips as he had so often imagined doing. You taste good, he wanted to say, but the only sound that came out was a low moan. James responded by parting his lips, allowing Erik to gently push his tongue into his mouth. Sighing, Erik threaded his hands through James' hair, relishing every sensation thrumming through his body. This was wrong, so very wrong because Charles would never want this with Erik - why am I torturing myself this can never be this isn't real - but Erik couldn't bring himself to stop because in that moment, he was sure that there was nothing else he could want in this world except the feel of the other man in his arms.
When they finally pulled apart, Bryan and Matthew were both pretending to be fascinated by the ceiling. Erik coughed and shoved James aside, still breathing heavily. He took some solace in the fact that James' face was flushed an attractive shade of red as well.
"Well. Let's hope this doesn't end up on the front page of the tabloids tomorrow," said Matthew with a nervous laugh.
"Too dark for pictures, I'm pretty sure," said Bryan helpfully.
"Time to go, I think," said James, all but dragging Erik outside with him.
When they were alone, Erik nudged James. "You called me Erik."
James shrugged, keeping his eyes on the ground. "Yeah. I've suspected ever since I checked my search history and saw the sites you looked up."
"And here I thought I'd been doing a great job until tonight."
"I probably should have told you earlier, but, well. I thought you would be less scary if you still had to pretend to be Michael," admitted James sheepishly.
Erik chuckled. They walked on in a companionable silence.
"You know, I have wondered. I wonder every day," Erik said quietly.
"Not... not about the kissing," he clarified, seeing the look on James' face. "I mean, I think about that, but Charles doesn't - he likes women - so I don't... there's no point." He let out a noise of frustration. "I just wish we were still friends."
"I'm sure he still considers you to be a friend, Erik."
Erik laughed. "I betrayed his trust, crippled him, and stole away his sister before abandoning him on that beach. And since then, the Brotherhood has only worked against him and his students." He shook his head. "Charles is a good man, but he's not a saint. I am no longer a friend of his. And if I want my cause to succeed, I should not consider him a friend of mine either."
"You said yourself that it's not so easy to sever your ties with him."
Erik briefly considered punching James out for using his own words against him now that he no longer had to pretend to be Michael. He sighed unhappily, giving up the idea as quickly as it had come to him. For better or worse, the best course of action was making James an ally, especially considering his lack of other options.
"Do you know what I was doing the night I ended up being transported to your world?"
"I probably shouldn't answer that with something dirty, should I?"
Erik ignored the innuendo. "I was tracking down a mutant who was rumoured have the powers to manipulate time."
"Like time travel?"
"It wasn't too clear from what the information we gathered. There were some instances of people losing time around her, but she is still very young. No one knew the full extent of her powers."
James' eyes widened. "You were hoping that she could though."
"I would be lying if I said that I have no regrets over the things I've done."
"So you ended up here because you wanted to change the past, and now you're trying to influence the future?"
"I'm an ambitious man, James. And if you would help out, I could succeed on that second count."
James looked at him thoughtfully. "You know, there's a theory about parallel universes that says there's a new reality spawned every time a decision made. An almost infinite number of realities to reflect every possible decision. In our world, none of the incarnations of you and Charles got past their differences, so I don't think we can make a movie where that happens without sending the comic book fans into a frenzy. That's the only reason I disagreed with you earlier." James took a deep breath. "But what's to say that your world is constrained by what we decide to write here? Maybe what influences the writers are only subconscious glimpses of one version of your reality. If you want Charles by your side again, maybe you can make that happen for yourself."
"So I should renounce my evil ways? Crawl back to Charles and beg his forgiveness?" Erik felt that familiar rush of anger bubbling up again.
"Erik." James grabbed his wrist and stopped him in his tracks. "Do you know why I kissed you tonight?"
And suddenly, James was too close and memories of their earlier kiss flooded through his mind. He pulled back and threw off James' hand as though he was burned. "How should I know? Because you're evil and have been trying to kill me with sexual frustration these past few weeks?"
"No!" James looked like he wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry. "God, you're ridiculous. No. It's because if it's true that what we did here was a reflection of your world, or if we influenced your world in any way... then you should know that the way I played Charles... I played him as a man who loved you deeply. Who was in love with you."
Erik froze.
"I just thought you should have that information before you made your decision."
***
If Michael's life were a movie, this would be the part where the inspirational music from the soundtrack started while a series of endearing clips of his training played in slow motion. Unfortunately, despite being literally in a movie world, he was currently sitting on the grass, buried under a pile of small coins. Apparently, the universe did not see it fit to allow him the luxury of dignity.
"On the bright side, I'm fairly sure there's no one in the mansion who still thinks you're Erik now," said an entirely too cheerful Charlies Xavier. The rest of the team had stayed at a careful distance from him, which Michael had initially put down to their fear of Magneto and men looking suspiciously like Magneto. Given their current state of giggling and hysterical laughter, though, Michael suspected it was more that they just didn't want to get hit by any of the coins. This was all Charles Xavier's fault.
Scowling, he gave Charles his best menacing death glare, before remembering that this was a guy who spent much of the past few months making goo-goo eyes at Magneto. Right. Not going to intimidate this guy.
An amused chuckle sounded in the back of his mind. That's not precisely how I would have described my interactions with Erik.
Michael raised one eyebrow at Charles and projected as many scenes as he could remember where he and James conspired to add a little extra subtext. He smirked in satisfaction when Charles proceeded to blush a very pretty shade of red. Michael: 1, Charles and the X-Men: 17.
Charles cleared his throat. "Why don't we start from the beginning, then."
"This is hopeless," he grumbled as he began to levitate the coins one by one again. "I have no idea how he managed to stop all these missiles. After too many coins, I just lose track and it all goes to hell! And no, finding the point between rage and serenity isn't really helping me right now."
"I wish you were comfortable enough to let me further in your mind," said Charles, turning the full power of his puppy dog eyes on Michael. "I've spent enough time in Erik's mind that I could try and show you the techniques he used to control his power."
Michael sighed. It wasn't really that he had any embarrassing secrets that he was hiding from Charles. He had no problems letting the telepath skim the surface of his thoughts whenever he pleased. It was just that with so much knowledge about Charles and Erik's future (potential futures?), he couldn't help but worry about somehow destroying the space-time continuum by letting Charles find out about it.
I think the universe is made of stronger stuff than that, Michael.
Not a fan of the Butterfly Effect?
You need to learn to use your powers, Michael. We don't know how long you'll be staying here, and you can only stall the Brotherhood for so long before someone comes to find you. You may have to go back with them if worse comes to worst.
Michael winced at the thought of having to impersonate Erik in the middle of a group of highly dangerous mutants. You do know that I'm not actually a superhero, right? I only play one on TV.
Charles put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I will search for the mutant who brought you here with Cerebro again tonight. Our best hope is still to have this situation fixed before you're forced to return to the Brotherhood. In the meantime, however..."
"All right, fine. Do your little fingering trick, and let's see if I can't manage something more impressive than lifting a bunch of coins. With any luck, I can smack Sean in the face with something for all the laughing he's doing."
"That's the spirit!" Charles laughed. "Are you ready?"
"Yes." Michael closed his eyes and waited. He felt slight tingling feeling travelling up the back of his neck, though he knew that no one was touching him.
Going into your memories will feel slightly different than what we do to communicate now. It will be a bit more visual, and it may trigger your other senses as well.
It tickles.
Just relax.
Michael's rebellious mind chose that moment to call up an inappropriate parallel to a blushing virgin being deflowered. Charles' eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. Michael fought the wave of embarrasment that washed over him, because really, he can't be the only person who's thought of sex around Charles considering the number of teenagers the man had running around the mansion. And if you really thought about it, the subtext was rather strong for this, wasn't it?
Charles continued to look at him like a deer stuck in headlights.
I blame James for this. It's all the jokes about fingering, bending over, and penetration that he liked to make during this scene.
Michael. If we're going to continue with this, I'm afraid you're going to have to stop conjuring up these images. I am not a prude, of course, but these are... quite vivid.
Oh. I probably can't blame James for that. Michael gave a helpless shrug. Sorry, Charles. I recently came off filming a new movie that's a bit on the explicit side. Some of the stuff we did for the cameras were things I hadn't even heard of myself.
As memories of his time on Shame popped up in his mind, Charles had a sudden coughing fit, his face becoming even redder. If this wasn't so amusing, and let's be honest, if Michael had a conscience about teasing adorable professors who looked like his best friend, he'd probably feel bad about it. Maybe. Michael often forgot that not everyone was comfortable with nudity, and of course someone brought up in the 60s would have a different set of sensibilities altogether. He had never been shy, though. One of his first paying jobs had been a commercial where he spent the entire time naked. And well, his latest movie rather spoke for itself as far as his lack of inhibitions went.
Still, Charles' reaction surprised him a little. He could see Erik being a bit of a stick in the mud -- His mind stopped and honed in on that thought. Erik. My identical twin. Charles' object of lust, performing depraved and pornographic acts in my memories. No wonder he was blushing!
I can still hear you, Michael. Charles' mental voice sounded sullen.
Enjoy the show, Charles? He started laughing. How did he get to this point? Magically transported to a movie universe where he was now making a telepath blush with dirty images? This was the most ludicrous thing that had ever happened to him. And at once, he felt as though a weight was lifted off his shoulders. A sudden clarity came to him and every piece of metal in the area seemed to call out his name. Keeping track of them was trivial now and still grinning, he levitated all the coins and arranged them into formations that spelled out rude words.
"Well, I'm glad my misery and sexual frustration has helped you focus your powers, Michael," said Charles, apparently taking this opportunity to beat a dignified retreat from Michael's mind.
"Schadenfreude, my friend. I am half-German, after all." Michael looked thoughtfully at Charles, then slowly lifted him up with his wheelchair.
"Is this a roundabout way of saying that you want me out of your sight, Michael?" shouted Charles as he was lifted higher and higher off the ground.
"If you miss me, you just have to say so!" It took his concentration off moving the coins, but he was able to fly up to join Charles, relishing the look of surprise on the other man's face.
"Remarkable. You're picking up on your powers very quickly."
They spent the rest of the day exploring the limits to his powers. Michael recalled several tricks that Magneto could do in the comics that made Charles frown at him.
"Best not to test out if you can shift the earth's axis or cause natural disasters, Michael." Charles had said dryly.
They did test out some of the less destructive theories, though. Manipulating the natural iron content in blood didn't work, at which Charles sighed in relief. He tried to read Charles' mind by 'reading' the brainwaves sent out, but he couldn't grasp any concrete thoughts. Once the more outlandish theores were tested, they went back to practicing his control and his range.
At one point, Michael wondered if it was a bit unethical that Charles was essentially researching Erik's abilities - and well, they were still technically enemies, weren't they?
"I honestly don't think that I could ever harm him," was Charles' quiet reply.
"Sorry."
The testing felt half-hearted after that, and soon Michael made an excuse and went to bed, emotionally and physically exhausted.
"You'll be getting some rest soon too, Charles?"
"I will. Just need to one last sweep with Cerebro to try and find that mutant again."
Michael nodded, and padded off to his room for the night. In his dreams, he was standing in front of a full-length mirror outside the mansion where he had been training earlier. His reflection was snarling at him, eyes red with rage. He wanted to turn away, wanted to run, but he was frozen in place. His scream was choked off as his reflection reached through the mirror for his neck. The mirror cracked into a million pieces and he sat up with a gasp.
Part 2
Author: qikiqtarjuaq
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Primarily Charles/Erik, with hints of James/Erik, Michael/Charles, James/Michael.
Words: 20,987
Fandom: X-Men: First Class/RPF Crossover.
Summary: Written for a kinkmeme prompt where Michael Fassbender swaps places with Erik in the XMFC universe. Mistaken identities, matchmaking, and shenanigans ensue as Michael and Erik attempt to find their way back home. Set shortly after the events in XMFC.
"Erik, don't do this!"
"I am Magneto." Erik would not be moved by this. In the months since he formed the Brotherhood, he had known this day would come, when he and Charles would be forced to confront each other. He reached out to push his helmet tighter onto himself, as if the barrier it provided against Charles' powers would protect him from the pleading look in Charles' eyes as well. Still. This time, they were alone, neither bringing backup for what both considered a recruitment mission with little risk. He relented slightly. "It is not too late to join me, Charles."
"You know that I cannot."
"Then it appears that I have no choice."
Steeling himself against the hurt look in Charles' eyes, he turned his power against the metal of the wheelchair. It twisted and folded in on itself, trapping Charles inside. In a forgotten corner of the small room, a child's cry pierced the air and the ground beneath them rumbled and shifted.
***
The first thought that occurred to Michael as his eyes flew open was that James was really killing the scene today. Magneto's heart has got to be made of stone to resist that hurt puppydog look on James' face, he thought to himself. Oh God, and he just did that thing with the moist eyes and wibbling lower lip. Can I just hug him? I'm going to hug him once this take is over.
The second thought that came to him was that all of James' acting in this scene was going to waste because he could not for the life of him remember what his line was supposed to be.
"Charles. Join me." There. That was a suitably reasonable line Magneto might say.
Without breaking eye contact with James, who was currently suspended in the air and being held tightly in a wheelchair that was almost twisted beyond recognition, he used his peripheral vision to peek at the set around them. It looked like some sort of child's room, with bright purple walls and toys strewn about the floor. Was this a scene in the movie? Was Charles supposed to be paralyzed already? The last thing he remembered was the wrap party for the movie, where the entire cast and crew got completely drunk off their arses to celebrate the end of filming. He remembered James leaning all over him, giggling and making horribly inappropriate jokes. And now they were here. Filming a scene he did not remember reading in a script that was clearly set after the events in the movie.
Suddenly, James cried out in pain and he snapped his attention back to the man in front of him. One of the metal bars pressed tightly against James' stomach had apparently moved and drawn blood.
"You're hurt!" Michael broke character and looked frantically around the room for a PA, a stunt coordinator, a techie, or anyone who could help. And he froze. This wasn't a set at all. There were no cameras in sight, no lights, and in fact, no one else around at all. He looked at James and the wheelchair contraption again. There are no wires holding it up.
A horrible realization washed over him, and then the wheelchair unfolded itself and fell to the ground, dropping James with it in an ungraceful heap.
"Are you all right? You're bleeding!" He rushed over and cradled James in his arms almost helplessly. James didn't respond, except to look at him with bright blue eyes filled with emotion. For a moment, he felt his breath taken away at the intensity of that look. This wasn't the way James normally looked at him. It wasn't the way James ever looked at him. There was something so naked and openly vulnerable about it that he felt distinctly uncomfortable, as though this wasn't meant for him at all.
"It's not a serious wound, Erik. I'll be fine." A small pause. "In fact, I am happier than you can imagine that you still value me my life in some way."
Erik? I'm not Erik. Michael blinked in confusion. Then, a theory formed in his mind. Oh. Of course. What movie would be complete without the obligatory cast pranks? Who else was in on this? He thought back again on the wrap party, where James first proposed the drinking contest. So that was the trick, then? Get Fassbender drunk and then trick him into thinking he's Magneto?
He let out a deep breath of relief. Well, at least James wasn't actually hurt, though that fall did look a bit painful. And the more he thought about it, the more he was impressed with the effort they'd gone through to make this work. How did they do the trick with the floating wheelchair, I wonder? Are there hidden cameras? I'll bet there are hidden cameras.
"Erik, I... Please let me..." James was apparently still trying to stay in character, his hands shaking as they moved to take off the metal helmet.
"Oh, for the love of -- stop it!" he said with a bit more harshness than he intended. Really, though, this trick stretched his suspension of disbelief just a bit too far. There was being drunk and easily confused, and then there was being stupid to the point of delusion. It still didn't stop the pang of guilt that hit him at the hurt look in James' eyes as his hands stopped in mid-air, though.
"I am sorry, my friend. I had hoped--" James withdrew his hands to his lap and twisted them nervously. "Well, of course, I understand if you no longer trust me. We have hurt each other these past months, both of us. But Erik--"
"I'm not Erik." Michael regretted those words almost immediately as James turned the 'woe-is-me-angst-meter' up to 11, his entire face contorting into a mask of pain. It was honestly a bit ridiculous how easily James could get anyone to do their bidding with the smallest shift in expressions, even when the other party knew they were nothing but crocodile tears. Well, not really anyone. Mostly him. This time, though, he resolutely refused to pull James in closer for a hug. Because the other man most certainly did not need a hug, and was probably cackling on the inside.
"Magneto. What do you intend to do then? I don't think you want me dead."
"Well, of course I don't want you dead!" With a grunt, he stood and pulled James up into a sitting position. "Here's what we're going to do. You're going to stop this ridiculous charade, get those scratches and bruises looked at by a professional, then we'll go to the hotel, order ridiculously expensive room service and just... think of anything to do that isn't pretending we're mortal enemies who hate each other. Got it?"
James simply gaped at him. Then a tentative smile curved on his face. "Anything, Erik?"
Michael rolled his eyes. James would find some innuendo in this, of course he would. "If you think for a second that you can get me into bed with you without some proper romance, complete with poetry, wine and fancy dinners, you are sorely mistaken."
At that, James actually blushed all the way up to the tip of his ears. Michael sighed. It was really difficult to stay annoyed at the man, especially when he was blushing so adorably. He stopped in his tracks. James? Blushing? When did James ever have a sense of shame about anything?
"You know, Erik. I don't think I've ever hated that damned helmet of yours any more than I do at this very moment. I can only hope that I did not misread you."
Michael could barely force out a response before he was pulled down on top of the other man, and his lips were captured in a passionate kiss.
"Come home, come home, please," the whispered words filled his ears. When his mind finally caught up to the events happening, he flailed his arms and pulled himself free.
"What?" was all that he could manage to say.
"Erik, I-- I'm sorry. I thought you were offering -- at least tonight..."
Michael didn't respond as he looked at the completely dejected and forlorn man sitting in front of him. He suddenly had a very very bad feeling about all of this.
***
At the last minute, Erik hesitated. This was still Charles. He sagged backwards a little. It was too soon, the wounds still too raw. He couldn't harm Charles. He would have to, one day. But not now. Not even over this mutant, despite her power.
The ground shifted beneath him, and he suddenly lost his bearings, falling to the floor with a loud thud. Before he could scramble up, he was tackled by a giggling Charles Xavier. Considering that they had been at each other's throats only moments before, and that Charles had long lost use of his legs, there was nothing about this scenario that made any sense. Carefully, he reached up to adjust his helmet, to make sure that someone wasn't projecting some sort of mental illusion on him.
"Oh no, Magneto. You should keep your helmet on when we make love."
Erik could only look on in pure and complete bewilderment. When did Charles become Scottish?
"Kiss him! Kiss him!"
Erik's head jerked up at the sound of a third voice. It was Raven, disappointingly in her human form. He was about to make a snide comment about being her lack of pride in her mutant form before he noticed Hank standing next to her, with none of his blue fur. He quickly scanned his surroundings, unsure what to make of this new information. They were in some sort of club, it appeared. And for some unfathomable reason, his mutants and Charles' mutants were all mingling together. Raven and Hank, both looking disgustingly normal, were laughing and clapping their hands. Next to them, Alex was holding up a strange tiny device with a flashing red light on it, aimed directly at him and Charles.
He growled. He had no idea which of Hank's new inventions the boy was aiming at him, but all his senses screamed danger. Instinctively, he pulled Charles against himself and launched both of them into the air, landing behind a sofa. He then reached out with his powers to grasp at the device in Alex's hands, and worryingly came up empty. It must not be made of metal?
His thoughts were interrupted by a pair of hands weakly batting at his face. "Michael, do you have any idea how heavy you are? Oof, let me top instead!"
"Who the hell is Michael?"
"What?"
They stared at each other.
"Guys! Guys! I got this! It's going on youtube! Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr duke it out over who gets to top!"
"Our new publicity campaign: Professor X and Magneto - They're Totally Fucking!"
Erik didn't recognize any of the new voices that chimed in with their commentary, but he felt an unusual heat creep up his face. His friendship - no, former friendship with Charles was sometimes a sore point with the bolder mutants who dared to speak up against him. But he had made certain that his feelings for Charles, and all that they'd shared stayed firmly in the past, hidden behind an icy mask and a metal helmet. If any of them knew, it would mean the end of him. Perhaps the end of them both.
No. No one knew. Not even Charles - kind, honorable Charles who never delved into his mind without permission - not even Charles knew. No one must find out. It was nothing but a cruel joke. And he'll make certain they don't live to repeat it.
His eyes flickered towards the large, metal light fixture in the ceiling. He reached out with mind and pulled. A second passed by, then a few more. And nothing happened. Suddenly, Erik found himself unable to breathe. His powers were gone! He looked again at the crowd surrounding them, and frowned. Raven looked human, and Hank as well. Alex was no longer wearing the device that controlled his power. And there was Angel, with no sign of her wings or tattoos in sight. Did they all lose their powers? It was a horrifying thought. These men mocking him, these human... did they do this? Was the war lost in such a blink of an eye, without him even being aware of it?
"Oi, Michael. Are you all right? You're not breathing." Charles sounded concerned. "Do you need some water? Did you hit your head?"
"Jesus, look at how pale he is! Lose the camera!"
"Get that helmet off him! Whose idea was it for him to put it on anyway?"
"It's fine. I'll take care of him."
A flurry of voices surrounded him, and the next thing he knew, he was being carried discreetly to a back entrance and shoved into a car. To his relief, Charles immediately joined him.
"Hey. Hey. Everything all right?"
There was a momentary panic when he realized that he no longer had his helmet, but his mind remained strangely silent. He shivered. He didn't expect that Charles would reach out for him again. Of course not. He chose to block Charles out, and even without the helmet, the other man was likely to respect his wishes.
"Charles." He almost choked on his own words. "Charles, I lost my powers. I lost them. I can't feel -- I can't feel anything. I should be able to lift this damned car up but I can't even feel its frame! You know what happened! Why were all our mutants in this place together?"
He reached out and projected as strongly as he could, trying to find the warm, assuring presence of Charles' mind. "Did we all lose our powers? Were you going to tell me at some point?"
"Um. Michael? You're not Magneto. You're Michael Fassbender. You're an actor who plays Magneto in a film. You can't actually move metal or control magnetism yourself. I'd make an inappropriate joke about how I'm metal and how you're obviously attracted to me, but you don't look to be in any mood to listen to it."
"Charles, I don't understand what you're saying."
"And I'm not Charles. I'm not a telepath. I'm James. James McAvoy. Also an actor. And an adorable Scottish chappy."
Erik could only look on in confusion. The possibility that this was all an elaborate telepathic illusion created by either Charles or Emma was strong in his mind, but quite frankly, he doubted that Emma had the creativity to come up with something so utterly bizarre. And as for Charles, it couldn't possibly be that he of all people would imagine himself as an overly tactile Scottish actor. He tried not to think about the possibility of a third, unknown telepath currently playing havoc with his mind.
An uncomfortable silence fell in the car. He glanced over at Charles, or James, whoever this man was claiming to be.
"What are you doing? Is that one of Hank's devices?" It looked similar to the small metal device with the blinking light that Alex was holding up earlier.
"That's... Michael, I'm texting. Everyone is heading back to my hotel room, and we're holding an intervention for you."
"Texting?"
"You're really going to keep this up? This pretending to be Magneto thing?"
"I'm not pretending!"
"Yes you are! Or I hope you are, because otherwise, I'm making sure you never get another drop of alcohol to drink again. I'll handcuff us together and have both of us stay sober if I have to."
"You think I'm worried about alcohol? I've gone days without even eating." Erik smirked. "As it turns out, being hunted by a major government agency while hiding mutant refugees isn't the idyllic life you might have imagined."
"Oh God. This is worse than I thought," muttered Charles (or James), as his fingers flew even faster over the tiny pads on the device he was holding.
**
Michael shoved his hands in his pockets, and resolutely looked at the ground. After a few moments of silence, he shuffled his feet and folded his arms across his chest. Finally, he gave up and collapsed on the bed behind him. In the span of several hours, he'd somehow ended up transported from a party surrounded by all of his friends to a ridiculously large mansion with the only person on earth who would prefer that he was a murderous super-villain instead.
He looked over at Charles - and it was strange, thinking of this carbon copy of James as Charles - but the other man had his nose buried in a book on quantum physics and gave no indication of wanting a conversation with him.
Michael idly tapped at the side of his helmet, and wondered if it'd be rude to take it off when in the same room as a telepath. Would that make him like one of those people who talked with onboxiously loud voices in a library? Of course that wasn't the real reason Charles had asked him to keep the helmet on. Charles could easily block out his thoughts or dim them to the extent that they're nothing but a low hum in the background. Not that Michael knew first-hand, but it just seemed like a logical sort of skill that a powerful telepath would have to develop or risk going insane. It wasn't to protect him from Emma searching for him either, though Charles claimed that was the most compelling reason for him to keep it on.
He sighed and tried to distract himself by making shadow puppets on the wall. Was he honestly getting worked up over hurting the feelings of a fictional character? Charles looked and felt just as real as any of the people he'd met, though. And that moment when Charles took off his helmet to confirm that he was telling the truth...
Michael shuddered. He never thought of himself as particularly inexperienced in life, and he'd had his share of break-ups and the heartaches that came with them. But if he could never experience that split second of anguish and disappointment that went through his mind again, he'd count himself a very lucky man. Charles had apologized profusely on the way back to the mansion, of course. And it was easy to forgive the babbling man next to him, whose calm exterior suddenly seemed to have a million cracks threatening to break him apart at the lightest touch.
For a moment, Charles had been led to believe that Erik was willing to come back with him. And now Charles was worse off than before, having had a taste of hope. It wasn't his fault, but somehow, Michael felt deeply responsible for what Magneto did to Charles. Should I have played him a little differently, maybe? If we don't do a sequel, could that have left open a better path to reconciliation? Was that even how it worked? We film something, and it happens in this universe? What about all the little things that were implied off-screen?
"Charles? I need to ask you a question."
"Of course."
"When you and Erik went to recruit Angel, did you project the image of him in a skimpy blue dress and a red wig to her?"
Charles stared him open-mouthed in response, his face turning several different shades of crimson. Michael couldn't help but laugh. "All right. Question answered."
"That was... that was in the film of yours? That people saw?" Charles was cringing.
"Don't worry. Erik's masculinity is still intact. That scene ended up being cut."
"Oh, I see."
"Interesting that it still happened to you guys, though."
Charles turned his full attention on Michael now. "Do you theorize that your universe controls ours?"
Michael blinked. "Well, yeah. I mean, that thing you do with the fingers against your head - James came up with that. And the jazz hands thing that Erik does - I came up with that."
"The jazz hands thing?"
"You know." Michael put on his 'concentration' face, extended his palms outward and splayed his fingers. "Jazz hands!"
It was a testament to Charles' reaction speed that he managed to duck out of the way of all the metallic objects in the room suddenly flying up and crashing to the floor. Michael looked sheepish.
"Whoops?"
"We're really going to have to re-train you in using your powers," said Charles as he got back in his chair gingerly. And for the first time tonight, Michael thought he saw a hint of a smile on Charles' face.
***
"The others will be here in about five minutes," James told him.
Erik nodded. Five minutes should be enough time to mull things over. Two facts were becoming obvious to him. First, he needed more time and freedom to investigate this world, whether it was a projection or some strange alternate reality. Second, as long as he insisted that he was Magneto, James and his friends would not be letting him out of their sights. It was clear that he needed to step into this Michael's shoes, but how? He had no real knowledge of the man's personality or his life.
His eyes roamed around the room and landed on James. From the badly hidden expression of distress on James' face, it was clear that his own behaviour diverged wildly enough from Michael's usual mannerisms that it worried the other man. So, Michael Fassbender, not a particularly accomplished prankster and probably a terrible poker player.
Erik relaxed his shoulders and forced the tension out of his body. Quietly, he sidled up next to the other man and leaned slightly against him. James jumped up and scooted away from him, but not before Erik registered the instinctive return of his touch.
"... Michael?"
Erik sighed theatrically. He threw an arm over James' shoulders and pulled him back down next to him. "Yes, James, it's me. Anyone ever tell you that you're no fun at all? How am I supposed to play a prank on everyone if you're off to the side looking like a kicked puppy?"
"Dammit, Michael!" James punched him in his arm. "You actually had me worried!"
Erik laughed. "All right, James, you can pretend to be angry with me later--"
"You think this is an act? Wait until you feel my unleashed Scottish fury!"
"That sounded dirty. And sexy."
"It was meant to." James grinned.
"So, that's your ulterior motive for taking me back to your room, is it?" Erik couldn't help but grin back. James seemed to accept the innuendo-laden banter they had as genuine, and if Erik were completely honest, it wasn't entirely unpleasant to be flirting with someone who shared the same easy smile and bright blue eyes as Charles. He pushed down the pang of guilt and regret that this could never happen with the real Charles. He would have time for self-pity later. He needed to play this role perfectly.
James winked at him and began to strip his shirt off. Erik's eyes widened, suddenly distracted. Is it possible that in this world, they were --? Erik's thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on the door. He wasn't sure if he should be relieved that he would be able to gather more information before reacting James' (joking?) offer or disappointed that this didn't have a chance to go further. Then, he remembered the reason he was even pretending to be another man.
"James, wait!"
James' hand hovered over the doorknob. "Yeah?"
"Want to play along? And scare the kids a bit?"
"Hmm. It's true that somehow, I was the one to suffer the most through this prank of yours."
"And that's just not right, is it?"
"All right, you've got it. I'm in!"
Erik smiled. This part should be easier, with him reverting to his "role" as Magneto. He drew himself up to his full height and adopted his best menacing scowl. He noted with satisfaction that each of the kids tentatively stepping into the rooms made sure to stay the maximum distance away from him.
It was Sean who spoke up first. Or rather, a boy who bore a remarkable resemblance to Sean. "So, I checked Wikipedia on my phone while we were driving back, and apparently, this is called a Grandiose Delusion."
"Oh, Caleb. Wikipedia? Really?" James shook his head. Erik wondered if it was deliberate that James started channeling the same expression Charles had anytime one of the children did something disappointing.
"Well, it's not a bad place to start," the boy replied defensively.
"Is anyone going to tell me who or what Wikipedia is?" asked Erik, seeing the perfect opportunity to gather more information.
"Oh, hey. They didn't have Wikipedia back in the 60s, did they? Or smartphones?" said Raven.
"I still don't buy it. You're putting us on, Fassbender. I know it." Alex piped up, looking at him with suspicion.
"I don't know, guys. I really think he's serious about this." James bit at his lower lip and positively radiated> distress. Erik idly pondered whether the ability to evoke pathos in even the most coldhearted person was considered a mutant power. "We have to help him. Convince him he's not a mutant in the 60s."
"How do we do that?"
"Oh, I know! We can show him clips from the movie!" James grinned wickedly at him.
"The movie supposedly made about me? About us?"
"Not about you, Michael. About a fictional character you portrayed." James pulled out a small bag from under the bed, and drew out a thin, metallic notebook that he placed on the bed. He flipped open its screen and his fingers started tapping away on the keys beneath the screen.
"The DVD isn't out yet, of course. But I got to keep a clip that held some special significance for me."
The screen lit up, and with a few more seemingly random taps, the blue-grey-ish background was replaced by a brighter scene. They were in the club where they first recruited Angel. Then the whole room burst out in laughter and applause as Erik saw himself change into an unfortunately revealing blue dress and a tacky red wig. His mouth dropped open and he fought the flush that threatened to creep up his neck. His eyes darted around the room, but the scene was not met with any hostility or disgust, and he allowed himself to relax fractionally. This was another world, and another time.
James leaned over, his laughter ghosting over Erik's skin. "You know, I've never found you more attractive than when you were wearing that dress. I think it's the plunging neckline. Or your amazing figure."
Erik knew that he should come up with some sort of witty reply, but with James' body practically draped over him and his own memories of that particular excursion with Charles, it was getting increasingly difficult for him to focus.
"Believe us now, Magneto? There's no way you'd have this recorded for anyone." Hank's voice broke through his thoughts and Erik shrugged James off, almost too forcefully.
"Did you build that contraption, Hank? How do I know you're not just... displaying my memories somehow?" He made a vague gesture at James.
"That -- you mean James' laptop?" Alex spoke up again between fits of laughter. "I doubt it has the CPU power to even play the Sims, let alone display someone's memories."
"Hey, don't go around insulting my laptop. It's been my faithful companion and a reliable source of pornography for years now," James deadpanned.
"I knew it! You secretly get off on Michael in that dress, don't you?"
"I don't think it's a secret."
"The Internet is for porn!" someone else sang out.
"All right, that's enough. Michael? I think we had our fun."
Erik agreed. His gaze was on the laptop currently lying open on the bed. His instincts were telling him that it could be the key to discovering more about this world, especially if there were more clips that he could find.
"All right, all right, I don't actually think I'm Magneto," he admitted sheepishly.
"I knew it! I was right!" Alex was triumphant.
"Like anyone other than James even fell for it."
"Remind me to sell you that bridge in Brooklyn sometime, James!"
"Hey. Hey. I was completely in on the joke from the start!"
Somewhere in the room, a champagne bottle was opened, and everyone crowded towards it. Taking advantage of their distraction, Erik quietly slid over on the bed and experimentally tapped away at the keys. He first tried to type out 'Wikipedia' to see if the letters at least would appear on the screen. Nothing happened and he frowned. Checking again to make sure that no one else was watching him, he tapped out the word 'pornography.' Still nothing.
All right. So maybe that would have been too easy. He moved his fingers along the square pad below the keys, and a small arrow moved on the screen. Aha. Now we're getting somewhere. He looked more closely at the little squares in the background and moved an arrow over the one that said 'Thunderbird'. None of the names made particular sense to him but this one sounded like it could be interesting. After a series of random tapping and a few knocks on the laptop, a new square appeared on-screen, displaying multiple lines of text, each associated with a time and date.
"NATURAL PENIS ENHANCEMENT" screamed top line. A complete non-sequitor followed: "Canadian pharmacy meds." And then "Lesbians are waiting for you!"
Erik scratched his head. This... was a new side to James he wasn't sure he was interested in finding out more about. Deciding that nothing could be more bizarre than what he'd just read, he moved his arrow towards the picture that said 'Firefox.' The whole screen turned white this time. Brightly coloured letters procrlaiming 'Google' sat in the middle and below them "Google Search" and "I'm Feeling Lucky." Erik smiled, feeling as though lady luck was being generous with him tonight. A google search?
On a whim, he typed out "James McAvoy." Well. It wasn't Cerebro. He didn't receive a set of coordinates or location information on James. It did return a screen full of text about the actor, however, and Erik followed the one that contained the word 'Wikipedia,' remembering their earlier discussion. He had to look twice to make sure that he wasn't seeing things, shocked at the amount of information immediately available to him. Somehow, it didn't seem right that so much of James' private life should be so open to anyone who could type out his name, but for now, Erik was glad for the resource. If he had to play a close friend to the man, he'd need to know at least some basic information about him. For that matter, he'd need just the same type of information about Michael Fassbender as well. It was extremely tempting to visit the videos that turned up as well, but the sound would no doubt draw unwanted attention. For now, the text and pictures would have to do.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but the next thing he knew, the room was silent and James was flopped down on the bed next to him. "Googling yourself, Michael? Really?"
"I was bored," he replied with a pout. "You've been ignoring me all night."
"You have no one but yourself to blame for that. You looked so furtive I thought for sure you were surfing through my porn collection. I didn't want to intrude, of course." James raised an eyebrow. "So? Any juicy gossip about yourself?"
"Not really, no. My deepest, darkest secrets are safe for now."
"Good. Now, off you go! I need my beauty sleep."
It occurred to Erik that he had no idea where his room was supposed to be, but that wouldn't matter for tonight. He had done his research on this world and its technologies, and he was ready to experience it first hand.
"Good night, sleeping beauty."
***
"If I could have any superpower? I'd like to have a tail. I could hold a lemonade while I'm on the computer."
Another day, another interviewer asking the exact same question. He gave the same answer he'd carefully rehearsed and pretended to look attentive while waiting for the interview to be over.
He supposed that he could have gone for a more ambitious power. Telepathy had its obvious advantages, or he wouldn't have bothered recruiting Emma for his cause. It could be blocked with technology though, and Erik doubted that he had the disposition or patience to be bombarded with the inane thoughts of everyone around him without going into a homicidal rage. Since he formed the Brotherhood, he'd also recruited a variety of mutants, all with powers that were useful in one way or another. Still, none could compare with the ability to reach out and feel the absolute control he had over every metallic molecule in a room. And for some reason, it was apparently 'boring' or 'unfashionable' to answer the question with his own power. In the end, it was Azazel who gave him inspiration for his answer. His tail wasn't often the object of attention - that was his teleportation ability - but more than once, Erik had caught himself surprised by how that simple extension of Azazel's body was downright convenient. A tail would be an innocuous and reasonable answer, Erik had decided. It didn't carry with it connotations of destruction that many of the Brotherhood's mutants' powers did, nor any obvious downsides or ethical dilemmas like telepathy.
Lost in thought, Erik didn't notice when James sat down next to him after another gruelling day of press. "A tail to help with your new Internet addiction? That's what you're going to keep claiming is your dream superpower?"
"What's wrong with wanting a tail? At least my wish isn't to go around groping people, Amoré."
"Hey now, Amoré is a matchmaker, not a pervert! I would just lightly touch someone, like this..." James brushed his hand over Erik's arm with a wicked grin as Erik suppressed a shiver. "And then I would tap their soulmate's shoulder, they would turn to each other and it would be love at first sight!"
"How would you even know that they're soulmates?" he grumped.
"My... x-ray love vision?"
"You're ridiculous."
"Seriously though, what would your mutant name even be? Tail-O?"
"James, I'm going to stop talking to you and walk away now."
"I'm just saying. Our superhero team needs to have more compatible powers. Amoré is out there spreading the love, while you sit around in front of your computer sipping lemonade?"
Erik sighed. "I'll see you tomorrow, James."
It wasn't that Erik had nothing better to do than capitulate to the shameless whining of a Scottish actor who's too cheeky and too charming for his own good. It was just that James had a rather distracting habit of becoming incredibly tactile when there was something he wanted, invading Erik's personal space as though he belonged there. And Erik shouldn't care, shouldn't be affected, shouldn't respond or lean into that warm touch. Then James would look at him with the same bright blue eyes that still held the light of happiness, a look that he hadn't seen on Charles in far too long, and Erik would want nothing more than to pretend for a few moments longer.
"I'd like to fly. That should be a lot of fun, I'd imagine," Erik answered when the question was posed to him again in the next city.
"If I made you fall in love with me though, you could just fly me anywhere I wanted."
He hid his sharp intake of breath with a laugh. James had a talent for catching him off-guard. "That's true. Exactly."
The rest of the interview passed in a blur. When James tried to stop him afterwards, he mumbled something and shoved his way past the other man. How did he go from leading a resistance of mutants against human oppression to speaking on television about spraying love all over the universe? Sometimes he feared that he was getting too deep in-character.
"Michael! Wait!"
Erik pretended not to hear.
"Wow. Just in time!" Slightly out of breath, James squeezed himself into the backseat of the cab with Erik.
"I'm not headed back to the hotel, James."
"I know. Meeting up with Bryan and Matthew to talk sequels, right?"
"Right." Erik forced himself to smile. In hindsight, he should have anticipated this. It hardly made sense not to invite James to a meeting like that, even if it was informal. He leaned back and closed his eyes. It was somehow fitting that James, who was basically Charles' evil twin, would be the one wildcard for him in this new world, keeping him on his toes as often as Charles had back home.
Erik launched directly into his carefully rehearsed speech as soon as they sat down in the small corner booth in the restaurant. "For the sequel, we should have Magneto and Professor X team up against a dangerous new anti-mutant group. I've been tracking the fan responses on the Internet, and it's all been incredibly positive towards the relationship between the two of them."
"I'm all for amping up the tension between Charles and Erik," agreed James. "It would be interesting to see their conflicting viewpoints in an environment of forced cooperation."
"We might even see Charles coming around to Erik's point of view once he sees what the humans are capable of doing to innocent mutants."
"Well, I don't know about that. Maybe Erik will be the one to join Charles in his cause--"
"And a good evening to you too, gentlemen." Matthew looked amused. "Cutting right to the chase?"
Erik shrugged. "Unless you're interested in our input about box office revenue and the financial feasibility of a sequel?"
"I guess not," laughed Bryan. "So. You two like the idea of Professor X and Magneto teaming up again?"
"Yeah. You know, I don't think those two can so easily sever their ties, and in the end, they both want what's best for mutantkind. They just have slightly different ideas of how to accomplish that. If they had a dangerous enough threat, though, I think they could put aside their differences and work together." Erik kept a careful eye on James to gauge his response.
"Slightly different?" James raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I agree with the rest of it, but the tragedy of their relationship is that these two men have this once-in-a-lifetime connection that they have to put aside for this incredibly fundamental philosophical difference that they have."
"Well, every other adaptation has pretty much run that into the ground, don't you think? This is a reboot, and we can go for something darker and grittier." Erik mentally checked off each buzzword as he said them. "Imagine Charles having a crisis of faith and joining forces with Magneto."
"I'm not sure Charles would--"
"James would do a great job of it too," added Erik quickly, cutting James off. "He has an incredible range, you know. And he would do conflicted and dark very well."
"And then what? They take over the world, and the credits roll?" Matthew spoke up.
"Matthew does have a point," said Bryan. "If those two teamed up for the wrong side, they would simply be too powerful, especially if Charles doesn't have his usual ethics and morals to keep them in check."
"Charles turning to the dark side is probably too dangerous," agreed James, giving Erik a rueful look. "I appreciate the vote of confidence in my acting, Michael, but the comic books probably have the right of it, with Magneto occasionally joining the good guys. There's been a few redemption storylines, right?"
"Oh, so Magneto joining Charles wouldn't be overpowered?" asked Erik snidely. "Look, it's great that Charles has these ideals about peaceful resolutions, but I think it's pretty damned clear how lacking in practicality his entire crusade is--"
"Is that how his school for mutants achieved such great success, then? And how he became one of the most respected and powerful mutants in the world?" James shot back.
"And how has improving mutant acceptance gone for him? He's managed to eliminate all the anti-mutant discrimination in the world?"
"Well, no, but the answer to that isn't joining the Brotherhood. Magneto's a sympathetic figure, but he's still a villain, a killer..."
"Have you ever thought that there would be less deaths if we stopped fighting each other and united against the enemy? If we want to remove humans from power, that sometimes that means getting rid of persistent obstacles. Why should the humans be the ones in charge of the mutants' fates? Mutants are the ones who will be moving the species forward. The assignment of telepaths as judge and jury eliminate mistrials; a powerful mutant is simply a more efficient soldier in times of war; harnessing teleportation has unlimited applications for travel and exploration. Mutants shouldn't be feared and controlled. They should be raised up to positions of power to realize their full potential."
Bryan blinked. "Have you writing the script to the sequel in your spare time, Michael?"
"I was, um, I was just thinking of how things looked from Magneto's point of view." Erik unclenched his fists and smiled awkwardly as he noticed everyone staring at him.
Matthew cleared his throat. "Another round of drinks, everyone? I'm glad you both have such strong opinions about where your characters can go for the sequel, but maybe we should worry about the sequel when things are confirmed with the studio. Now, let's kiss and make up, all right?"
In a testament to his bad mood, Erik barely reacted as James climbed into his lap, though he couldn't quite suppress a shiver when James nibbled at his ear.
"You can't let your anger consume you like this, Erik," whispered James, his breath hot against Erik's skin. "You lost more than just a friend on the beach that day. Do you really never wonder what could have been?"
Before he could react, he felt the warm press of James' lips against his own and all coherent thought fled his mind. Tentatively, Erik ran his tongue over those soft, lush lips as he had so often imagined doing. You taste good, he wanted to say, but the only sound that came out was a low moan. James responded by parting his lips, allowing Erik to gently push his tongue into his mouth. Sighing, Erik threaded his hands through James' hair, relishing every sensation thrumming through his body. This was wrong, so very wrong because Charles would never want this with Erik - why am I torturing myself this can never be this isn't real - but Erik couldn't bring himself to stop because in that moment, he was sure that there was nothing else he could want in this world except the feel of the other man in his arms.
When they finally pulled apart, Bryan and Matthew were both pretending to be fascinated by the ceiling. Erik coughed and shoved James aside, still breathing heavily. He took some solace in the fact that James' face was flushed an attractive shade of red as well.
"Well. Let's hope this doesn't end up on the front page of the tabloids tomorrow," said Matthew with a nervous laugh.
"Too dark for pictures, I'm pretty sure," said Bryan helpfully.
"Time to go, I think," said James, all but dragging Erik outside with him.
When they were alone, Erik nudged James. "You called me Erik."
James shrugged, keeping his eyes on the ground. "Yeah. I've suspected ever since I checked my search history and saw the sites you looked up."
"And here I thought I'd been doing a great job until tonight."
"I probably should have told you earlier, but, well. I thought you would be less scary if you still had to pretend to be Michael," admitted James sheepishly.
Erik chuckled. They walked on in a companionable silence.
"You know, I have wondered. I wonder every day," Erik said quietly.
"Not... not about the kissing," he clarified, seeing the look on James' face. "I mean, I think about that, but Charles doesn't - he likes women - so I don't... there's no point." He let out a noise of frustration. "I just wish we were still friends."
"I'm sure he still considers you to be a friend, Erik."
Erik laughed. "I betrayed his trust, crippled him, and stole away his sister before abandoning him on that beach. And since then, the Brotherhood has only worked against him and his students." He shook his head. "Charles is a good man, but he's not a saint. I am no longer a friend of his. And if I want my cause to succeed, I should not consider him a friend of mine either."
"You said yourself that it's not so easy to sever your ties with him."
Erik briefly considered punching James out for using his own words against him now that he no longer had to pretend to be Michael. He sighed unhappily, giving up the idea as quickly as it had come to him. For better or worse, the best course of action was making James an ally, especially considering his lack of other options.
"Do you know what I was doing the night I ended up being transported to your world?"
"I probably shouldn't answer that with something dirty, should I?"
Erik ignored the innuendo. "I was tracking down a mutant who was rumoured have the powers to manipulate time."
"Like time travel?"
"It wasn't too clear from what the information we gathered. There were some instances of people losing time around her, but she is still very young. No one knew the full extent of her powers."
James' eyes widened. "You were hoping that she could though."
"I would be lying if I said that I have no regrets over the things I've done."
"So you ended up here because you wanted to change the past, and now you're trying to influence the future?"
"I'm an ambitious man, James. And if you would help out, I could succeed on that second count."
James looked at him thoughtfully. "You know, there's a theory about parallel universes that says there's a new reality spawned every time a decision made. An almost infinite number of realities to reflect every possible decision. In our world, none of the incarnations of you and Charles got past their differences, so I don't think we can make a movie where that happens without sending the comic book fans into a frenzy. That's the only reason I disagreed with you earlier." James took a deep breath. "But what's to say that your world is constrained by what we decide to write here? Maybe what influences the writers are only subconscious glimpses of one version of your reality. If you want Charles by your side again, maybe you can make that happen for yourself."
"So I should renounce my evil ways? Crawl back to Charles and beg his forgiveness?" Erik felt that familiar rush of anger bubbling up again.
"Erik." James grabbed his wrist and stopped him in his tracks. "Do you know why I kissed you tonight?"
And suddenly, James was too close and memories of their earlier kiss flooded through his mind. He pulled back and threw off James' hand as though he was burned. "How should I know? Because you're evil and have been trying to kill me with sexual frustration these past few weeks?"
"No!" James looked like he wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry. "God, you're ridiculous. No. It's because if it's true that what we did here was a reflection of your world, or if we influenced your world in any way... then you should know that the way I played Charles... I played him as a man who loved you deeply. Who was in love with you."
Erik froze.
"I just thought you should have that information before you made your decision."
***
If Michael's life were a movie, this would be the part where the inspirational music from the soundtrack started while a series of endearing clips of his training played in slow motion. Unfortunately, despite being literally in a movie world, he was currently sitting on the grass, buried under a pile of small coins. Apparently, the universe did not see it fit to allow him the luxury of dignity.
"On the bright side, I'm fairly sure there's no one in the mansion who still thinks you're Erik now," said an entirely too cheerful Charlies Xavier. The rest of the team had stayed at a careful distance from him, which Michael had initially put down to their fear of Magneto and men looking suspiciously like Magneto. Given their current state of giggling and hysterical laughter, though, Michael suspected it was more that they just didn't want to get hit by any of the coins. This was all Charles Xavier's fault.
Scowling, he gave Charles his best menacing death glare, before remembering that this was a guy who spent much of the past few months making goo-goo eyes at Magneto. Right. Not going to intimidate this guy.
An amused chuckle sounded in the back of his mind. That's not precisely how I would have described my interactions with Erik.
Michael raised one eyebrow at Charles and projected as many scenes as he could remember where he and James conspired to add a little extra subtext. He smirked in satisfaction when Charles proceeded to blush a very pretty shade of red. Michael: 1, Charles and the X-Men: 17.
Charles cleared his throat. "Why don't we start from the beginning, then."
"This is hopeless," he grumbled as he began to levitate the coins one by one again. "I have no idea how he managed to stop all these missiles. After too many coins, I just lose track and it all goes to hell! And no, finding the point between rage and serenity isn't really helping me right now."
"I wish you were comfortable enough to let me further in your mind," said Charles, turning the full power of his puppy dog eyes on Michael. "I've spent enough time in Erik's mind that I could try and show you the techniques he used to control his power."
Michael sighed. It wasn't really that he had any embarrassing secrets that he was hiding from Charles. He had no problems letting the telepath skim the surface of his thoughts whenever he pleased. It was just that with so much knowledge about Charles and Erik's future (potential futures?), he couldn't help but worry about somehow destroying the space-time continuum by letting Charles find out about it.
I think the universe is made of stronger stuff than that, Michael.
Not a fan of the Butterfly Effect?
You need to learn to use your powers, Michael. We don't know how long you'll be staying here, and you can only stall the Brotherhood for so long before someone comes to find you. You may have to go back with them if worse comes to worst.
Michael winced at the thought of having to impersonate Erik in the middle of a group of highly dangerous mutants. You do know that I'm not actually a superhero, right? I only play one on TV.
Charles put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I will search for the mutant who brought you here with Cerebro again tonight. Our best hope is still to have this situation fixed before you're forced to return to the Brotherhood. In the meantime, however..."
"All right, fine. Do your little fingering trick, and let's see if I can't manage something more impressive than lifting a bunch of coins. With any luck, I can smack Sean in the face with something for all the laughing he's doing."
"That's the spirit!" Charles laughed. "Are you ready?"
"Yes." Michael closed his eyes and waited. He felt slight tingling feeling travelling up the back of his neck, though he knew that no one was touching him.
Going into your memories will feel slightly different than what we do to communicate now. It will be a bit more visual, and it may trigger your other senses as well.
It tickles.
Just relax.
Michael's rebellious mind chose that moment to call up an inappropriate parallel to a blushing virgin being deflowered. Charles' eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. Michael fought the wave of embarrasment that washed over him, because really, he can't be the only person who's thought of sex around Charles considering the number of teenagers the man had running around the mansion. And if you really thought about it, the subtext was rather strong for this, wasn't it?
Charles continued to look at him like a deer stuck in headlights.
I blame James for this. It's all the jokes about fingering, bending over, and penetration that he liked to make during this scene.
Michael. If we're going to continue with this, I'm afraid you're going to have to stop conjuring up these images. I am not a prude, of course, but these are... quite vivid.
Oh. I probably can't blame James for that. Michael gave a helpless shrug. Sorry, Charles. I recently came off filming a new movie that's a bit on the explicit side. Some of the stuff we did for the cameras were things I hadn't even heard of myself.
As memories of his time on Shame popped up in his mind, Charles had a sudden coughing fit, his face becoming even redder. If this wasn't so amusing, and let's be honest, if Michael had a conscience about teasing adorable professors who looked like his best friend, he'd probably feel bad about it. Maybe. Michael often forgot that not everyone was comfortable with nudity, and of course someone brought up in the 60s would have a different set of sensibilities altogether. He had never been shy, though. One of his first paying jobs had been a commercial where he spent the entire time naked. And well, his latest movie rather spoke for itself as far as his lack of inhibitions went.
Still, Charles' reaction surprised him a little. He could see Erik being a bit of a stick in the mud -- His mind stopped and honed in on that thought. Erik. My identical twin. Charles' object of lust, performing depraved and pornographic acts in my memories. No wonder he was blushing!
I can still hear you, Michael. Charles' mental voice sounded sullen.
Enjoy the show, Charles? He started laughing. How did he get to this point? Magically transported to a movie universe where he was now making a telepath blush with dirty images? This was the most ludicrous thing that had ever happened to him. And at once, he felt as though a weight was lifted off his shoulders. A sudden clarity came to him and every piece of metal in the area seemed to call out his name. Keeping track of them was trivial now and still grinning, he levitated all the coins and arranged them into formations that spelled out rude words.
"Well, I'm glad my misery and sexual frustration has helped you focus your powers, Michael," said Charles, apparently taking this opportunity to beat a dignified retreat from Michael's mind.
"Schadenfreude, my friend. I am half-German, after all." Michael looked thoughtfully at Charles, then slowly lifted him up with his wheelchair.
"Is this a roundabout way of saying that you want me out of your sight, Michael?" shouted Charles as he was lifted higher and higher off the ground.
"If you miss me, you just have to say so!" It took his concentration off moving the coins, but he was able to fly up to join Charles, relishing the look of surprise on the other man's face.
"Remarkable. You're picking up on your powers very quickly."
They spent the rest of the day exploring the limits to his powers. Michael recalled several tricks that Magneto could do in the comics that made Charles frown at him.
"Best not to test out if you can shift the earth's axis or cause natural disasters, Michael." Charles had said dryly.
They did test out some of the less destructive theories, though. Manipulating the natural iron content in blood didn't work, at which Charles sighed in relief. He tried to read Charles' mind by 'reading' the brainwaves sent out, but he couldn't grasp any concrete thoughts. Once the more outlandish theores were tested, they went back to practicing his control and his range.
At one point, Michael wondered if it was a bit unethical that Charles was essentially researching Erik's abilities - and well, they were still technically enemies, weren't they?
"I honestly don't think that I could ever harm him," was Charles' quiet reply.
"Sorry."
The testing felt half-hearted after that, and soon Michael made an excuse and went to bed, emotionally and physically exhausted.
"You'll be getting some rest soon too, Charles?"
"I will. Just need to one last sweep with Cerebro to try and find that mutant again."
Michael nodded, and padded off to his room for the night. In his dreams, he was standing in front of a full-length mirror outside the mansion where he had been training earlier. His reflection was snarling at him, eyes red with rage. He wanted to turn away, wanted to run, but he was frozen in place. His scream was choked off as his reflection reached through the mirror for his neck. The mirror cracked into a million pieces and he sat up with a gasp.
Part 2