X-Men: First Class Fanfiction: White Knight to E3 [ch.1]
White Knight to E3.
Summary: Erik/Charles. They’d lived together their entire lives and didn’t know the other was a leader of opposing mutant revolutions. (Kind of influenced by Mr & Mrs Smith.) Modern AU.
A/N: Charles’ powers made it the hardest thing to write him being completely ignorant of Erik. So I hope that you allow the concessions I made with helmet back story. I figured the type of metal in the helmet would cause psychic disturbance in small amounts, whereas the large amounts cause blocking/shielding. IDK. I’ve given too much thought to this as it is.
҉
Charles was talking to the President about the possibilities of mutant registration when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He waited until the President was distracted by signing several papers brought in by one of his secretaries before looking at the message.
Pasta for dinner?
A smile spread across his face and he replied quickly, I’ll bring the wine. If Erik was cooking, they’d need a lot of it.
When the President looked at Charles-sorry, here he was known as Professor X-the smile was all gone and he was entirely business once more.
“Mutation does not make us any less human, Mr President,” he said, looking and sounding every bit as wise as Professor X should have. “It would do you well not to treat us as such.”
As he spoke, Charles thought of the future of humanity and mutantkind, even as a very small part of him was thinking fondly of Erik back home and of the pasta that would surely be burnt. His roommate was an excellent mechanic, but an awful cook.
҉
The table was setting itself, metal cutlery floating down into place. A knife was chopping onions while the sauce was being stirred by a metal ladle. From the sink, pasta was being strained, the hiss of hot water and steam discernable even from where Erik was in the study. With an absentminded flick of the wrist, he turned on the stereo, noticing that Charles had changed the music once again to some instrumental piece-a quartet of strings he vaguely recognised.
Erik enjoyed being home alone. Charles was wonderful company, but there was something rather freeing about being able to use his powers without hiding it; allowing himself to respond to the metal singing around him always helped him relax. He thought of Magneto, of the helmet hiding safely behind a hidden adamantium safe and how he always spread the message of mutant freedom.
Of course, he had been Magneto for many years, but he had been Erik longer than that. He didn’t start out with the intention of a double life, but things just happened that way.
Now, here he was, pretending to be human because he was afraid that saying anything otherwise would scare his friend away. He saw the irony of his situation.
Although he was merely human, Charles was an extraordinary one. He had told Erik he once wanted to be become a geneticist. Perhaps things would be easier if he had pursued that career-although in all fairness he was now a well renowned psychiatrist.
He wondered how Charles would react if Erik’s face plastered the front pages declaring him as Magneto. Thankfully he didn’t need to wear his helmet when he was home - that would have been a dead giveaway. Absentmindedly, he touched his piercings, the ones he had worn since he was a teenager. Funnily enough he had psychic protection for years with those, but the metal helmet shielded him best for those close encounters with the blasted X-Men.
The latest print of the local newspaper was spread before him, the feature article about the possible mutant round-up. It was inevitable that humans would think like this. Throughout history there had been occurrences where those who were different where rounded up and branded, only to be excluded and treated like animals-
Shit, was that the smoke alarm? Erik suddenly realised, the piercing beeps rousing him from his thoughts. Then he smelled something burning and he could only think, Not again.
҉
“If I had a penny for every time-”
“Shut up, Charles.”
“Are you sure you know how to use the stove?”
“As I said before, shut up.”
“Hurry up and move a piece then.”
“Chess requires an art of patience.”
“You’ve been glaring at the board for the last seven minutes.”
“Fine. Knight to E3.”
“Excellent move, Erik. I move my queen and-checkmate.”
“Don’t say a word, Charles.”
“Wasn’t planning on it, my friend.”
҉
Work wasn’t a topic that Charles and Erik spoke of often in detail. They both knew the bare basics of what the other did, the cover stories-Charles was a psychiatrist and Erik was a mechanic-the lies gentle twisted embellishments on the truth. Occasionally they’d make a general remark about their work-
“Today was awful. I’ve got a splitting headache.”
“I know what you mean. Check out the burns on my fingers.”
“What happened?”
“Car engines. Don’t worry about the details.”
-but they’d never ever admit to the reality of their jobs. Instead they spoke of many things, favouring topics like politics, advancements in medicine and engineering, or their thoughts on certain books or philosophers. They were able to talk without consequence for hours, finding happiness merely by being in each other’s company.
Funnily enough, despite how much it was in the media, the topic of mutant rights never really came up between them. They had gotten very close several times over the passing years with the allusions of discourse over civil rights and whatnot, but neither of them seemed comfortable enough to break the barrier.
They also both avoided the topic of family, unless they were incredibly drunk. One too many shots of tequila allowed Erik to confess that his mother had been murdered when he was young-though he wouldn’t say how or why. Charles had sobered very quickly and made the connection between that incident and the small totem Erik always carried around, a small coin.
(“It was my fault,” Erik had said, and Charles had insisted that it couldn’t have been. Even though he knew nothing of what happened, Charles could see how much Erik missed his mother.)
There was also the occasion when Charles was so completely out of sorts, drunkenly leaning on Erik the entire walk home, that he admitted quietly certain stories of an abusive childhood and something about losing a sister.
In the morning after that, no one had to mention the picture of a smiling blonde girl on Charles’ bedside table to know who the sister was.
(“I could find her, you know,” Charles said over a steaming cup of coffee. “I could find her but I won’t because she deserves better than me.” Though Erik tried, Charles said nothing more and he knew when to stop pressing.)
Erik and Charles knew so much about each other-little details like their favourite food or colour or even their favourite brand and flavour of toothpaste-and despite that they really knew nothing at all. This, in the end, was perfectly okay because they both never acknowledged that ignorance, instead preferring one friendship in their life that was easy.
҉
Shutting down his computer, Charles stood and stretched. He yawned so widely he was nearly sure he dislocated his jaw; he’d definitely heard a crick. It was so late it was morning and from the bags under his eyes, his body knew that. However, Erik was awake too, fiddling with some strange, foreign trinket on the coffee table-mechanics and electronics had never been Charles’ strong suit.
“Do you want some-” another yawn “-coffee?” he asked, covering his mouth a heartbeat too late.
“No, thank you,” Erik replied, distracted but still remembering to throw a quick smile in Charles’ direction.
As he pulled out a mug from the cupboards, supposed he could just read Erik’s mind to see what he was working on, but that was a hazy place to delve into. It was always rather clouded, as if someone had cloaked it with gray cobwebs and mist.
The knowledge that Erik was partially unreadable was something he dearly wanted to bring up, but he found he enjoyed it. In fact, it was the initial reason that they have moved in together all those years ago.
The pair had met one another very early on in their lives. They’d found themselves pushed together at the only empty table at an incredibly crowded bar. Charles and Erik easily fell into pleasant conversation when the latter mentioned the need for accommodation.
If it had been anyone else, Charles wasn’t sure what he would have done, but with Erik he offered the spare room in his-admittedly, rather empty-apartment. This had happened years before the real mutant movement, and being unable to read his roommate left Charles unsure of what to say.
Of course, he was rather taken by the seemingly unconscious level of blockade facing him. Over the years, Charles had created several vague theories as to why-a low level mutation acting to naturally defend him, or perhaps all of the inference from the metal in the piercings and tattoos Erik had. His ears and eyebrows were decorated with black metal, whilst a large dark tattoo spread across the back of his neck beneath his hair. Apparently there was metal in the ink as well.
(“Why do you wear so much metal?” Charles had asked once as they played chess.
Erik smiled slyly and said, “Don’t you know iron keeps the demons at bay? They can’t touch it because it’ll burn them.” He laughed heartily at that, before chasing Charles’ last rook off the board.
Charles didn’t know how serious Erik was, so he didn’t pursue it any further. If he remembered correctly, he lost that game.)
Not that it mattered. Well, that was what Charles tried to convince himself. It wouldn’t do probing, invading his privacy; especially when the other wouldn’t realise it. Ignoring the thought wasn’t the best course of action, but it’s the one he chose.
The coffee was hot and bitter, but it smacked him awake again. There were never enough hours in the day for both of his lives.
҉
If either man had ever bothered to hack into each other’s computers-on second thoughts, they wouldn’t even need to break in; they knew each other’s passwords. (Erik knew Charles’ passwords always contained some variation of the word groovy and his birthday, whereas Charles was more than aware of how Erik liked using certain elements from the periodic table with their atomic mass.)
Funny how things worked out; what’s possibly odder than that was how neither ever broke that trust.
Charles’ computer would frequently hold messages like the following:
Xavier,
I’m sending you copies of the Omega-Six outlines. They’re really
rough but ensure a better outcome for mutant rights. If we can
get them passed, we have a real shot at this peaceful future you
want. Though it’s going to be hard to make some of these guys
see sense.
(I never thought I’d say it, but politics is harder than genetics
sometimes.)
- Hank
Erik’s laptop had several more security measures in place-always that little more paranoid than Charles-but he would also get emails from the Brotherhood HQ:
Magneto,
Omega-Six outlines have been successfully retrieved. Security is
really slack sometimes. It’s rather amusing; it’s as if they want
me to steal top secret documents. Though, to be fair, I did end
up killing three of their officers.
Also, Riptide sneezed and destroyed the recreation room. Again.
- Mystique
Then again, perhaps it was for the best that neither of them snooped around.
҉
“Are you off again, Charles?” Erik asked, pausing to open the fridge. He pulled out the orange juice and eyed its contents a bit suspiciously. When seeing nothing was growing inside of it, he shrugged and drank. If it tasted a little off, he decidedly ignored that.
“I have to go see Jean,” Charles reminded him from the hall, adjusting the straps of his messenger bag.
Erik’s eyes flickered over to the calendar on the wall. Today’s date was circled in red and he nodded. Twice a month Charles had to fly out to visit one of his oldest patients. A Jean something-something; Erik never quite got her full name. If it were anyone other than Charles, he might have said that they were doing it for the money-but Charles, no. He had true empathy for other people.
(Admittedly, that empathy was sometimes truly uncanny. But the less said about that, the better.)
Normally, Erik disliked the weekends where Charles was gone. They were rather quiet, but too long for comfort. However, he had things to do as Magneto too, so the timing worked out well.
“I’ll see you later then,” Erik said, closing the fridge with his hip and leaning against it so he could look at Charles. The man always looked faintly anxious when he left, like he was scared the apartment would be in ruins on his return. (Fair enough worry with Erik’s cooking skills, but still.)
Charles caught his eye and his expression softened somewhat. “Yeah, I’ll be back soon. Bye.”
When he left, the door closed with a quiet click that seemed suddenly so, so loud. The kitchen sink dripped loudly, but when Erik tried to shut it off using his powers, he nearly crushed the pipes.
Well. Perhaps it would be best if he went to headquarters immediately instead of destroying the apartment. He wasn’t so sure Charles would forgive him for doing that.
҉
“Hello, Scott,” Charles said as he boarded, stowing away his luggage with the smoothness of years of practise.
“Professor,” Scott acknowledged with a smile, though his attentions were a little distracted as he readied the plane for lift-off. As soon as it stabilised, he added, “Jean’s got an interesting new recruit to show you.”
“I know,” Charles replied with some amusement. “Fighting with him already? That’s hardly like you.”
“Did you scan my mind?” Scott huffed slightly, ignoring the comment.
Charles laughed and said, “I hardly need telepathy to get emails-or pictures. While I normally encourage healthy competition, did you really need to destroy part of the school’s lab?”
There was a telling pause before Scott muttered, “It was Logan’s fault.”
“Was it now?” Charles asked. “We’ll just go and see then.”
“It’s good to have you around, Professor,” Scott said. “The school’s never quite the same without you.”
A twinge of guilt shot through Charles, who thought of all his students, those mutants who’d found themselves outcast merely from being who they were. It wasn’t for much longer he’d truly be able to justify his apartment, especially when the students needed him more.
Part of him fully believed that he could trust his life with Erik-but what about the lives of a few hundred children? Would he put such a burden on his friend’s shoulders? And if Erik couldn’t handle it, would he be able to wipe those memories away?
In all honesty, Charles wasn’t sure if he was capable of doing that to Erik.
(The very small part of Charles that was selfish didn’t want to try either, didn’t want Charles to lose this little luxury of a roommate who was awful at cooking and who kept rearranging the books by year of publication instead of author, who constantly insisted on watching movies in a variety of languages Charles could barely understand, who disliked chocolate for reasons unspoken of but loved strawberry cream, who could always seem to drink Charles under the table, and Erik had a heart of gold, truly-)
Sudden turbulence made the seats shake, forcing Charles out of his thoughts. He straightened up in his seat and forced himself to concentrate. He was Professor X now and he could see his school in the distance.
When the choice had to be made-soon, soon-he would have to choose the students; the peaceful pursuit of equality for mutantkind.
A quiet voice in his mind that sounded oddly like Magneto cackled, Another line between mutant- and humankind, Charles? How hypocritical of your world view.
For a moment, Charles closed his eyes and checked, but he couldn’t sense Magneto. It was just him in his mind at the moment. He wondered since when his conscious sounded like his opposition before deciding it was best to refrain from psychoanalysing himself.
The plane finally touched down and he was swept away by the babble of the students. Even as his heart filled with warmth, he couldn’t quite call it home.
҉
A/N: Instead of being the one shot I wanted it to be, it grew and morphed into a multichaptered fic. Damn it. I have no self control when it comes to writing sometimes.
Anyway, I hope what I’ve written is semi-decent so far. Hmm. This has been too Charles orientated. I’ll put some more Team Magneto Erik in next. Feel free to point out spelling/grammar errors.
[ chapter two coming soon! ]