After Midnight

Just a bit of fluff, written out of a mood. Based on an idea that popped into my mind at the office today. Yes, even at work I only think of fanfics.

So, this one's another CharlesXErik-story, placed during X-Men: First Class.

I'm currently writing on a veeeeery long Cherik one-shot, which is rated M for a very good reason. I just had the urge to write something less perverted for a change, so here we go. Stay tuned for the other story, though ;)

Disclaimer: Nothing serious this time. Don't read if you don't like the implication of a maleXmale-pairing.

Charles stared at the ceiling of his bedroom. It was well past midnight and he was restless. His eyelids were heavy and his eyes burned with every second he held them open, but he knew he wouldn't fall asleep even if he closed them. That hadn't worked for the past hours or so. The telepath didn't know how long he had laid in his bed like this and totally lost track of the time passing by.

Insomnia had never been a problem for him – he always just fell into bed and was asleep easily within the following minutes. It was tedious to stay awake, with nothing to do and nothing to wait for, except the sunrise. Which would just bring him a day he would spend entirely dead tired. He inhaled and sighed deeply.

Charles was bored, and very much so. Stand up and read a book? No, his eyes were too tired. Get a glass of milk in the kitchen? Too lazy to walk down the stairs from his bedroom on the first floor. Plus, he'd be more awake than before, with or without milk. Plus, he might wake someone else, and that was the least he wanted to do.

With another sigh, he let his tired eyes fall shut and his mind wander through the mansion. Even judged by the sound of thoughts, it was silent. There wasn't anything to be heard except a quiet hum, created by the flying thoughts that were typically those occuring while dreaming. Reading dreams was no fun, Charles had already noticed a long time ago. They were often very incoherent and made no sense, and a few of the sleeping persons he actually had watched had seemed bothered by his presence in their minds. Somehow they could feel him.

As Charles was finished with his little telepathic check through the youngster's rooms, reaching the library, he found a mind that was thinking surprisingly loud and clear. Very much not asleep. Did Hank pull an all-nighter? Or was one of the others searching for anything? But in the library, at this late hour? No, it made no sense. He had just checked, he reminded himself silently, and they were all in their beds. Could it be – a picklock? He squirmed in shock.

The telepath focused on the presence and immediately exhaled the breath he had been holding unintentionally, deeply relieved. It was Erik.

Well, at least he now had something he could do.

Charles slipped out of the sheets and put on his dressing gown. He left his room silently to cross the empty hallway, heading towards the library at the other side of the building. Knocking softly at the wooden door, and opening it without waiting for an answer after a few seconds, he poked his head through the door frame.

Erik sat in his favorite wingback chair, also only dressed in his bath robe, legs crossed and holding a book in his lap and a glass of scotch in his other hand. Green eyes looked surprised as they met Charles', who shot him a small smile.

„Mind if I join you? I couldn't sleep," the telepath asked his friend.

Erik just shook his head warily. „Neither could I."

He put the book aside and got to his feet to stride across the room. Opening the door of an old cabinet, he took out another round drinking glass and poured some scotch for Charles.

The latter had entered the room and shut the door in the meantime. The telepath watched as Erik let himself fall onto the couch lazily, one elbow prepped up on the back rest, offering the glass to him. Charles quickly closed the distance between them with a few steps and accepted the drink gratefully. After taking a good mouthful and enjoying the slightly burning sensation the alcohol left in his mouth, he took his seat beside Erik. Normally, he would have chosen the place opposite of him and set up the chess board, but his mind refused to work in the middle of the night anyway.

„You actually pulled out the good stuff," Charles commented after another short sip of the scotch.

Erik just nodded slowly, seemingly just as tired as Charles felt.

„And you read in this dim light? By god, Erik, you're gonna ruin your eyes."

„I got used to it," the metalbender responded, his voice low.

Charles' eyes flinched away from the fireplace to look at his friend. „Are you coming here often when you can't sleep? Sounds like that happens frequently."

„Yes, I do. It's just the most comfortable room to wait for the morning. I know when I can't fall asleep immediately, I won't until the next morning," he scratched the back of his head with his prepped-up hand and yawned. His gaze was still darting sideways, and as Charles followed it, he noticed that the couch was positioned perfectly towards the east window. Watching the sun rise would look amazing from here.

Erik had reached out for his glass of scotch and held it towards Charles. The telepath raised his as well, clinking them and emptying it with the next gulp. Silence spread between them, but it was comfortable and pleasant. After putting his empty glass back on the table, Charles stretched his legs and leaned back.

Erik's presence was soothing, somehow. The fire was cracking in the fireplace and its warmth, combined with its dim, red light that filled the room, made him sleepy once again. As his eyes had fallen shut, Charles let his head drop to the side, where it came to rest on Erik's shoulder. He could hear the fellow mutant's steady breathing, his chest raising and falling regularly, and the calming effects thereof. His limbs felt too heavy to move them ever again.

The warmth around his shoulder and head increased when the telepath suddenly felt the weight of Erik's head against his own. If his eyelids weren't so incredibly tired, he would have glimpsed upwards to see if Erik's eyes were closed as well. The rhythm of the other one's breathing changed and became slower and slower. The arm Erik had prepped on the back rest had fallen down, coincidentally curling around Charles' shoulders now. He felt cozy and warm, wrapped in Erik's arm like this.

And so Charles felt how he drifted off into the silent humming of dreams. Erik truly was the best sleeping pill ever to be invented.

And that's it. Please review if you liked it – and hope for another boring day at work for me. Maybe I'll have some more fluffy ideas. :)