Erik woke with something soft nuzzling his shoulder and upper arm. A quick twist of his head to the right confirmed his visitor's identity. Soft, dark hair... Charles was tentatively curled up to his side, his head snuggled against Erik's shoulder. He was breathing softly through his open mouth, and looking even more boyish in sleep, despite the faint traces of stubble.

Charles, what the hell?

But even in his mind, it seemed more like a grumble than genuine annoyance... until he caught a whiff of Charles' breath as he exhaled. It carried the sweet, unmistakable scent of his friend's favorite alcohol.

"Charles!" he barked out, sternly.

"Wha-wha...? Huh?" Charles spluttered, jerking awake and erratically upright, rubbing furiously at his eyes and face with both his fists. Erik watched him narrowly, nearly bursting with impatience but restraining himself for the time being... if he played this right, he could guilt Charles into an apology. Damned if he was going to let the kid charm himself out of this one.

Charles was now blinking heavy-lidded, barely-alert blue eyes at him in what Erik assumed was an attempt to recognize his face. "Ah, Erik..." he managed, with a weak, relieved chuckle. "You frightened me."

Erik's scowl deepened, enhancing the many creases on his face as he tried to keep his eyes from drifting down to Charles' torso. "Obviously I haven't frightened you enough," he observed. "You still seem to think I'm your teddy bear or something."

For the first time, Charles' eyes widened in some semblance of alertness, and he flushed, perhaps for the first time realizing the situation he was in. "I-I... I apologize, Erik, truly I do. I was-"

"Drunk?" Erik sneered, unwilling to let him have the upper hand in this conversation. "Is that the word you're looking for? Yes, I know you were, my darling Charles. That's all you ever are, if you'll pardon my saying so."

A hurt expression manifested on Charles' face, his mouth dropping halfway open in shock. "Erik..." he began, in an attempt to quell the other man's anger.

But Erik was having none of it. "No," he growled back. "If you really cared about me, you wouldn't go out and drink without so much as telling anyone... especially downtown! It's dangerous! You could get... I don't know, kidnapped or some shit! ...And don't say you told somebody, because I know you didn't. You have this crazy idea in your head that nobody can see your weaknesses or the world goes 'boom.' Oh yeah, you can peek into everybody else's mind as much as you want, but when it comes to anybody even glancing into yours, you can't stand the idea! It's infuriating, and it's unfair!"

He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the wounded expression the Charles' face and knowing that it was true, all of it, and needed to be said. And nobody else will say it but me...

"You can't-" His voice trembled despite himself. "You can't keep taking, Charles... you can't keep taking and expect not to have to give, do you understand?"

He opened his eyes and found Charles sitting there, looking at him with the greatest sorrow that Erik had ever seen, as only he had the capacity to do. His blue eyes were incredibly light and shone with unshed tears. He was biting down on his lip, a nervous habit he had, and the spot where his teeth were digging in was quickly reddening. Despite Charles' tousled hair and disheveled appearance, it was impossible not to feel a little twinge grip his heart.

"My friend..." Charles looked at him steadily, something that Erik could only compare to the call of metal to magnet, sucking him in so deeply that he couldn't have looked away if he'd wanted to...and why would he want to? Charles is so beautiful... "I am so sorry. I didn't realize... I should have known..." His dark lashes fluttered before two tears trickled so quickly down the side of his face Erik almost didn't see them.

"I didn't know I was hurting you," Charles managed. "I would never, never have done that on purpose. Do you hear me? Never..." This he whispered.

And Erik couldn't take it anymore.

He sat up, Charles' clothes rolling off off his chest and into his lap, and clutched Charles to him. "I'm sorry too," he whispered, his voice raspy, clenching his eyes shut. His throat felt constricted. "I didn't want to do it, I just had to make you see..." He pressed his face into Erik's soft, wavy hair, unable to continue.

Charles' hands rubbed soothingly up and down his back. "Yes, yes, I know... it's okay, Erik, it's okay. I know."

Sometime later, when they were lying down again, Erik heard Charles' voice saying, "Thank you."

He laughed when he felt Charles' lips press a kiss against his cheek. "...Thank you?" he repeated, sleepily. "For what, Charles?"

Using his nose, Charles nuzzled down the length of his neck before replying, "For being strong enough to tell me that. For not being afraid to hurt me. People think that just because I'm filled with the noise of all these minds that I'm fragile... but you didn't treat me that way, and I thank you for it, my friend."

Erik opened his eyes and gazed up at the beautiful young man who hovered over him, his blue eyes worshipful. "You're not fragile, Charles. You're... sensitive." He wriggled deeper down into the bed. "It's different."

The explosion of mirthful laughter from Charles made something stir in him, something warm and comfortable and right, something so close to perfection he literally ached with it. There was nothing wrong, nothing in the world. Except...

There was some kind of lumpy bulge beneath him. After a moment of frowning, he shifted, but to no avail, and finally, just as he was about to sit up and full-on investigate, he felt Charles' hand close around his arm.

"What is it? I can sense you're uncomfortable."

"There's something..." He hesitated, knowing it would sound weird, but tact had never been one of his strong suits, so he plunged on anyway. "...underneath me."

"Underneath you?" Charles wasn't laughing, but he did sound disbelieving. "What do you mean?"

Erik sighed. "Never mind..."

"Oh!" Charles exclaimed, a breathless little giggle escaping him. He really could be so childish sometimes.

Inwardly, Erik rolled his eyes. "What?" he demanded flatly, without opening his eyes.

"Those are my clothes."

"Your clothes?" Erik peeked open, eyeing his companion, who was clad only in his boxers, just as he was. "Well, okay, but why the hell are they underneath me, of all places?" he asked, worming upward and shoving them irritably out from under his backside before lying back down again, hands folded over his stomach.

It wasn't until he realized that Charles was being strangely quiet that he glanced over again. His friend was numbly gathering the clothes into his lap, his expression dead. None of the laughter from before, none of the joy, not even any of the heartbreaking sorrow.

"What is it?" Erik said, quickly, sitting up. "Did I do something?"

Charles looked up, smiling sheepishly. "Oh no, you didn't do anything." But his cheeks were rosy.

"C'mon. If I did, don't spare my feelings. Just tell it like it is."

His grin only grew. "That seems to be your motto, my friend-tell the truth, no matter how dirty it may be." He paused. "I rather like it. Such a relief. Everything you say and do matches up completely with what is in your mind. It's... refreshing." And then he blushed again, as if he thought he had said too much.

Erik cleared his throat. He was having difficultly acting so stern when Charles was just so damn charming that he just wanted to take him up in his arms and kiss him senseless. "That's quite the compliment," he said tenderly, "but I'm not going to let you change the subject that easily. Explain the clothes."

"O-oh." Charles was immediately nervous again. "It's just... well, when I came in last night... I didn't mean to... but as you know, I was intoxicated... so my mental barriers weren't the best at the time, and I sensed your weren't comfortable."

"Huh?" Erik blurted, obviously not understanding.

"Ah, what I mean is," Charles went on, "you were... cold. Shivering. You forgot to put your blankets on, so I covered you." He looked away, breaking eye contact. Funny how he could be so confident when it came to others, but when it came to himself, his own choices...

Erik felt a smile spreading across his face. "You covered me?"

Biting his lip again, Charles nodded.

"With your clothes?" He couldn't help the mocking way it came out. Nor could he help the roaring laughter that followed. "Oh, you really were drunk!" he said when he could speak again. "The brilliant geneticist, 'Professor X', covers me up with his own clothes to keep me warm instead of just using a spare blanket! Charles, that's hilarious."

And Charles was pouting, his reddened lips literally pooched out and his eyes all wide and betrayed. Unfairly, Erik felt as though he had just kicked a puppy and tried to tell himself he hadn't.

"It's not," Charles said briskly, his voice clipped. "Not any more hilarious than the hangover I am currently experiencing and which your obnoxious laughter is not helping to alleviate in the slightest."

"I'm sorry," Erik said, but it came out sounding more like a sneer.

Charles just glared at him.

"...Would you like me to get you a glass of water?"

"If I wanted your shitty glass of water," he sniffed, "I could just tell your mind to go do it and off you'd go." He smiled slyly. "You'd never even know it was me who suggested the idea to you."

Erik only smiled; his heart felt full to bursting with love. "Fortunately, I know you'd never do something like that. You'd feel guilty about it afterward if you did. I know you would."

"You're right," Charles sighed, shoulders slouching in defeat. He yawned without bothering to cover it up, and irrationally, Erik found it adorable.

Adorable? Since when do I even let myself think that word?

"I really just wann' go back to sleep, 'rik."

He smiled. "Sleep then, Charles."

All too willing to oblige, he flopped back onto the bed, tucking a hand under his head. He couldn't resist peering up one last time, however. "Aren't you going to sleep too?" he asked, his voice soft and sweet as a child's.

"Of course I am," Erik responded gently. "If you'll wait a moment."

What is it about him that always makes me feel like he's so much more mature than I am? He continued with these irritable thoughts as Erik bent at the waist, as if he were retrieving something from the floor. Charles didn't much care what he was reaching for; his eyes were riveted on the muscles of his back as they flexed and he thought of how good it felt to run his hands over that skin...

"Close your eyes," Erik said suddenly, startling him.

Blushing because he'd been interrupted in the middle of his slightly lusty thoughts, he obeyed, wanting desperately to read Erik's mind to find out just what he was planning, but resisting. "Erik...?" he asked, when he didn't hear anything.

"Patience, Charles. Isn't that what you always say?"

Now he was fuming. He hated having his own lines used against him. All his anger was forgotten, however, once he felt something being spread over his chest. He opened his mouth to ask what it was, but Erik merely shushed him. He felt something else being placed over him, something heavy...

Erik's jacket! he realized. It was the leather one he wore frequently, and smelled of him... infused with tobacco and a hint of sweat and that musky scent he always carried that filled his nostrils. He could never quite figure out what it was, but he loved it.

"You can open your eyes now," Erik said, voice silky.

Charles did so, immediately glancing down at his chest. Sure enough, Erik's jacket was tucked around him, and underneath that rested the green turtleneck he'd been wearing yesterday. He was sure he was gaping. The expression on Erik's face was smug, his lips twisted up slightly, his hazel eyes dancing. Before he knew what was happening, his lips were being captured by Erik's own, and he moaned into the kiss before Erik pulled away, creating a loud sucking noise.

"Thank you..." Erik murmured, almost inaudibly, his fingertips brushing Charles' arm, moving up to cup the side of his face. "Thank you, Charles."

"F-for what?" he asked, breathlessly.

"For caring about me. For treating me like I'm fragile. Because I am, Charles. Without you, I... I'd break. I don't know how I've been without you all my life. I don't know what I would do without-" He broke off, turning away as he fought off tears for the second time.

God, I am so weak, so very very weak... I hate myself. Why do I have to be like this? Why must I have this weakness in me?

...You're not weak. You're hurt. It's different, and it's okay. It's okay to feel pain. It's okay to let yourself cry, my friend. I do it all the time. I see so much pain... I can't help it. You're the same way, Erik.

Charles. Sitting up now, rubbing his back. A comforting presence in his mind and against his skin, the rich, encouraging voice he so loved, soothing him, urging him.

Calm your mind, dear friend... Calm your mind.

A few shaky, gasping breaths and he was okay again, enough to smile crookedly down at Charles, who merely pulled him down to the bed. Exhausted, Erik gave in and lay down on his side, not minding in the least this time when Charles snuggled up against his back, spooning him, resting his chin in the crook of his neck and sighing happily in his ear.

"See?" he whispered. "There are better ways to fight it, Erik. Better ways than anger. We can be the better men, even if it's hard."

Erik grunted. "...You'll always be the better man to me."

Charles just pressed a kiss into his friend's shoulderblade and smiled helplessly... In his way, Erik had just told him "I love you."

They said nothing more until sleep came and covered them both.

Prompt source: 1stclass-kink[.]/4418[.]html?thread=6142530#t6142530
Covered at Livejournal: quaint-camera[.]livejournal[.]com/1538[.]html
Covered at Archive of Our Own: archiveofourown[.]org/works/218215/chapters/328216