With Every Piece of You, a x-men: the movie fanfic

TITLE: With Every Piece of You
AUTHOR: Macx
SERIES: Shadowside
RATING: R
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
FEEDBACK: Loved
SUMMARY: Charles overdoes it, really overdoes it, while using Cerebro. Erik wonders just how much survival instinct the other man really has...

Based on the canon-AU described in Surrender to Hope (short version: The Beach happened, but Charles wasn't paralyzed, just badly injured, Erik stayed).

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He didn't have to be a mind-reader to know where Charles was. He actually wasn't a mind-reader, just someone who knew the telepath very well by now. At least his behavior patterns. And his stubborn doggedness.

It said a lot about that he had committed the daily routine to memory, with all its little aberrations now and then.

It spoke clear words that he could pinpoint the wayward mutant with the precision of a heat-seeker.

It shouted at everyone just what they were, who they were.

Erik Lensherr stalked through the quiet mansion, the Xavier Institute, enjoying the silence. The students were all asleep – with probably a few night owls as an exception and the one kid who barely needed an hour of rest every day. The quiet also gave Charles the stupid idea that after a day of teaching, playing parent and handling bureaucracy that gave Erik hives he could just waltz off and subject his mind to more stress.

The elevator button depressed without him touching it and he barely refrained from pushing the doors open faster. When he was finally two storeys underground he unerringly headed for one specific room: Cerebro.

The night lights flared brighter as he came in range of the motion sensors. Behind him, the hallways were plunged into twilight again.

Two months ago Hank had finally gotten the Beta Version of the computer that amplified brainwaves. Cerebro 2.0. McCoy had been proud like a father.

Erik had once called Charles an adorable labrat and he still stood by that. The labrat part. And the adorableness. Part of him grinned like an idiot. It was the part that was content in Charles' presence, could listen to his 'professor' voice all day, took delight in the smiles and gestures and little creases around his eyes and mouth… It was the sappy part he had never known existed. It was the part that laughed from the bottom of his heart and felt free and wanted and needed.

Another part, the vicious, dark and deadly part, growled and reminded him that labrats got hurt.

Charles got hurt.

Just by sitting in this infernal machine that helped him track mutants all over the globe. Erik knew that they needed this edge, that they had to find their kind before others did. Too many mutants had suffered at the hands of mad scientists, the military and even their own families because they were different. But Charles was like a dog with a bone. He was tenacious and wouldn't accept his own limitations.

"Using Cerebro can be extremely dangerous. Without a well-trained, disciplined mind a telepath puts himself at great risk when attempting to use it. This is due to the psychic feedback that users experience when operating Cerebro. As the device greatly enhances natural psychic ability, users who are unprepared for the sheer enormity of this increased psychic input can be quickly and easily overwhelmed, resulting in insanity, coma, permanent brain damage or even death."

Erik flung out his hand and forced the heavy doors open, striding through. McCoy's words, so clinically detached and neutral, echoed in his mind. When he had witnessed Charles' first use of the CIA-built device he hadn't really given it much thought. He had teased him, he had felt a momentary flash of alarm when the smooth features had twisted into a mix of pain-joy-surprise-pain. Later, much later, he had cornered Hank and demanded to know what this entailed.

Now he knew.

He didn't approve.

He actually outright despised Charles' new toy.

If it wouldn't destroy years of work and a very important tool, he would scrap that infernal device with one thought.

Hank was at his usual monitoring station, not the least bit startled by the angry mutant storming in.

"How bad?" Erik demanded.

"You know as well as I do that the Professor is very good at hiding the pain he is in."

Not good. Not good at all.

Erik looked at the monitor, saw Charles in that damned chair with the helmet that looked like some grotesque spider clinging to his head, a web of cables trailing toward the ceiling. His eyes were closed, his face a mask of concentration, and there was a steep line between his eyebrows.

A screen near-by was quickly recording coordinates and saving them on a harddrive. They had come a long way from the first version at the CIA complex. A long, long way. Hank had money at his disposal and resources he had never dreamed of. His brain was probably somersaulting from all the goodies Charles delivered to him. Add to that a mutant by the name of Omar Okina, who everyone just called Double-O, whose ability was to crunch numbers in his brain that surpassed any super-computer known to man and McCoy had no limits.

Then the screen went blank.

Hank hit a few keys and the low hum ceased.

Erik watched as Charles' head fell slightly forward, the steep line between his eyes still there, and he knew what to expect.

"Don't let him in again," he snarled at Hank and the scientist nodded, switching off Cerebro completely. Just in case Charles would attempt a second run.

Erik angrily flung open the doors that led into the spherical room he had helped build, fingers snapping. The helmet rose off Charles' head, slowly and carefully, though he would have loved to fling it away with all the force he could muster. It would have probably destroyed the Brainscanner From Hell..

::Don't::

He snarled, looking into the liquid blue eyes of his partner and lover, reading pain and exhaustion. Charles had pushed his limits once more and they had pushed back.

::I'm fine, Erik::

"The hell you are!" he snapped.

Charles winced, one hand coming up to rub his forehead. The lines of pain deepened. His face looked almost ashen.

"You're melting your brain, Charles! Is it worth it? Is this thing worth brain damage?" he demanded.

Charles pushed the balls of his hands into his eyes, inhaling sharply. His shoulders were tense and Erik could almost see the knots of tendon and muscle.

"Erik…"

Erik took a steadying breath, aware that he was probably blasting at the telepath on a whole different level as well. A telepath whose shields were thin and brittle, who was trying to hide his pain, and who should know better. A telepath who had worked himself into the ground because he was the only one able to use this apparatus. Like a good little labrat…

Charles was a grown man, for god's sake! He taught the risks and limitations of a mutation each and every day! Students were grounded for pulling such stunts!

A wave of protective anger surged through Lensherr and he felt Cerebro tremble.

::Erik, please…::

It was a plea accompanied by a feeble attempt to touch the other mutant without invading his mind. He caught the thin strand of almost-contact, wrapping it around his mind and soul. It should scare him how easy it was to do that, something he wasn't gifted with. It didn't.

Erik reigned in his powers, but the tight control was slipping. Really slipping. A screw popped out of a casing and spun lazily in place. He made a negligent move and it was back in its place.

It got him a thin smile.

Charles pushed up, locking his knees, took one step – and promptly fumbled for support.

"Idiot!" Erik whispered as he caught him.

Another thin smile. Charles was clutching at his arms to keep himself from collapsing in a graceless heap. He was fast approaching a complete shut-down.

"Had to be done."

"No. Not today. Not tomorrow. You're blowing your brains to pieces, Charles! Nothing is worth this! No mutant can be this important! They'll still be there another day, you fucking idiot!"

Xavier screwed his eyes shut, inhaling sharply. Feedback. His already over-sensitized brain getting battered by Erik's spiking rage. He needed Erik, but right now it was hurting him even more. But if he let go, things would get really ugly in that regard. Psychic powers out of control…

Erik sighed and held him tight, resting his chin on the tousled head.

"Sorry," he murmured. "Let's get you out of here and into bed."

Charles clung to him, starting to tremble a little. Erik realized just how bad it had been this time and he knew that he had to talk to McCoy, to Raven, maybe even the others, to keep an eye on Charles. His lover was prone to sacrificing rules when it came to himself. His self-preservation program was running with a few flaws.

Charles muffled a chuckle. ::Not suicidal::

::Let the non-brain-dread people decide that::

It shouldn't be so familiar to get the other man from the basement of the manor into their bed. But it was and it angered Erik more than Charles' insistence that he was still fine.

"You're not. Now shut up about it!"

Charles dredged up a smile, then bit his lips as another wave of pain rolled through his head. Erik opened the door using his abilities, locked it when they were through, and proceeded to get Charles to bed.

Stripped down to his underwear the telepath was finally beneath the sheets, pale, gray at the edges, with lines of pain around his eyes and mouth.

Erik settled beside him, brushing the back of one hand over his temple. "Charles, don't be stubborn," he murmured.

But the stubbornness was in every cell of his body. Mulish, almost.

"You fight a losing battle each time. You need this."

"I'm not a child," came the low reply, tinged with fierce control over something that would soon be uncontrollable. "I've been through this all my life."

"Now you're no longer alone. I told you before, I will tell you again: I don't mind. This is you and me."

The blue eyes opened a crack and Charles turned toward him, seeking physical comfort. Erik wrapped an arm around the slightly trembling man, almost, barely, feeling the headache his partner was in.

"Charles…" he murmured into the dark hair. "Please."

And then it was there. The touch of a strained mind, agony from prolonged use of Cerebro, the anger-annoyance-frustration that he couldn't handle more, the pain that wiped out rational thought at its worst spike, the need to anchor but the stubbornness that told him he shouldn't have to be so dependent.

"You're not," Erik whispered.

Charles drew a shuddering breath. Without Erik there would be a week of migraines, of pain, of misery.

"That's why I'm your anchor, my friend."

But anchoring meant pain for Erik.

"No."

Charles' hands clenched into his black shirt, clawing at the skin underneath. He buried his head against the other man's chest, still fighting.

"You can't win this one, Charles."

But he could try.

"Losing battle, hon."

That last one stopped all thought and for a moment Charles' confusion overrode the mulishness. The strained shields cracked more, then fell slowly to pieces.

Erik grinned triumphantly as he ploughed forward and grabbed the telepath's anchor line in his head. He had done it often before and it should frighten him how easily he could do it, but it didn't. Three years and counting. It felt like he had been with Charles all his life.

His new life.

After Shaw, when he had finally allowed himself to live…

::Did you just call me 'hon'?::

Yes, there was fight left. A different kind of fight, but Erik enjoyed it. Sharp and angry and confused and rising like a tidal wave for a brief moment. Then the wave collapsed in the face of Erik's mirth and laughter.

::You're impossible!::

He kissed his lover's head and felt the anchor firmly in his mind, the echoes of misery and pain from Charles' use of Cerebro.

"Get some rest," he murmured into the ear closest to him. "And then we talk about taking better care of yourself."

Charles mumbled something, already sliding off. Erik smiled a little, running long fingers through the messy hair, feeling his own head pound to the rhythm of his heart. Painkillers would have no effect, he knew. This was coming from Charles.

He didn't mind. He had had worse. It was not like a real headache, more like a memory of something not his own.

He knew what an anchor meant and to get this much, his lover was feeling really, really bad. This one had been ugly and nasty and it could have been prevented. They would have to talk about safety measures, restriction and self-control. Charles was like a kid with a new toy when it came to Cerebro and he forgot about what he taught his children each and every day.

"Yes, we've got to talk," he murmured, resting his chin on the dark head, feeling his eyes slide shut. "Really, really talk."

Charles woke, feeling marginally better than the night before, though his head seemed to resemble a cotton ball filled with molasses. Thinking required an effort and movement was restricted to the bare necessities.

Speaking of which…

He lurched out of bed, nearly ending up flat on his nose, and was not really that surprised to feel broad, strong hands support him.

"Idiot."

In his head it translated into something else. Because every time Erik said it, the emotions and surface thoughts said otherwise. He smiled, catching fleeting thoughts of 'I'll strangle him', '…kicking his ass…' and '…stupid, brainless, geeky little shit…'.

It only had him smile more.

Not that it soothed Erik's mood. It worsened it.

"Bathroom?" Charles finally managed, clinging to his support.

"Bedpan," came the level reply.

::No!::

The tight grin was both amused and annoyed, with a warning that Erik meant it should Charles be unable to handle the trip.

Getting to the bathroom was an effort and he wasn't keen on helping hands while standing in front of the toilet.

"Erik, really," he muttered, trying to free himself.

The other mutant snorted and removed his balancing hands, making Charles wobble. But stubbornness fought logic and won. In his mind, the terms of endearment grew louder. Erik was as pissed-off as they came.

He felt a wave of warmth.

Well, not any terms of endearment as a thesaurus or dictionary might describe as such. But to him, they were.

"You make a grumpy nurse, my friend," he told the hovering man who was dressed in his habitual black, appearing dark and imposing.

The frown and the cold, hard expression in his eyes didn't help. Well, not completely cold and hard. Charles detected the sliver of worry and fear despite Erik's iron control on his emotions.

Emotions that flared now and then.

"You make an even worse patient!" Erik snapped, eyes blazing.

Yes, flaring like right now, hitting the telepath out of the blue with their strength.

Charles rubbed his forehead, briefly glancing into the mirror, then turned his head on the pale, drawn looking image. He knew he looked bad. He felt worse.

"Serves you right," Erik snarled.

Ah, yes, the anchoring effect. Right now his lover was privy to some thoughts and while on other occasions it was wanted and fun, right now he would have loved privacy. The problem was that he had overdone it, really overdone it, stretched past limits he had set himself, and his brain was retaliating. He needed Erik. Dearly.

"Right you are, professor," the man in question said coldly. "And you need rest and food and liquids."

"Hank gave you a list?" Charles said, trying for lightness. Trying to ignore how open he was to a non-telepath who happened to be his partner.

"After the last stunt, I know how to handle you."

Charles bristled. He didn't need to be 'handled'!

"No, you need a constant baby-sitter, my friend," Erik replied nastily. "And yes, being your anchor entitles me to kicking your scrawny little ass!"

"You never complained about my ass before," he mumbled.

Charles eyed the shower and decided he could-maybe-possibly in some way manage it.

Strong arms wrapped around him as his knees buckled.

Huh. He hadn't felt that one coming.

"You're such an idiot," Erik whispered into his ear, his emotions lapping at the edges of Charles' fuzzy mind.

::Love you, too: he sent, then let his head fall against the broad chest and surrendered to Erik's care as the taller man got him back to bed.

The next time he woke it was dark. Not just the room, but outside. He felt a lot better, his mind sharper, his thoughts no longer jumbled, and from the warm weight over his waist and the soft breathing against his side, Erik was still there.

Sound asleep.

Charles skimmed over the other mind, read exhaustion and worry and love and anger and echoes of his own headache. All wrapped up in a tight ball, coiled and ready, not yet really dealt with but kept from Charles because of his brittle shields.

Oh Erik…

He caught fleeting images of cutlery, a letter opener and assorted small metal objects stuck in the walls of Charles' room. An outpouring of rage and the inability to be more for Charles than what he already was.

But you are so much more. Without you I couldn't do this.

Touching the fingers of the lax hand of the arm so possessively around his waist, Charles caressed the long digits. A sleepy mumble ran through Erik's mind. It was proof to his trust, his total ease, that he didn't wake, ready to fight.

Charles smiled and closed his eyes again, letting the sleepy mind of his partner pull him back into the depth of sleep. It was peaceful. So very peaceful. Despite all the pain and rage and loss and anger, it was what Charles needed and wanted.

Morning brought with a very awake Charles Xavier who felt like he could take on the world again. The dark glower Erik was shooting bounced off his cheerfulness, and even the lingering faint headache couldn't dampen his spirits. Erik was muttering those terms of endearment under his breath again when Charles insisted on a shower, but he was there, right with him, keeping a close eye.

Charles grinned when he caught lustful thoughts as Erik watched him, naked, under the spray. He didn't make a move, though. With a towel wrapped around his hips, Charles walked back into the bedroom, clearly aware of the gray eyes following him.

::See something you like?:: he teased.

Erik's eyes were cold, his face reflecting pure anger, and he advanced on the other man. Charles smiled at him, pure innocence, aware that Erik would never hurt him. Well, not much anyway.

"You are the most annoying man I have ever had the misfortune of knowing, Charles Xavier!" Erik growled. "You have no sense of self-preservation! You think this is fun! You risk your sanity because of some odd mutation out there!"

Charles was pushed back against the wall, a big hand on his chest keeping him pinned.

"Erik, it was necessary."

"No, it wasn't! I know because I was there." He pointed the index finger of his other hand at Charles' forehead. "In there. You didn't have to stay as long as you did! You don't have to seek out every single mutant on this godforsaken planet! You are going to blow your mind to pieces in your idiotic quest!"

Charles met the enraged eyes calmly, reading between the lines with ease. He reached out, cupped the stubbled cheek of the chiseled face, leaning closer. His thumb rasped over the unshaven skin.

"I'm sorry, my friend," he said softly.

Erik stared at him, brows drawn down, looking so completely pissed off, it was a wonder the metal structure of the house wasn't buckling.

Oh, now that he thought about it, the miniature tornado of paper-clips hadn't been there before.

"Erik," he murmured, glancing at the physical representation of his partner's fury. "Please?"

Erik made an abrupt, backwards pushing move with one hand, not even looking behind him. The paperclips scattered and clattered to the ground.

"Really?" Charles asked, brows rising at the mess.

"Fuck you," his lover hissed, eyes smoldering with the true origin of his rage. Worry and love and annoyance at the stunt Charles had pulled.

"You're not a labrat, you hear me? You can't throw away your brain like that! You can't ignore your fucking life!"

"I'm not."

Charles leaned forward, brushing their lips together. There was a second of nothing happening, then he was slammed into the wall, hands pinned to the side of his face and Erik was kissing him. Really kissing him. It was desperation and need and emotions boiling over. He felt it all wash over him, embraced it, answered the wild kiss and reached into the untamed mind of the man he had anchored so deeply to years ago. A man who hadn't pushed him out, demanded he remove the telepathic connection.

::I love you:: he thought. ::I love you::

Erik groaned and deepened his kiss. ::You impossible, impossible man:: he replied.

x x x x x x x

They ended up in bed once again, but this time neither thought about sleep.

x x x x x x x

Charles didn't fall asleep, despite feeling pleasantly exhausted. His whole body was a limp mess and he wasn't inclined to move anywhere anytime soon. He shivered as teeth scraped over his sensitive neck and he turned his head, catching the glint in the sharp gray eyes. A hand wandered, brushing over his still rather sensitive anatomy.

"Again?" he murmured. "You are relentless, Erik, my dear."

"As if you want to object," came the growl that shouldn't be as sexy and exciting as it was.

"Insatiable."

Erik's teasing caress made him tingle.

::Look who's talking::

Erik claimed his mouth, pushing Charles under him onto the bed.

::Control issues much?:: the telepath teased.

Not that the bed didn't reflect on their wild little ride. The metal was clearly bent out of shape and some of his students would never look him in the eye again if they knew what they had been up to...

"If you weren't such a careless ass…"

::I promise to take better care, my friend::

"Safety procedures," Erik snarled. "Two simple words. You drill them into everyone's head but your own! This isn't a walk in the park, Charles! I know what Cerebro can do!"

Charles grew somber and he reached up, curling a hand around his partner's neck. He felt the fear, the stark, naked fear, and it was sobering. Erik was afraid for him.

"I promise," he whispered.

The other mutant let his head rest against Charles' shoulder. Xavier carded his fingers into the dark hair, soothing, calming, his mind wrapped around Erik's. He hadn't really thought about the risks. Only the results. He was a strong telepath, he had trained all his life, he could handle this. At least he thought he could.

Erik huffed. "You don't think anything, Charles," he muttered against the warm skin. "You're a kid in a toystore. Cerebro is a toy. You want to play." He raised his head, hard eyes looking into Charles'. "But it's not a toy. It's not a game. This is your head, your brain!"

Charles gazed into his eyes and into his mind, face serious.

"I promise, Erik."

"No more for now."

"Erik…"

"No. More. You're done. We have enough coordinates to work with. Enough for three or more teams. Who are you hunting anyway?"

"There are so many strong signals, so many promising mutations…"

"Charles…" There was a threat of imminent violence in Erik's voice.

He smiled, soothing the anger away. "Promise," he repeated.

Erik claimed his lips once more, determined, not to be deterred from his prize, and Charles wrapped a leg around his lover's, keeping him in place as he gave as good as he got.

::No objections?:: Erik sent, very explicit images accompanying the question.

Charles moaned, shivering at what the other man was thinking about, what he wanted.

::No:: he replied, watching the hardness in the gray eyes melt into one of need and want and raw lust.

::You'll be sore for days:: came the dark promise.

Charles grinned, playfully biting at Erik's neck down to his collarbone. He sent back something even more provocative, aware that he was playing with fire. With explosives. With something dangerous and volatile. Erik was far from docile and tamed; he was danger and darkness waiting to be unleashed, prepared to take and defend, protect and kill.

"Charles," came the dark promise, the warning, laced with waning control.

"Hm?" he replied innocently.

"For days…" Erik only repeated.

::Promises, promises…::

Control snapped. Charles had no more coherent thoughts left. He just felt. It was enough.

If any of the students were wondering where their professor was, no one was talking about it. No one asked about Erik either. Raven was pretty much aware of what was happening behind closed doors. She didn't need to be a telepath or have otherwise psychic abilities. She was a woman and her teenage imagination did the rest. Hank had told her about one very pissed-off Erik Lensherr dragging Charles out of Cerebro. Ever since, the doors remained firmly locked.

Azazel, who had dropped by for a training session, had only raised an eyebrow.

"Mom and Dad still making up?" he rumbled as he claimed a pile of food.

Sean had stared, then quickly excused himself. Raven thought she had seen a blush.

Azazel had smirked and then gone about teaching three of the older students a few tricks concerning close combat and survival. Riptide had only raised a suggestive eyebrow and disappeared, too. Raven sometimes wondered about those two, but she had long since given up on understanding either. Azazel was far from any normal mutant and she suspected not even human, and Riptide probably had a few kinks she didn't want to know about either.

For now she was glad Charles was out of Cerebro and taken care of. The brief memo he had sent her and Hank had clearly stated that should Charles so much as look at the brainwave enhancer they were to call Erik.

Raven knew what Cerebro did to her brother's mind and she whole-heartedly agreed that his access and use needed to be monitored.

When both men finally appeared, Charles looked…

Raven erased the phrase 'well-fucked' from her mind and replaced it with 'sleepy and disheveled in a good way'. He was dressed in very casual clothes, a new style for him, and Erik had somehow pulled off the all-black-and-damn-handsome act once more, despite wearing only sweats. He hovered over the Charles' shoulder wherever he was, earning him a few pointed looks. Not that he was impressed.

Charles moved a little gingerly and Raven thought she glimpsed a few smug looks from Erik, but she didn't want to ponder that too deeply either. Nor did she want to know where the mark she had glimpsed on her brother's neck came from.

Not that Azazel had much problems in that regard. He popped into the kitchen, poured himself a coffee, looked Charles over, and smirked.

"Got it out of your system, Magneto?" he remarked, looking at Erik who was glaring. He really didn't like his nickname. "It shows."

"Fuck off."

"You got your own marked. Calm down. I'm not going to challenge you, comrade." And with that he was gone.

Alex was trying to hide his laughter behind what looked suspiciously like a comic book. Sean was shoveling eggs into his mouth. Raven rolled her eyes.

"Men," she muttered and took her breakfast outside where she knew Hank was probably still brooding over design plans he wasn't happy with.

She carried an extra plate stacked with waffles with her just for him.

Erik brushed a hand over Charles' lower back as he walked past him, drawing a mental hug, then he was out the kitchen, too. Charles himself waited for his tea to be just perfect, then followed his partner.

He found Erik outside on the terrace, looking into the distance. The gigantic radio dish gleamed in the morning light. Years ago it had marked the beginning of the growth of Erik's powers. Remarkable, ever-growing powers.

Charles leaned carefully against the stone balustrade, back to the dish, looking at the manor. He enjoyed the sun, the malleable feel of his body and soul, his mind at ease.

"Don't even think about it," Erik rumbled.

"Hm?"

"Spending even a minute in Cerebro. Or in the labs."

"I wasn't," he replied mildly.

Dark brows lowered over gray eyes.

"Really," Charles said.

"Uh-huh. Liar."

"I'm not going, Erik. I promised." Charles reached over and curled gentle fingers around one wrist. "I promised."

"Good."

Erik turned his wrist and entwined their fingers, then gave Charles a gentle kiss.

Xavier smiled. ::I was actually contemplating a day or two off.::

The taller man drew back a little, surprise echoing off him.

::What?:: Charles asked, drinking his tea. ::You said I work too hard. I thought you'd whole-heartedly agree::

"I do. It's just a bit… unexpected."

::Even after last night?::

Erik grinned. That shit-eating, pleased, full-of-yourself grin.

::I have this cabin…:: Charles started, projecting an image of the luxurious cabin, fully fitted.

Erik grabbed him by the hem of his sweater and drew him close. "Don't tempt me like that, Charles."

"I'm not," he breathed.

"You know we won't be leaving that place."

"Not planning to."

The kiss was gentle, probing, promising, and he sent reassurance. Erik smiled. Charles mirrored it.

"You think you can leave the kids here alone for a day or two?" Erik teased.

"I believe Azazel and Riptide make good chaperones."

Erik coughed hard, trying ´not to break out in laughter. "What?"

"It was Azazel's idea. He already agreed when I asked him."

"What? When?"

"About five minutes ago."

Charles' expression was downright playfully smug.

"You're impossible!"

"I believe we can safely leave the school in their hands."

Erik wasn't convinced, but he also didn't argue against spending time away from all of this – especially Charles' new toy.

::Not a toy::

"Shut up, Charles."

Charles gave him an angelic smile, then pushed away from the terrace and walked back into the house. Erik shook his head, trying to suppress a smile, and followed.

The man was impossible.

x x x x x x x x

Up on the roof Azazel watched the two so different mutants, then gave a snort of laughter. He teleported back inside, startling two students, and strode into the training room.

He hadn't asked for this almost-permanent job. He had come here out of his own free will because frankly, what else was there to do? He could leave whenever he wanted. Somehow this was entertaining, though, and he hadn't had that much fun in a while.

And who knew, he might just learn something, too.

fin!