Swingin' Seasons of the Sixties by Eve-the-Charlotte

Prompt: The four seasons.

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men: First Class and, if I did, Erik and Charles would be sipping brandy in Majorca at the end of the movie, celebrating their newlywed status.

Also, Erik might have ended up slightly weird, but he is exceedingly difficult to write, so I hope no one is disappointed.

Spring

Raven smiled widely as she made her way down to Hank's laboratory. She was wearing her new mini-skirt, jet black and shiny, with a royal blue blouse that would match her skin if she was not currently blonde-haired and brown-eyed. As the young woman opened the door to where her new honey worked, she couldn't help but giggle a bit at the sight that greeted her. Hank was currently face down on a typewriter, probably having been typing up some new theory of his before his body could no longer tolerate the sleep deprivation that the mutant normally forced upon it. A string of drool let his lips as he snored away peacefully, which, upon noticing, sent Raven into another fit of giggles. The woman, self-titled "Mystique," smiled fondly as she walked over to where Hank lay and brushed back a lock of dark brown hair softly and removed the uncomfortable-looking glasses he had apparently fallen asleep wearing.

Despite the lightness of Raven's movements, the young Dr. McCoy immediately awoke, catching a slim, dainty wrist which led to a small, feminine hand. Upon seeing the appendage, Hank released Raven's arm, trying to apologize for his grip. That is, trying as Raven started laughing her head off at him. The sensory nerves in Hank's face detected the wet drool, which he quickly wiped from his face, whilst blushing a rather deep red. While brushing away the slobber, Hank found the indentions the typewriter's keys left on his visage, causing the young man to grow even more vermillion. Raven eventually stopped guffawing in order to peck Hank's rouge-colored cheek, whispering, "Good morning, handsome."

So is the glory of the springtime of love.

Summer

The summer sun burned hot as Alex Summers stretched out his limbs as he lay out in the middle of the lawn. Honestly, if you asked Alex not even a month ago where he'd be standing today, his answer would have been, "Still in prison." But now, on this sunny, summer day in 1962, Alex was as free as the breeze, able to go where he wanted to, when he wanted to. There were limits, but the mutant never felt particularly restricted by them, seeing as he spent the last three and a half years in solitary confinement in a maximum security prison. Now, if he could get his damn powers under control, he'd be set. Still, the day was damn beautiful, too bad the sun made Alex want to drift off, which he was doing right-

"Alex!"

-then, if Sean hadn't decided to sever Alex's connection to DreamLand. Honestly, Alex couldn't blame the kid too much for wanting to see him. They had had a wonderful time last night, not as far as Sean had wanted to go, but as far as Alex felt the two of them should go. They didn't know each other that well, and Sean had literally blacked out for a few seconds there just from touching with his fingers, never mind sticking his-

"I've been looking for you everywhere, Alex," the ginger boy panted, obviously still not used to running that much and probably still tired from the previous night's . . . activities. Sean's lips were pursed together and his eyebrows were furrowed heavily and, honestly, the image made Alex want to laugh out loud. Sean never had a particularly good serious face and, by the way Sean was now openly pouting, Alex's thoughts were showing on his face. Alex smiled a bit at the Irish mutant, which only made Sean pout more. All that pouting made Alex want to kiss the boy standing in front of him, and, like most non-life-or-freedom-threatening things, Alex acted upon that instinct.

To be quite frank, the first time Alex kissed Sean was rather awkward. First off, they were completely snookered, which did not help either of their balances when they leaned in to smooch. Secondly, Sean, though being sort of the girl in the affair as based upon lack of experience, was taller than Alex, who was used to kissing girls shorter than himself. On top of that, they were both guys, in spite of some of Sean's (in Alex's opinion) girlish aspects, so there was confusion on who was supposed to lead and how much pressure they should use and things like that. Lastly, they both really, really did not want to screw their first kiss up, so they were so nervous they bumped noses and clashed teeth together in a bone-jarring manner and one of Alex's canines cut open Sean's bottom lip and Sean accidentally bit Alex's tongue in surprise when Alex had slipped the muscle into Sean's mouth and they both lost their balance and Alex landed painfully on the linoleum floor and thank God that Sean was lighter than he looked because the guy landed right on top of him. It was a nerve-wracking experience, but Alex was proud to say they had improved most definitely by the end of the night. Kissing wasn't the only thing they had improved last night that involved mouths and tongues, like the truly excellent reaction Alex had gotten when he sucked and licked and nipped at Sean's peachy pink nipples (Whoever said only women enjoyed that was obviously lying) and that thing Sean did with his mouth (too wide to be good on actors or models, but suited the mutant perfectly) and his tongue (blessing from the gods) on Alex's-

Havok had his train of thought broken when Sean whined that Alex wasn't listening to what he was saying. To be fair, Alex was not, but would he be called a sap if Sean did not look absolutely adorable and also utterly delectable, come to think of it? (Not that he ever really wasn't, even after being forced to exercise all day in the hot sun, because Alex couldn't smell that well anyways and Sean's face flushed a shade of pinkish red that Alex always thought he would be after being thoroughly fucked, which may be accurate based on just how he reacted to the fingers Alex had used on his-Wait, where was he? Oh, yes, Sean was always attractive, oh yes he was.) Thus, Alex could not be responsible for his actions just then, which included, but were not limited to, stunning Sean with a kiss, carrying the boy bridal style through lawn and mansion, grinning and cackling wickedly at the catcalls he received from Raven, dropping a comforting kiss onto Sean's forehead to soothe the ginger's embarrassment at being paraded through their home like a trophy, kicking open Sean's bedroom door (Sean's, because Alex's had a gaping hole or two in the walls and ceiling), tossing Sean onto the bed and proceeding to have his wicked, wicked way with Banshee.

So goes the passion of love in the summer (which is still there, just covered up by teenage hormones).

Autumn

When Emma had first met Sebastian, she could not deny the man was charming. And despite all of her mind's protests, she couldn't help but find that charm attractive, even if his face did nothing for the blonde. Not that his charm was all he had to seduce the young teenager; he also had money and, even then, enough of a power base to attract little Miss Frost, the ever willful heiress, to him like a moth to the flame. Only, at the time, she had fooled herself that he was the moth and she the flame. After all, he was the one who said he needed her, that he could never achieve the full scope of his aims without her. Those words were poisoned honey, though she didn't feel the toxic effects until much, much later. She was a tool, and she hadn't even known it.

Several years later, they had sex. It wasn't harsh enough to be called fucking, yet there was not enough actual love for it to be identified as "making love." By then, Emma had become aware of the ways of the world, and she knew Sebastian wanted her for more than her telepathy. She knew she was beautiful. She knew he had experience in such matters. It seemed inevitable that Emma invite Shaw into her bed. The experience was not a particularly pleasant one for her, as there was little foreplay and no warning before penetration, but Emma learned to eventually enjoy it. Just like how she had to learn to live with permanent minions of Shaw's (she, of course, never cast herself in such a demeaning light). Azazel, once she became used to his teleportation and appearance, was tolerable, and Riptide, once his mouth was out of the way (when she was served tongue at that exotic restaurant a few months later, she had to excuse herself to vomit, still seeing the memory of blood and a severed human tongue on the floor), was agreeable as well. Still, she didn't exactly like to have to share Sebastian's attention. Emma had fallen in deep, far too deep to hide her feelings for the man who could play with energy. And Sebastian knew it.

When Emma was thrown into government prison, she thought, she expected Sebastian to free her. Yet, he did not. She searched for him with her mind, but, because of that godforsaken helmet, Emma could not reach Sebastian. He probably thought her dead. However, a late night five days into her captivity, Sebastian finally removed that goddamn piece of metal from his skull and Emma could feel him again. And what she saw disgusted her. Emma, simply, had been replaced by some Hispanic slut who didn't have even one mite of power compared to Emma. Miss Frost could feel her blood boil as she sifted through Sebastian's memories of their bedroom escapades. Emma felt something wet on her face, which she dimly recognized as tears. Sebastian would never free her; Emma was just a pawn that had outlived its use.

The fall of love is never sweet.

Winter

It was cold inside his mind. Funny, he never knew such a thing to occur, but, then again, almost no one knew of telepaths, correct? His mind was colder than that one winter's night in Auschwitz, when the temperature was recorded at -37 Celsius. No Charles for warmth, for serenity, for . . . love. Erik Lenscherr had only loved two people in his entire existence, one who he had killed and another who he had crippled. No matter what excuses his mind would come up with, his soul knew that their blood was on his hands, had stained his soul. Verdammit, why did nothing go in the manner it was supposed to? Why did his best laid plans always, always be for naught? Why, why, why?

Erik was tempted to just rip off the bucket-shaped (yes, even he realized how ridiculous the thing made him look) helmet to let his schatz into his mind, to kill him, even, just so this aching loneliness would cease! Yet Erik knew he couldn't; there was so much work to do, so much he had to do, to somehow justify his actions, his existence, even. The German Jew had to help remake this world into a better place, and neither money (something that never corrupted him) nor love (which made him wish for death) could stop him. And maybe, just maybe, he would succeed in his life and maybe, just maybe, he and Charles could just . . . be. That was all Erik really wanted, to just be in a world without pain or anger, just love in the form of his schatz. It sounded so weak and pathetic when spoken aloud, but Erik knew that Charles would understand in the end, when he would finally speak those words, once the pain and anger stopped.

Erik Lenscherr looked around at his army, consisting of Azazel, Riptide, Angel, White Queen, and Mystique. Many more would join his fight soon enough. Erik, despite the wintery freeze in his mind, could see clearly the future, where mutants would rule the world, with himself as their leader and Charles at his side. The German Jew put aside Erik for another day, for his people needed Magneto now. For Magneto could do so many things Erik, with his love of Charles, would be rendered incapable of doing, due to the flaw.

Erik would bloom again in the spring, with his other half, while Magneto thrived in winter, driven by schmerz und ärger.

Fin.

German to English Translations:

Schatz – treasure

Schmerz und ärger – pain and anger