helpmeguideit | Continuing on.

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Continuing on.

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"Breakfast would be nice," Charles said. He enjoyed those times when he woke up early and got to spend some time alone with Erik. They didn't have these moments very often. Not with his own habit of falling asleep in his office and waking up in the middle of the night. He would join Erik for sleep (most nights) well into the night sometimes.

"I was going to get someone to make us something, but it seems I can't get up early enough for that."

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"I wouldn't have suggested it if I wasn't willing to cook," Erik pointed out. It was something Erik took great pleasure in doing, to be honest. It was a skill like any other that he'd practised and perfected over the years, it only made sense the he liked to show it off to others.

"French toast," he asked over his coffee. "Or would you prefer something more English?"

Charles couldn't help but hold back a chuckle at Erik's question, "That's quite alright. French toast is good." He hadn't found many things that he disliked, though. "You don't want English food. I don't, either." He wasn't lying. Most of the things he remembered were dry and bland. Not a good way to start he day.

"English breakfast is simply more of an affair," he explained. "A few too many components for a quick meal. We really haven't that much time before the rest of the house hold begins to wake. Perhaps an hour, if that. I noticed the scent of food usually lure everyone here."

As he spoke, Erik rummaged through the kitchen. He retrieved eggs from the fridge, bread from the breadbox, and some cinnamon and sugar from the spice rack on the wall. "How many slices for you?"

"Yes, and I don't want to share," Charles pointed out. Especially not when he got those few moments alone with Erik. And while he loved his children, he had to keep walls up around himself when he was with them. Walls that he didn't have to have with Erik. Not anymore, at least.

"Two's fine," Charles said, taking another sip of his coffee.

Charles' sentiment warmed him and Erik made no effort at all to keep that feeling to himself. He wasn't sure if it worked, but he hoped that focus on any given thought or sensation magnified it enough that it stood out to Charles. He liked to think it worked as so much between them was unsaid, yet understood.

He shot a look back to Charles before setting to work. These quiet moments meant so much to him, more than he could say. It was part of the reason he always made a point to be the first awake. It allowed him a chance to spend a few precious minutes with Charles before Anne woke even if they never made it out of their room.

"So greedy, Charles," Erik teased. "You have me to yourself all night, every night."

"I do, but I'm often busy," Charles said, and he enjoyed the feeling in the air. The fact that Erik felt happy pleased him. His grin was almost shy (unusual for Charles), as he looked down as his hands, holding his coffee in his lap. He appeared to be thinking, but he wasn't really. He was just enjoying the quiet presence and watching Erik make the french toast.

Basking in the feelings and thoughts that Erik was projecting, basically. "I love you." It slipped, without him even realizing it.

Erik blinked at the words, the egg in his hand slipping from his grasp to splatter on the floor. He muttered a curse in his native tongue and he grabbed for a towel to clean the mess from the floor. It all happened so quickly, Erik found himself crouching on the floor, mopping up the egg before he stopped to look at Charles in a mix of pleased surprise.

"What did you just say?"

Charles watched him, listened, and looked unsure. It was as though at the same time Erik realized what he had said, he realized it himself. He brushed a hand up through his hair, attempting to relax. "I said -- I love you." It was harder the second time, where it didn't slip out as if it was a part of normal conversation.

It washed over him like like the tide lapping a the shore and filled in all the old hollow places with unexpected warmth. A small, genuine smile tugged his lips and, for once, a completely unguarded expression came over his face. He was surprised, but moved by Charles' sentiment. He wondered how someone like Charles' could feel that for a broken thing like himself.

He should say something back. He tried, but nothing came. Erik finished cleaning the shattered egg from the floor and rose to his feet. It frustrated him that he wasn't able to articulate his own thoughts and feelings in turn. He turned away from Charles and leaned heavily on the counter. "I... feel the same way."

Charles knew Erik couldn't return it in words, but he could tell. He could feel it from him. "I know," he said simply. Even without articulation, it was obvious to him. While he cherished his differences from others, this was one of those moments where he more than treasured it -- he was grateful for it. He knew Erik and had started to understand him -- and what being with him entailed.

"I truly do know." He had no expectations and only really wanted Erik there at his side.

Edited 2011-08-10 07:33 (UTC)

A grateful smile settled over his lips and Erik seemed to mentally sigh in relief. Articulating his feelings wasn't something he was good at and it wasn't something he put much effort into changing. Perhaps part of that stemmed from knowing that Charles could sense him. In the time since he'd come back to the mansion, Erik made it clear that he didn't mind Charles skimming his thoughts, so long as he wasn't terribly invasive.

He'd come to realise that Charles had some difficulty dealing with others when he didn't read them. He realised asking Charles to stay out of his head completely was like asking him to close his eyes and find his way through the expanse of the house without running into anything or stumbling. It cut off a vital sense, a sense that Erik was once wary of, but now embraced for the intimacy it allowed them to share.

And it was intimate to him. The direct manner in which he could communicate his ideas and feelings to Charles when he couldn't put them to words. The untainted experience of Charles' emotions if and when he chose to share them. It was a connection Erik wasn't sure he could do without any more. It was completely and utterly evolved and brought them closer in the purest of ways.

"Thank you," he murmured, intensely grateful for Charles' understanding.

Erik allowing Charles to be present in his mind helped Charles greatly. He could know Erik's feelings and make an attempt to understand them. It allowed the two of them to bond in so many different ways. Charles liked that he could bond without words. He could give Erik those pleasant thoughts and feelings.

He put down his coffee and moved near Erik, mostly so he didn't feel like he was sitting off to the side watching him, "You're welcome."

After cleaning the egg from the floor, Erik washed and dried his hands, only to lay one on Charles' shoulder. He was always careful with those gestures, never being too familiar in front of others, especially the children. It wasn't out of shame or fear, nor did he think of it as hiding, merely a simply desire to remain private. So much of their relationship was in unspoken communication, it only served to make it all more poignant for Erik that it was only for them. Even these small affections weren't for the eyes of others, but only for theirs.

And this particular moment, well, it felt like a milestone to Erik. For two decades, he had no place that was his home, no shelter for the raging storm of his own pain and anger. Charles had given him that: a home, respite, peace, family, and now love. All things Erik never expected to have in his life. Though his determined and violent strength was unneeded now, Erik knew that he would, if the time ever came, fight to the last to protect everything Charles had built, had given him.

A playful grin settled over his lips and he turned back to the stove. "Are you going to just sit there or help me?"

Charles let his hand meet Erik's for a brief moment before withdrawing it from his. Those moments were so fast, so private, so theirs. No one had to see it, Charles knew that they had suspicions, if they didn't know. But it was the fact that it was all unspoken and thoughts kept it in a good place. "What would you like me to do?" he asked. It wasn't as though he couldn't cook, but he rarely was one who actively participated in helping Erik. He didn't want to get in his way, but it would be fun to be a part of breakfast.

"Hold these," he uttered quickly, handing off the container of eggs to Charles. It freed up some space on the counter and Erik went about getting a dish in which to better the bread. He put a fry pan on the range and put some butter in to melt. before the took two eggs from the container he'd passed off to Charles.

Charles watched Erik, as he always did, as his way of learning how to do the things he did. It wasn't as though he needed to know how to make them, or didn't know how, but everyone did things a bit differently. Erik was no exception. "And?"

"Don't drop them," he teased. "I can't be trusted not to." That said, he plucked one of the eggs from the container and cracked it open to begin battering the bread.

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