but that's how we like it, and that's all we want

[atthemercyof]

[ He wakes up, and he's not where he should be. Gone is Charles Xavier's bedroom, the warm press of a body beside him, and in it's place is - well, Erik thinks it's a library. He pushes himself up off the mattress on the floor, black wood shelves looming into view. He doesn't know what's happening, only that he feels a little outside it all. Nobody could have moved him in his sleep, and if they wanted to, they wouldn't leave him somewhere like this.

He turns around to glance at the room twice, moves a little closer to the shelves to draw his fingers across the spines, not plucking them free just yet. There's a sound, somewhere outside the room, and he abandons the examination in favour of opening the door, taking the hall at a quick, but not frantic pace. He's curious, which is bizzare in and of itself.

Though he doesn't look into any of the rooms he's passing, it does feel like there's life in here, wherever here is. He hears the noise again, traces it through. ]

Comments

[oldcardigans]

Okay. Okay, good. [ Taking Erik's hand from around his waist, Charles walks alongside him and counts his own steps, wanting to remember the way it feels before he has to wake up again and have that feeling fall away into nothing. He guides the two of them to the door beside the immense room's main wall, a flutter of apprehension climbing in him, hoping Erik will like the room once he's faced with it in person.

Sheepish. ] I'm... I feel a bit like a schoolboy with a crush. The room may as well be my writing "Mr. Charles Lehnsherr" in my diary.

[atthemercyof]

[ The reference is completely lost on Erik, but he smiles nonetheless, aiming to appease the tension in Charles' voice, because he wants to see it, is openly curious as to what it looks like, touched wholly that Charles even went to the trouble. ]

[oldcardigans]

Well you can tease me all you like on this, if not any of my schooling yet. [ He doesn't completely shake off the awkwardness, but the silence on the way there is more comfortable, Charles' mood grounded by Erik's supportive smile.

Charles all but charges through the unadorned door, stepping out of Erik's way to quietly wait for his word on it. Not quite as broad as his childhood room, but it is tall, three different levels of mostly empty shelves connected by a spiral staircase, reaching toward a brightly coloured stained glass dome that sprawls over the ceiling, dominating the roof and showering sunlight down onto the railings. Said railings aren't without their own familiarity - a rich red orange that turns the place into a warm blaze when the light hits it, like the Goden Gate Bridge did when Charles woke with the sunrise in San Francisco.

The patterns too are reminiscent of the subtle designs on the bracelet, Charles tracing the nearest flourish and glancing sidelong at his friend. ]

[atthemercyof]

[ It is more beautiful than Erik expected, holding a breath in his chest as his gaze drifts. He knows exactly what it looks like, what the designs are reminisce of, and because this is all stored, safely tucked into Charles' head, it means much more than he thought it would.

It feels safe, a part of him cradled in the vast mind of his other half. ] It's - [ And there isn't a word for it, struck again without the vocabulary to express how it makes him feel, apart from the warmth in his smile and the way his eyes settle on the echo of his bracelet. ]

[oldcardigans]

[ A cool wash of relief pouring through him, Charles sighs inaudibly and leaves the rail to crowd Erik from behind, arms sliding warmly around his tapered waist, a kiss pressed to the topmost notch in his spine. Murmuring. ] It's yours. I'm yours and all I ask is that you give me the chance to fill these shelves.

[atthemercyof]

[ His heart is thudding in his chest, the deep sense of belonging filtering through his veins. It's a wonderful thing, and he smiles, ducks his head against the kiss and hums. ] Yes, dear. It's too wonderful not to agree.

[oldcardigans]

[ Smiling against his skin so he can feel it, he hugs Erik more tightly to him, moving to press a kiss at the hinge of his jaw to let out some of the intense affection wanting to claw its way out of Charles. Chuckling softly. ] And stay away from the far corner. I don't want you finding out exactly how much of a slag for you I am.

will be mostly quiet for a few hours while I inhale the coffee :I work days suck

[atthemercyof]

[ His laugh comes across startled, playing for the moment, chin tilting towards where Charles had indicated. ] The corner, you say?

absolutely fine :) I'm out of sorts too, achey things not letting me sleep past the four hour mark

[oldcardigans]

[ Holding fast to his waist with a light chuckle. Lightly admonishing. ] Erik.

/tries to cuddle you from across the ocean.

[atthemercyof]

What? [ Eyebrows lifting, aiming for innocence. ]

/CLINGS LIKE A CLINGING THING

[oldcardigans]

You know what, you fiend. [ Not that he'd deny Erik the privilege, but Charles' face would burn to ashes before the first smattering of thoughts are through with. He's no prude, but it's safe to say propriety is mutually exclusive from his rather colourful imagination.

Turning his friend around to put the offending corner about face. ] It'd be a fair substitute for awkward college experiences, but darling, angels fear to tread here.

[atthemercyof]

There isn't an angelic bone in my body.

[ But he concedes with a smile, mischief giving way to fondness. ] It is very wonderful in here though, brings back memories without me having to even peek at the books.

[oldcardigans]

[ Considering this for a second, a slow smile unfurling. ] Maybe they speak to you because you're in all of them.

[atthemercyof]

That's possible.

[ Even then, it's the colour of the shelves, makes Erik think how lucky it is they tumbled together. ] Whatever it is, it's beautiful.

[oldcardigans]

[ It's how he feels about Erik made manifest as expressly as he can in the physical realm. Beside the direct method, naturally, but this way he always has a piece of Erik in his head as well as around his wrist, more than touch pressed into his skin. He's etched into Charles' head for good, somehow at once the most eternal and mortal way he can have Erik.

Charles won't have to let go of this, not to quell the small voice that still says their differences on humans are too great to bridge. He'll have this, at least.

Bowing his head amiably, eyes soft and very blue. ] Do you need a moment?

[atthemercyof]

[ Erik doesn't reply, just presses in for a kiss, something sweet bubbling under the surface of how chaste it is. ] Thank you for showing me this.

[oldcardigans]

[ Fingertips twitching against Erik's waist, voice as soft as the whisper of fabric on skin. ] I was happy to.

[atthemercyof]

[ Another smile, and Erik is letting his attention slide along to the roof, dazzled by the glass and how warm he feels, safe in the knowledge that Charles keeps part of him safe. ]

[oldcardigans]

Go on, then. Explore if you want to. [ Shoving his stomach oh so lightly, a playful grin belying his affection. He does want to give Erik the option of looking around before they wake up properly. ]

[atthemercyof]

[ He does with a quiet laugh, moves away simply to touch the shelves once, feels the hum of metal underneath his fingertips, and whether or not he should be able to doesn't matter, because he likes it anyway. ]

[oldcardigans]

[ Happy just to watch him poke around in the world he built for Erik, Charles moves to fold himself into one of the fine leather armchairs, one knee crossed over the other. ]

[atthemercyof]

[ Stroking his fingers along the spine of a few of the books. He's not sure whether he should look in them, peeking into Charles' thoughts and feelings at a time would be a little like cheating. He's happy to bask in the room. ]

[oldcardigans]

Know which one that is? [ Picking an invisible piece of fluff off his slacks, the picture of casualness. ] The first night at the CIA facility. Remember your trip to the "gym"? You're a horrid liar, my friend.

[atthemercyof]

It isn't my fault you've always seen right through me. One is not used to a man who's two steps ahead always.

[oldcardigans]

You've found some ways around my meddling from time to time. And, really, trying to drown yourself called for my extra attention, no matter how much you complained about me rooting through your head.