let's go to war to make peace,

[atthemercyof]

[ Locked to oldcardigans ]

[ Erik would be something nonchalant if not for the way he stands just beyond the front steps, arms crossed over his chest, gaze slanted at Agent MacTaggert. Her departing pleasantries are more directed at Charles, because Erik very clearly excudes distrust, and even distaste, to any of the Suits. But that doesn't mean his presence is not very much there. The conversation through the night weights itself down at the back of his mind. Too many people are showing an interest now, invasive little questions that get passed off as pleasantries from someone Charles trusts.

Erik sometimes wonders if Charles would just let the government steamroll right on other him. He hopes MacTaggert knows Erik won't allow that as long as he's here.

He tips his head a fraction in acknowledgement of her goodbyes, lifts his gaze skyward slightly, because there's something ticking away in the house tonight, a static kind of unease that crawls under his skin. It's a bit like the dark roll of sky just before a storm as dark eyes follow the movement of the man in front of him. ] Well?

Comments

[oldcardigans]

[ Fingertips digging into the meat of his leg, he wishes Erik hadn't taken that damned walk. ] I don't have a death wish, love. I'll still be with you when this is over.

[atthemercyof]

[ He knows that promises like that can't be made. Erik senses the war on the horizon. But his thoughts are quiet, dark things he chooses to ignore. ] All right,

[oldcardigans]

[ Charles is very aware that his hopes often outreach his capability to give his promises any sort of reality, guilt eating away at the base of the firm resolve he holds. ] Please stop by when you're done with your walk. I - just, when you can.

[atthemercyof]

[ Erik heaves a sigh, flits the coin back into his pocket and glances towards the dark house. This place holds so much for him, but it's nights like this that he wonders if hoping to keep hold isn't futile.

Turning, picking the path back. ] I can feel your worry all the way down here.

[oldcardigans]

Then you won't be surprised to hear I've gotten into my good brandy. [ The humour falls flat, the colour of his thoughts shifting in muted tones, wanting to take comfort from Erik when he hasn't done anything to warrant it. When he speaks again, it's quiet, almost despairing of his own tendency toward selfishness and selflessness. ] I hate fighting with you.

[atthemercyof]

Clearly you must, if I'm driving you to drink. [ Briskly crossing the grass, head down. ] I'm not too fond of it myself.

[oldcardigans]

I realize we have our differences, but must it be so - [ A sigh shakes the connection, Charles turning his glass around speculatively. ] - distressing. The circumstances seem to get the better of me.

[atthemercyof]

We have strong ideals, it can't be helped. Let's just - it will keep for tonight, yes?

[oldcardigans]

[ Willing away this awareness of the future that stubbornly pricks his insides is difficult, but it doesn't stop Charles from wanting that ignorance, just for a few hours. ] Anything, yes.

[atthemercyof]

[ Drawing the front door closed behind him when he enters, shedding his jacket from his shoulders and hanging it up. Erik pauses, draws in a breath slowly, movements now unsure. ]

[oldcardigans]

[ Reflexively reacting to the ripple in his perception signaling Erik's return, Charles drains what's left in his glass and gets his feet under him, moving to the hallway with the night's anger and defensiveness largely blunted, shoving it behind a stoic wall meant to keep his regret equally at bay. ]

[atthemercyof]

[ He catches Charles' shadow ascending the small corridor, the tension leaking out of his posture. He's silent, but it's clear to see that sometimes, despite everything, the arguing works under his skin too. He needs touch, wants to reaffirm this. ]

[oldcardigans]

[ Upon reaching the end of the hall, momentum and nerve seep out far too quickly, leaving Charles anxious and shoulders dipped in something like defeat when he sees Erik, angry at himself, angry at the situation they're put in and unable to change what they are or what they stand for. He meets him halfway, not for the first time wishing that he could rearrange the blocks around them and leave things so that they'd protect this place instead of tearing it down. ]

[atthemercyof]

[ Erik tilts his head, thinks about pulling Charles close and tucking him in to his arms, holding him still for just a moment, allowing himself the brief respite of protecting him. This takes its toll on both of them. ] The drink didn't help?

[oldcardigans]

[ Feeling quite old, Charles half nods and eyes the wrist he cradles in his other hand, agitatedly running the pads of his fingers over the bracelet's designs. ] It seemed like a good idea at the time.

[atthemercyof]

[ There's a flair of something unnameable on his face for a second, pulling on it lightly. ] Do you want to take it off?

[oldcardigans]

[ Swiftly flushed with confusion, he looks back up. ] For having a fight? Dear me, no. [ To Charles, it's more about touching something of Erik's that isn't the man himself, unsure of just where he stands with Erik, left wrong-footed by this business of conflicting ideals. With their time running down, the clashes will happen frequently and violently, combing over the same points until both are wretched with exhausting their arguments. It will change only when the circumstances do, when events lurch forward, and Charles isn't prepared for that.

Awkwardly. ] You didn't think I'd really...

[atthemercyof]

[ Erik wouldn't have blamed him. He's unpredictable and sharp with his feelings. If he were Charles, he would have been cautious himself. Erik never plans to hurt him, but his actions always seem otherwise.

As it is, he's at a loss for what to say, mouth twisting. ] You might.

[oldcardigans]

[ Dropping his hands into his pockets with shoulders rigid again, there's a part of Charles that wearies of his loyalties being questioned time and time again, as though he were given to flight from the first word that passed between them. ] Sporting of you.

[atthemercyof]

[ Closing his eyes as he exhales. ] What do you want me to do here, Charles?

[oldcardigans]

[ The words come too quick to stop the sharpness. ] To not treat me as though I'd throw you out for so much as looking at me wrong, for starters. I wanted you here with me, because we can't let go or apologize for what we think, but we're able to make this work in spite of it, but I can't -

[ At times, it's strangely like he's the only one of them that's in on it, that maybe Erik's whipsawing back and forth shouldn't have affected them, but does regardless, throwing their relationship into question where it had been unassailable. Charles thought it had. Sounding a little like defeat, Charles has had his fill of conflict tonight. ] What I want has no bearing if it isn't what you want.

[atthemercyof]

I don't mean to. I just assumed. Perhaps the bracelet makes you feel held down, I would understand if you needed to be free from it, or me, for a little while.

[oldcardigans]

I didn't ask you back here to belatedly reject your gift, Erik. [ It's quieter, a bit sad without the fortifying defensiveness laying underneath it. ] It's quite the opposite, actually. I thought it might help me keep you.

[atthemercyof]

[ Holding out a hand, biting back the sigh. He doesn't mean for this to happen, and he can feel the upset rolling off Charles. ] Come here.

[oldcardigans]

[ Indecisiveness rankles him for all of a second before Charles takes it, stepping smoothly into Erik's space with the aid of the base magnetism that doesn't seem to dim for their friction, part and parcel with Charles' dear need to be near him. ]