towerofanimus | Is This Home?

For a split second, Erik is really worried that Charles will attempt to shoot him. But then the gun is being thrown away, and telepath seems to collapse onto himself as he begins to realize the situation.

Erik has no idea what his friend has had to deal with, but once the gun has been thrown away, he hurries over, kneeling in front of the chair so he can see the other more directly.

"Talk to me." A large hand moves to run into Charles's hair, trying to get the other to look at him. It's only after he's made the move does Erik realize he's left a streak of blood in the other's dark hair...and that he must look like a walking horror.

No wonder Charles was concerned about his motives. "You disappeared yesterday--they tried to make us believe you'd gone home. But today I found a door that stated I needed to save you."

And that was exactly what he set out to do.

He won't look up at first, and really he's not so sure if he wants to. The proof that Erik killed all those men, 'real' or not, is all over him. Crimson and quite disgusting to smell this close.

But it's enough to jar him, to help him over come the initial shock of the situation. Or second shock. The first being the... other(?) Erik here. Or maybe that had just been all fantasy as well. Charles wasn't sure anymore. But Erik was here, right here in front of him, he could feel his hand in his hair and could feel his mind. The worry, the concern, it calmed him a bit.

As gruesome as the other man looked, and as terrible as things had been just seconds before, thinking he was going to be murdered by his friend, Charles will let out a shaky laugh.

"You're filthy, Erik." And he'll look up, blue eyes assessing the sight before him. Right now he wanted nothing more than to hug him, tight, but he wasn't exactly interested in being covered in blood.

"... it's only been a day, has it? Feels like longer." He might be shaking just a little, nerves trying to calm, to seem as calm as he's trying to sound right now.

"Hey, you can't kill an entire mess of CIA and come out smelling of roses." Erik gave the other man a tight smile, tilting his head. He knew that Charles might not approve of what he did out there (in fact it could easily start a fight), but Erik did what he had to do to save Charles. And that meant killing the humans--there would have been no other way.

"I know. I...I don't understand how this happened." He admitted; Erik wasn't even sure how to get back, frankly.

But first things first. Giving into a flashing urge, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to Charles's, softly, before moving to stand up.

"We'll go upstairs, I'll shower. Then we'll figure out how to leave."

And any other time Charles would have responded differently, would have been angry with Erik. Aghast. But this was different. He knew Erik would do it all again if this were actually home, but the fact that it wasn't real, that this was some fabrication of the tower... he was able to let it go. As much as it still disgusted him.

His own lips pull into a tight smile at Erik's attempt to cheer him up. He appreciated it, he did, as terrible as it all was. The soft press of lips to his own have the telepath gawking up at Erik for a moment, before he nods.

"-- yes." A numb nod before he snaps out of it, "Yes, you could do with a shower and the facilities all work here, so we might as well utilize them."

"All right." Erik gave the other a firm nod, before bringing the gun that had been flung away into his hand, tucking it into the waistband of his pants.

"It will go quicker if you allow me to float the chair. Do you mind?"

Even in their situation, he thought it was best to ask, especially since Charles had been agitated mere moments ago.

Erik was being patient with him, it was appreciated, to say the least. He'll nod, fingers gripping the arms of his chair tight, expecting to be lifted at any second.

"I agree, it will be quicker."

It wasn't a new sensation, he'd been lifted this way before in the tower... didn't mean it wasn't strange to feel every time it happened.

Erik nodded and with a slight move of his hand lifted the chair, heading up stairs.

"...You need to tell me why you were so worried about me showing up." Erik needed to know what they might be up against, later.

He noticed that there was no one else in the Mansion, earlier...clearly whatever the Tower had conjured up, it was meant to break Charles's will.

He'll glance at Erik, seeming uncomfortable wanting to explain it, but he figures the best way would be to show him. Looking down at his own lap, he'll bring one hand up, fingers pressing a little against the side of his head, focusing on projecting everything that had happened in this reality here in this world the tower had fabricated for him.

Being alone in the mansion. Seeing the conversation between Alex and Erik. The boys not wanting to talk to him. Speaking with Erik through Alex. The threat of his friend coming to kill him along with the CIA. The feeling of being so utterly alone, with no options left open for him.

He has to stop it before it starts leaking into the absolute fear he'd felt when Erik started killing the CIA agents, when he'd thought Erik was here to take his life. Pulling out of his mind he'll sigh, hand dropping into his lap.

"I apologize for thinking you were here to do that... but I hope you understand my reasoning."

Erik is silent for a long time after seeing the images presented to him, continuing to take both of them up to Charles's room. He placed the other man down, and went into the bathroom, starting the shower. Leaving the door open, he began to tug his turtleneck off, tossing it into the sink.

Normally he wouldn't have allowed anyone to see him like this, but considering the situation, Erik didn't care if Charles saw the scars littered across his back, his sides, his chest. Marks from Shaw's torture, from his own bids of vengeance.

Not turning around, he toed off his shoes, speaking evenly, belying his own inner turmoil. "I do. But if this is a manifestation of your worst fears...I suppose it's good to know what you truly think of me."

It isn't a bid for an attack. Erik's simply...weary. And a bit torn that Charles would ever think him capable of any of that--of killing Charles.

Blue eyes watch quietly as Erik starts the shower, as his shirt comes off. He knows what the marks are, what every scar is from. From Shaw. Even those that Shaw didn't actually make on Erik, they are a result of Shaw and what he's done to Erik, what he's made of the metal bender.

"Erik..." This wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want more discontent between them. And it wasn't the truth, what Erik thought Charles thought of him. He misunderstood.

"... there are many things I think of you, but that you would kill me is not one of them. What I fear is that I will one day force you, push you, into becoming someone capable of that." And while that might not sound like much of a difference, it was to Charles. He knew Erik wouldn't kill him. But his ideals and their differed opinions, who knew what that would do in the future. What Charles' way of saying everything wrong at the worst time could do to Erik one day.

Who knew what would happen years from now. He could push Erik away, not meaning to. Turn him into the man he'd seen here in this other reality. And it scared him. Scared him that it could be possible.

"...all right."

Erik didn't know what to say to that admission, but that. All right. Because it was all right--a good answer. One that he believed. Stepping into the shower, he left the curtain open so he could continue to talk to the other man, even as he lathered up. Modesty had never been something he'd been concerned with.

"Are we going to have to deal with him?" He looks over at his friend, raising an eyebrow. "...the other me, I mean."

When he looks back over at Erik, he's fully bare and stepped into the shower. It has him pausing for the briefest of moments, eyes not used to the naked figure of a man. Charles is used to the softer, smaller figure of a woman, shapely and with curves. Erik is tall and lean, hard and covered in scars.

Yet Charles doesn't find anything about his form ugly. He's quite the figure to behold and to be honest he's jealous. Jealous of those long powerful legs that Erik can still walk on, that he strides along with, can run quickly with. He doesn't wish Erik was in his position, this is nothing about feeling his friend should be in his shoes because of what happened, no, this is nothing like that. He merely wishes he could still stand up, walk along side him. Not be a burden in this ruddy chair.

And it's then, as his fingers curl tight on the arms of his wheelchair, feeling that indent on the one arm, that he realizes he's staring.

"I don't know." He clears his throat, eyes casting down to his lap.

"... we have to find another door out, I assume? There is a chance he could come here, see the mess you've left outside and come looking for us." But who knew if it would actually happen.

Erik notices the way Charles stares, then looks away. He frowns momentarily in confusion, unsure whether the telepath was staring because he liked what he saw, or if he was simply jealous.

For once, Erik is more prepared to deal with the latter, rather than the former. He's...still unsure where he falls with Charles, on things. Too soon to tell.

Finishing with the shower, he turns off the water, wrapping a towel around his waist.

"That's our best option. Though what the Tower is going to throw at us still...." He shakes his head. He isn't sure.

Padding over to his friend, he reaches out, touching his hair. "Let me get rid of the mess."

Charles is trying to be an adult about all of this. To think about the important things, what they have to deal with, if this other version of Erik will come to find him. Yet as Erik reaches down to touch at his hair, a towel the only thing covering him, he can't help but let his mind wander. His eyes do as well, staring, slowly moving over damp flesh.

"... you look much better without all the blood." He'll peer up at Erik's face, and nod a little.

"Thank you, I appreciate the help." And those eyes of his look away, ashamed that he's letting any sort of arousal or desire spring up in the middle of something like this. Erik was all business, and here he was admiring his friend and feeling his cheeks grow slightly warm.

"I'm sure you would think so." Erik quirked an eyebrow, giving the other a bit of a smirk. He's not a fool--he can tell Charles is more than a bit distracted.

But now was not the time, now, was it.

Running this thumb along the other's cheek for a moment, he moved the chair back against the tub, pulling the shower head down, the water on. "Head back, please."

Erik smoothed back the other's hair, water splashing onto Charles's shirt.

"Sorry."

He can see that smirk from the edge of his vision, he knows Erik has seen him looking at him. Watching him. He's very sure Erik doesn't mind it either. It makes him feel good really.

The thumb against his cheek has Charles' eyes flickering back to Erik as his friend moves his chair, pushing it back against the tub. Wordlessly he'll tilt his head back as far as he can when asked to. The sudden warm splash of water wetting his shirt has him starting and he'll reach up to touch the wet spots of cloth.

"Are you sure you can handle doing this?" A quirk of a brow at Erik.

"That shirt is ugly, anyways." Erik smirked, using his powers to keep the shower head steady as possible, as he started to lather up the other's hair with both hands.

He wasn't good at any of this; even mild affection was...unknown to him. But he was trying; Charles had been through a great deal, here.

Charles will let his hands rest in his lap, rather enjoying this to be honest. It felt nice, hands in his hair and all, awkwardness aside. There's a soft snort as Erik insults his impeccable fashion sense.

"That towel you're sporting isn't any better." Which made no sense, it was his towel after all. But what sense was to be had here right now? None. Charles was appreciative of Erik trying to be uplifting of the situation, light teasing and all. It was a coping mechanic for himself as it was, so it felt good to hide behind it with Erik.

"If you don't like it, take it off." Erik smirked, calling Charles's bluff. Nudity didn't bother him in the slightest, and he knew that the other man definitely had some...reactions to it. Whether it be with him, or Raven.

Finishing up, he turned off the water, moving to get a towel to help dry his hair.

And he'll just open his mouth to say something, not know what to say to that and huff softly, making a face. Really, Erik. Charles had a reaction to seeing his sister naked because well... she was his sister, or as close to a sister as he'd ever have. Erik it was for different reasons.

And in the past Charles would have been completely comfortable with his own nudity, but not any longer. His body didn't feel or look like his own any more, he hated it. It was uncomfortable for himself to look at his own naked body now. Much less anyone else.

"... if I will be taking anything off, it's this shirt. You soaked it, Erik." He'll offer a frown, plucking at said wet shirt.

"That I did." Erik smirks, gesturing. "Well, take it off. I'll go find something acceptable in your wardrobe." Hands move to tighten the towel around his waist, before going to pad off into the other room.

"You realize I have no clean pants, now. Unless you kept my clothing dreamed up in my old room." Which, if Charles did...would be very telling, and in some ways, quite sad.

Instead of taking his shirt off right there, he'll roll out after Erik, a bit behind him. At the question Charles stops, and he'll set on looking very focused on yanking off his vest, then unbuttoning his dress shirt.

"Ah, yes... your room is as it was..." He'll mutter, as if he's not admitting he left Erik's room exactly how it had been. For a little over a month. As if he expected Erik to come back. Hoped he would. Even though through all the want and desire for his friend to return to him... he knew it wouldn't be that way.

"...all right." Erik doesn't feel the need to say anything to that. Charles is in a vulnerable position, and not one the other mutant wants to press, for once.

Reaching out a hand, he squeezes his bare shoulder. "I'll be back then."

He heads out of the bedroom then, to dress and let Charles collect his thoughts.

When Erik leaves, Charles feels like fool. A needy pining fool and Erik can easily see it now. He feels so exposed in this reality, and not because he's half naked mind you, he could care less about Erik seeing that, just... Erik seeing his vulnerability since their parting on that beach.

Wheeling over to his dresser, he'll tug out a dress shirt and cardigan, getting them on with little issue. Pondering staying here, waiting for Erik to return, he'll push that thought away, sitting around, waiting, he's done with that. So nudging his door open he'll roll through the hallway, down to Erik's room. Giving a knock on the door with his knuckles, he'll call through the door.

"All settled in there, my friend?"

"You can come in, Charles. It isn't anything you haven't seen." Erik chuckles softly, finishing sliding on a pair of pants, and pulling on a turtleneck. He isn't sure what he truly wants from this--him and Charles. This is hard...complicated.

And this place, this false reality? Is certainly not the time or place to start trying to sort it out.

Is This Home?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)