title: My dreams are bursting at the seams
word count: approx. 1000
characters: Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr
notes: Written at the instigation of the lovely Blackbird_Singing, and because I wanted to write something that was Charles+Erik and related to a wedding and also to the Owl City song Fireflies. So: modern AU, with powers, and getting married!
Maybe they should have eloped after all, Erik thinks wearily, as he turns to the stack of cream-colored envelopes on his desk. He'd lost the coin toss and besides Charles's handwriting has never exactly been anywhere near legible, so Erik's stuck with the task of addressing the wedding invitations.
And they'd thought fifty was a small, manageable number.
Erik's hands are already cramping up and he hasn't even picked up his pen yet.
On the other hand, it's a comfort that the pen is Charles's - well-worn and scratched up in places, but the maroon of the barrel is still beautiful and vivid against the white of the blotter. He only has to turn it a little to see the initials engraved into one end - CFX, and the wonder of it all is that those letters will soon be outdated - Erik has to smile, and he has to begin on that, on a good note, and he consults the list and begins to write:
Irene Adler / Raven Darkholme
Vivid dark blue ink that could never hold a match to the particular shade in Charles's eyes. Erik smiles, and writes out the next names with a flourish, and the whisper of the nib against the heavy paper is almost soothing, a counterpoint to the aches and stresses weighing on his shoulders.
And he's not the only one complaining.
Charles has been driving himself crazy organizing the million and one details of a little wedding on the lawn of the Westchester mansion, and Erik's got the duty of looking after all the guests, and yes he has his mother to help him out with that, but Edie's not the one getting married, and there's only so much she can do.
Still, they've only got a few weeks to go, and these invitations are the last thing he has to take care of before he wades into the impossible task of wrangling people into the little program that Emma and Jean insisted that they have at the reception.
He's pretty sure he's going to be up to his eyeballs with that one till the moment he says his vows.
Erik's most of the way down the list when his phone rings, and he summons it with a negligent flick of his power and he blinks when he reads the name on the screen.
"Charles, please tell me you've got a good reason to be calling me instead of calling me?"
He can hear the laughter in Charles's voice very clearly, and despite himself Erik has to smile back, though there's no one to see it. "Because I'm about to spring a surprise on you and I'm rather better at controlling my voice than my thoughts right now."
"Debatable," Erik says, teasingly, and he thinks of Charles's voice fraying around the edges while Erik touches him.
And Charles coughs and says, quellingly, "None of that, please, you're distracting me."
"You can't tell me you don't want to be distracted."
"From the million and one details of the wedding, yes please - but not from this. Come down, will you? Only I'm still idling in front of your office and the policeman's going to make me drive off in a few moments and then it will take me another ten minutes to come round the block to get you."
"All right, all right," and no one but Charles has to know that Erik tears all the way downstairs, six floors to the lobby and then out the door in record time, and he all but dives into the passenger seat of the car, and Charles pulls out into the traffic with enough speed to press Erik back into his seat.
He's never seen anything more beautiful than Charles's conspiratorial grin, and he sends him an image of the two of them kissing, of the two of them curled around each other, and Charles says, "All in good time, Erik."
When Charles expertly navigates them around to their favorite bar the first thing Erik does is raise an eyebrow at him - and the second is to note that the place is closed, and there are keys in Charles's hand.
Erik follows Charles in and watches with interest as the other man switches on just a few of the lights - the ones for the stage and the one for the lantern hanging over their usual table, near the stage and near the window.
"I'm assuming you want me to sit down," Erik calls, and he's already moving toward the chair, turning it back to front and dropping into it easily, though he can't hide a wince for the kinks in his shoulders and spine.
And then Charles hops onto the stage and whips off the great brocaded cloth covering the baby grand, and Erik sits up straight when the other man smiles and sits down on the bench, when he uncovers the keys and presses middle C down, and the note trembles in the shadowed space between them, in the air full of sawdust and the dying spring sun.
"Before I take requests," Charles says, "there's a song I want to sing, and this one goes out to the only man on this earth brave enough to put up with me and all my strange habits and ideas, the only one who puts up with all of my notions and quirks, the only person I've ever loved to the point of heartbreak and distraction and pain."
Erik catches his breath, and he's heard any number of silly stories about being in love and getting married, and he has never for a second paused to think he was going to get something even better, something real and strange and right for all that it was flawed and imperfect.
But all of that is right here on the stage, it's the here and now, it's everything Erik hadn't known he'd been dreaming about, and Charles smiles and begins to play, and he begins to sing.