Apparently, Charles realizes, Erik sleeps like a cat.
Erik is curled around him, one arm draped around Charles’ waist, keeping him close, his back resting against Erik’s chest.
Erik is warm, disturbingly so. Charles can feel Erik’s breath ghosting the back of his neck. It should worry him, the fact that after they’ve gotten drunk and shared a few heated kisses here and there, they’ve somehow ended up in bed together, but he’s glad that they’re here.
He feels safe, oddly safe in Erik’s arms and takes delight in the fact that Erik feels safe enough to share his bed.
(Or perhaps Erik is too drunk and tired to realize where they are now, but it’s still a nice thought to consider though and really, if Erik is truly opposed to this, then he would have refused those drinks and—)
“Charles,” Erik mumbles, his voice rough with sleep. “I can still hear you think. Stop projecting.”
His grip tightens, but only slightly. Charles chuckles.
“Also, stay out of my head,” Erik reminds him. This time, he’s not as angry. As he lets out a yawn, he seems more annoyed than anything else. Nevertheless, it makes Charles wince.
“I’m sorry, my friend,” Charles says and he truly is.
“I believe you.”