#i wonder what erik wet dreams are even like.... charles just get into Weird Therapy territory apparently but whats going on in eriks brain.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Does Erik get any Flustering dreams of Charles? We've been VERY well fed on the "Charles dancing on that metal pole" end of the spectrum so now it's made me curious if the master of magnetism has some Nastey Thots,,,

He got that helmet on for a reason dont he …..

[turtletotem]

Sleeping Beauty

@gold-from-straw​ won a fic from me for her participation in the Star Bright Release Party (currently on Week 3!). It was supposed to be 1k... it’s almost 3k, because I can’t write short things. Hopefully that’s a feature instead of a bug. Also posted on AO3 here.

The chosen prompt: “I thought you said you weren’t dead.” “I’m not! ...exactly.”

.

It wasn't like Charles to stand him up. They'd only been dating three months, and didn't get to see each other as much as Erik would like, both being busy with work and children—Erik only had Lorna on Wednesdays and weekends, but that was more disruptive in some ways than having her all the time, and in Charles's case, as a mutant-specialist social worker and emergency foster father, the children were his work. Still, ever since the day they met—when Erik fell into the pool where Charles was doing physical therapy and nearly drowned them both—they had made time for each other. So for Charles to miss their standing Friday night dinner at Erik's house, without so much as an apologetic text, was worrisome.

Erik texted three times, and called twice. By then worry was transmuting to anger. Charles said Erik's go-to emotion was anger because it was easier than being afraid. Maybe he was right, because Erik was in a towering temper by the time the second call went unanswered. He left an expletive-laced voicemail that he immediately regretted, and tried to remember if he had Charles's sister somewhere in his contacts. She lived on the opposite coast but maybe she'd know something…

He didn't have Raven's number, but they were Facebook friends. He sent her a message there. No answer. Well, if it was nine o'clock here in New York, it had to be, what, midnight in L.A.? Or did the three hours go the other way? In which case she was probably in the middle of dinner.

Whatever. Erik tossed his phone on the counter and started putting away the uneaten meal he'd cooked. He wasn't hungry.

Erik?

"Charles!" Erik shouted, catching the pasta pot with his powers when his hands let go of it. "Where are you? Damn it, are you dead?"

No, I'm not dead. Charles's mental voice sounded chagrined, as well as distant and strained. But I need you to come get me. I'm sorry.

"Where are you?"

The hospital.

When he arrived at the hospital, Erik followed the sound of Charles's telepathic voice—stronger now that he was closer—up elevators and down hallways. No one stopped or questioned him, and he wondered if that was also Charles's doing. But why would Charles need to sneak him in? Why did he lead Erik through the maze to his room, instead of meeting him in the lobby? Wasn't he being released? He'd said he needed Erik to come get him…

Finally he spotted the right room number, and rounded the doorframe to step inside.

There was Charles, pale and completely motionless in the bed. His eyes were closed, and most of the lines on the nearby monitor were flat.

"I thought you said you weren't dead," Erik said, anger rising to meet a spike of panic.

I'm not! …exactly.

"What?" Bewildered and annoyed, Erik examined the monitor more closely. Charles did have a heartbeat after all. But that seemed to be about all he had. Were those other flat lines supposed to be brainwaves?

They're saying I'm brain-dead, which is obviously untrue, Charles said with asperity. I'm still here! I just can't get them to hear me, mostly. Only enough to keep them from unplugging me.

"What do you want me to do?" Erik was appalled to realize his eyes were wet. He picked up Charles's pale, lifeless hand. "You said to come get you. Are you expecting me to steal your body or something?" It was utterly absurd and he wouldn't do it, he thought, even as he eyed the steel frame on the window and calculated whether Charles's hospital bed would fit through it.

Nothing that dramatic as yet. I was exaggerating a bit about the unplugging—they wouldn't do that until they get hold of Raven. My body's safe enough for now. It's me, the rest of me, that needs to get out of the hospital.

"I don't understand."

Turn around, will you?

Frowning, Erik did—and saw Charles, leaning against the opposite wall. He met Erik's eyes, smiling sheepishly, and waved.

My psyche is rather naked, walking around outside my body like this, he said, and all the pain and fear and so on is really getting to me. His mouth didn't move with the words, and his body was noticeably transparent. I haven't been able to leave on my own, but I'm hoping if I can anchor myself to your mind, it will let me get further away from my body. Your house is still within the range of my telepathy from here, after all.

"No wheelchair," Erik noted, which seemed a less inane thing to say than Are you a ghost?, which had been his first instinct.

Yes, that's interesting, isn't it? Charles looked down at himself, wiggling his transparent legs. But it makes sense. The wheelchair is a body thing. You're lucky I figured out how to imagine myself some clothes.

Erik couldn't help smirking. "Am I? I don't call that luck."

Charles snorted at him, eyes twinkling. Just get me out of here so we can figure out how to wake me up.

 Charles's plan worked; after resting his insubstantial hand against Erik's temple for several seconds of hard focus, he was able to walk out of the hospital at Erik's side, and get into the passenger seat of his car (without having to open the door). It was all surreal beyond words—My boyfriend is in a coma and I'm helping his not-quite-ghost escape the hospital; I'm gonna laugh my head off when I wake up from this dream—but at least it did seem to help Charles. He relaxed bonelessly against the seat (that he wasn't actually touching) and rubbed his temples as they pulled away from the hospital.

"Charles, what even happened?" Erik asked. "How did you get hurt?"

Lost control of the chair going down a steep ramp, rolled right out in front of a car.

The mental image left Erik sick and breathless. "You could have been killed. You could still…"

Charles reached out and laid one transparent hand over Erik's. He could feel it, almost, like a dream or the memory of a sensation. There's no reason to panic. I'm still here, and I'm still tied to my body in some way—that's why I couldn't get too far from it without anchoring to someone else. Raven won't let them unplug me; I'll probably be able to talk to her just as I'm talking to you. Remembered desperation lurked under his smile. You've no idea what a relief it was to make contact with you, when I couldn't get the doctors to hear me, except for a distant feeling that I might not be as gone as I looked.

"I'm just glad I hadn't gone to bed yet," Erik said. "Did you try, I don't know, laying back down in your body?"

I did, and several other things besides. It's hard to explain, but I can't get it to feel like mine, like part of me.

Erik tried to tighten his hand around Charles's. "We'll figure something out."

When they pulled into Erik's driveway, he was startled to find another car already there. Suzanne's, with Lorna's little green head visible in her car seat.

"What… I'm not supposed to pick her up until morning! Did I forget some change to the schedule…?"

I don't think so, Charles said. Suzanne's upset about something, but not at you. She's feeling very apologetic toward you.

Erik climbed out of the car, tentatively alarmed, and found Suzanne already coming around her car toward him.

"I was just about to use my key and come wake you up," she said. "Should have realized you were out, no car… I'm sorry, Erik, I'm all over the place." Her mascara was streaked, her hands shaky.

"What's wrong? Is Lorna okay?"

"Lorna's fine. It's my mom, she's taken a turn for the worse. I don't know if you knew she had another stroke a few days ago?"

"Oh." He grimaced in sympathy. "I'm so sorry."

"Do you mind taking Lorna a little early? I know it's last-minute, I'm really sorry, but I've got to hit the road—I could take her with me, but she's barely met my mom, I think she'd mostly just be frightened and confused—"

"Of course, of course I'll take her, no problem. And I'll keep her as long as you need." Erik never minded getting more time with his two-year-old daughter. "This is tough, Suzanne, I'm so sorry." Should he offer a hug? He and Suzanne were amicable, but not really close... and he admitted it felt weird to hug his ex with his boyfriend watching.

No hug, she'll fall apart if you do, Charles whispered in his head, and then somehow communicated a sheepish expression at Erik's half-formed censure about Suzanne's privacy. I don't have much in the way of shields in this form, sorry.

"You're the best, Erik," Suzanne was saying, and turned to open the side door of the car. "C'mon, princess, time to go inside with daddy!"

"Daddy!" squealed the little girl in the car seat, and began kicking and reaching for him while Suzanne tried to unbuckle her.

"And here's her bag, do you want me to carry it in?" Suzanne said when Erik had Lorna snuggled against his shoulder.

"I've got it," Erik said, latching onto the metal rings holding the strap on the duffle bag. The bag floated out of Suzanne's grasp toward the front door. "Drive safe, Suzanne. You're getting a really late start."

"I know." She kissed Lorna's brow. "See you in a few days, baby!"

Well accustomed to trading one parent for the other, Lorna cheerfully waved goodbye as her mother drove away.

"Well this is… timing," Erik said, as Charles appeared at his elbow. "Can Lorna see you?"

I don't think so. Lorna, love? Hello! He waggled his fingers in front of Lorna's face. No response. I guess it's only people I'm strongly connected to that can see me like this. At least I hope it is, and not just you for some reason.

"I'll explain to Raven, if I have to," Erik said, opening the front door with his powers and floating the duffle ahead of them. And if Raven—against all odds, really, knowing her brother was a telepath—didn't believe him, he'd see about levering that hospital bed and all its important equipment out the window after all.

Charles smiled and leaned an insubstantial head against his shoulder. You're sweet.

"Not a lot of people say that."

They don't know you like I do.

"No, they don't." Erik had to stop and look at Charles, feeling an almost involuntary smile on his lips. No one knew him like Charles—or at least, no one saw him the way Charles did, as a good man with a good heart. Erik's coworkers hated him, his clients tolerated him, Suzanne in her heart was afraid of him.

Lorna loves you, Charles pointed out, looking saddened by the direction Erik's thoughts had taken. Lorna adores you.

"She's too young to know any better."

Children are often wiser than any of us.

"Well," Erik said, horribly certain he was blushing, "this child is way past her bedtime. Did mommy already brush your teeth, sweetie?" Lorna was already wearing pajamas—green, her favorite color, to match her hair. Erik had to hand Suzanne this much; she had never hinted at rejecting her mutant daughter, though Erik had seen how quickly that could change if her powers turned out to be something dangerous.

Lorna, leaning sleepily against Erik's shoulder, nodded her head. "Brushed teef. Had stories. More stories?"

"Sure, why not. More stories." The poor mite deserved some kind of treat after being pulled from her bed and dragged across town without warning.

Erik carried Lorna to her bedroom and settled them into the rocking chair next to her crib. She was big enough for a toddler bed, Erik just hadn't gotten around to getting one. She'd grown so much, so quickly…

It's astonishing how quickly they grow up, Charles agreed, watching Lorna with a wistful smile. It was no secret that Charles wanted children of his own, even after spending all his working hours with them. Erik wondered if he'd ever tried to adopt any of his cases, perhaps one of the ones where he ended up serving as emergency foster care. Wondered if he'd have more luck with adoption, if he were married…

There was still a book next to the rocking chair from Lorna's last visit, a storybook version of Disney's Sleeping Beauty. Erik picked it up and began to read.

 Charles knew he couldn't actually sit anyway, but it felt awkward to 'stand' around the room while Erik read to his daughter. There weren't any more chairs, but he finally settled onto Lorna's toddler-size play table; the weight of his body would have collapsed it, but his body wasn't here. He 'sat,' and watched Erik read to his sleepy daughter.

Charles thought Lorna was adorable, but he hadn't spent much time with her. He and Erik had only been dating three months, and Erik wasn't going to bring someone into his daughter's life until he was sure that person deserved to be there, and planned to stick around. Because Erik was a good father. A good man.

Charles didn't see Erik through rose-colored glasses, whatever other people or Erik himself thought. He knew that Erik could be downright mean, that anger was his go-to emotion, that his view of the world was harsh and painfully cynical. But he also knew how much good Erik's heart held, how much passionate protective love that only needed somewhere to land, some beneficiary he could trust not to reject him. Erik would fight for every version of his people—mutant, Jewish, queer—but that was a cause, not a family. And Erik would die without hesitation for Lorna, but she was someone he had to protect, not someone he could lean on. He needed a partner.

Charles wanted to be that partner. He wanted to be the stable center of Erik's erratic orbit, a source of love and joy and certainty, a second father to Erik's little girl. Part of a family. He really didn't want to be dead.

"Prince Phillip rushed to Aurora's side," Erik was murmuring to Lorna, "and bestowed a gentle kiss—True Love's Kiss—on her lips. Aurora's eyes fluttered open. The curse had been broken!"

A kiss sounded wonderful, Charles thought. If he had his body here, he could climb into Erik's warm, cozy lap and press kisses all over Erik's tired, scruffy, beautiful face. Erik was a very good kisser and Charles could imagine—

Oh. Huh. How about that.

Distracted by Charles's sudden distraction, Erik looked up from the storybook, but Charles waved him off. He needed to figure out what had just happened before talking to Erik about it.

He had felt something, just now. Felt his body, distant as it was, respond in some tiny, flickering measure to the thought of kissing Erik. Which was more than any other thought had been able to do.

Erik, he said, a few minutes later, when Lorna was asleep in her crib and Erik was closing the bedroom door behind them. I have an idea.

 Erik brought over a neighbor that had watched Lorna before, with the promise that he wouldn't be gone long and she was asleep anyway.

"My boyfriend's been hurt," he said. "I need to go to the hospital."

"That nice young man? Oh, dear, I hope he's all right," the neighbor said with sleepy concern. "Don't worry a bit, dear, I'll just read in your living room and keep an ear open for Lorna."

There's no need to get yourself a ticket, darling, I'm not going anywhere, Charles said as Erik's car sped toward the hospital. When this failed to have any effect, he laid a transparent hand on Erik's knee. Please? Getting yourself killed in a wreck right now would be terribly inconvenient for me. Do let's wake me up first.

Erik rolled his eyes, but lifted his foot from the accelerator.

Like last time, Charles was able to keep anyone at the hospital from stopping Erik, and guide him to the right room, following the beacon of his tenuous connection to his own body.

"Sleeping Beauty, huh?" Erik said, looking down at the still figure in the bed. "You look more like Snow White."

My lips aren't that red, Charles said, embarrassed by Erik's mental image of him, which was at least three times as attractive as reality. Not now, certainly. Skin white as snow I will grant you.

"Yeah, you don't look very good right now," Erik said, brushing his fingers down the sickly-pale cheek of Charles's body. He glanced up at the telepathic projection of Charles's appearance. "You sure about this?"

Not at all, but it can't hurt to try.

Erik looked down at Charles in the bed, still stroking his cheek, then bent and kissed him.

And Charles felt it—felt all his nerve endings lighting up at the sensation, felt the pull of his body's response to being touched. Not his body—him. He was being touched, Erik was kissing him, Charles wanted to kiss him back, and—

And he was, he was kissing Erik back.

Erik pulled back with a gasp, and Charles was looking up at him now, looking up from the bed. He was inside his body, which felt terrible, bruised and battered and broken, his head aching fiercely—but he was awake, and all the monitors next to his bed were going crazy.

"True Love's Kiss," Charles said, smiling, and pulled Erik down to kiss him some more, just as a bevy of nurses hurried in to witness the miracle.