#this is 90 percent set up 10 percent kiss and its what shaw fucking deserves

[wyslyyzr]

HOW DID I MISS THE FIRST LISS MEME ROFLMAO do it. I dare you. I double dog dare you.

◈ for a first kiss between our muses.  |  @sebastianshaw

through the motions of life, erik has always tried to be decisive. it is a change from the quivering and persecuted child he was, but even then, max had ground nails into knives, and on more than one occasion, decided he would die to kill his oppressors, thwarted only by misstep. he prides himself on his strengths, but there is one distinct category he's had a tumultuous time with: interpersonal relationships. they were often elusive at worst, and complicated at best; his methods were disavowed but he was loved, or he was not loved and was feared, or he was precisely asocial to the point of withdrawal. it was always a struggle, and erik's loneliness was silent, tucked away beneath his breast bone with the rest of his pain he had no desire to aerate.

he doesn't particularly like sebastian shaw, but he tolerates him as demanded or requested by those around him that he respects more, which allows for a subsistence of social dynamic he wished he could simply scorch to nothingness. shaw is oppressively annoying, but erik suspects even if he could train himself to offer minimal reactions, shaw might not retract--his interest ran a bit deeper than mere needling, though erik could not quite deduce what it was that interested shaw. his strength or convictions? maybe, but it was difficult to imagine sebastian approved of how he used them--he'd almost made that clear already. erik simply pretends that isn't there, that he can exist in relative peace, though he feels sebastian's eyes on him rather consistently.

this is a quiet moment, one erik relishes, even if it's beside someone like sebastian shaw. he offers ambivalent reactions, responses, a neutrality meant not to reveal his hand or thoughts, but it would be a lie to claim he didn't enjoy this, at least; the sprawling scenic view of high risen paths and low valleys of clear water, the refracting light from the falling sun, the subtle breeze that tickled his throat and forearms and hands, that lazily tangled in his hair.

when shaw gestures, albeit vaguely, to the ink stretched across his bare forearm, erik's brow sets in clear annoyance, a sharpness narrowing his eyes. sebastian lifts a finger to tut, oh, please, erik, i am not mocking you. he watches shaw fold a leg over the knee, expecting a verbal display of stupidity, or at least, something that would evoke a tremor of rage, but to his surprise, it doesn't come.

shaw mumbles in a way that seems deliberate, like he was sharing exactly what he meant to, a storybook that eliminated any opportunity for vulnerability--like if he said what he meant in an exact tone, it couldn't possibly sound like something that was about him, something that made him less than impervious and grandiose. when he speaks, its of his father, of an impoverished childhood, though the details are deliberately obscured. perhaps a brusque and narrow comparison to what erik endured, but perhaps not done maliciously.

this once, at least.

the bars of tendon in erik's wrist flex as his fingers spider about the rim of his offered glass of champagne, and the taste is fragrantly sweet. he'd observed the bottle had been appropriately stamped with a kosher seal, and wondered if that had been intentional, too, or if shaw had deferred to his misconstrued idea of what exactly kosher meant. that was fine by erik, either way; he hadn't had a good glass of wine or champagne since passover. see, i am not quite the privileged lout you seem to think i am, erik.

erik rolls his eyes, though a bud of amusement burrows into the side of his cheek, pressing a soft line beside his lip. ' oh, believe you me, shaw, i still think that of you. ' he stands from his seat, the sunlight touching his white clothes in such a way that it made erik look otherworldly, illuminating his pale hair, his draped shawl, the tight fit of his long legs. ' i'm unsure what your motivation is for sharing such knowledge with me, ' erik begins, opening his hand in offering to take shaw's emptied cup, ' as it would be out of character to think of you doing anything without an ulterior motive, ' he raises his brows at shaw, though the gesture is almost playful, ' but.. regardless, i appreciate that it was shared. ' shaw rolls his hand on the ball joint of his wrist, flicking his fingers in a dismissive manner. i have servants for that. so erik drops his hand, and shaw rises from his seat in tandem, electing to take erik's emptied glass himself. erik watches him set the pair aside on a small, cherry-oak polished end table that bore nothing else but what looked to be a cigar box. take it as a display of good faith.

' you do nothing in good faith. '

quite untrue, and such an unyielding accusation. you think so low of me. ' is that so? give me an example of your good faith. ' when shaw staggers to an idle, searching for something that would appease magneto, erik almost laughs in his face. ' i did not think so. ' shaw reaches for his arm before he can retreat from the balcony, his hold unkind enough to make erik jerk in response, but he relaxes when it becomes evident to him sebastian merely wants to gain precedence over this debate, and keep him here to speak. well, i make regular donations to a homeless children's education fund in pittsburgh.

' okay. ' thats an example, as you demanded. ' i suppose so. '

when shaw contemplates him, erik thinks he looks rather dull. he watches his brow press into a line. when you learned the scarlet witch and quicksilver were your children, what did you do, magnus?

erik raises a pale brow, something hot and brittle waning in his chest. the sudden switch in topic is jarring, and suspicious to erik. he blinks, averting his eyes from sebastian in thought. ' i held my granddaughter in my arms. i thought about all the time i had missed, and i felt sorry for myself, and sad for them. and i got over it, and began trying to fill in the gaps. why? what does-- '

shaw, perhaps realizing he had yet a hold on erik's arm, lets him go. nothing. it was--a ghost from my past has come to haunt me. you, so filled with them, might have known what to do. i was.. perhaps, asking for .. help.

' help? you? ' ridiculous, isn't it? it feels disgustingly wrong.

' well, thats your problem. ' erik presses his finger into sebastian's chest, albeit the pressure is slight; it's meant to get his attention, nothing else. ' you only accept help when it means theres less work for you to do. what do you do when it makes you vulnerable? i struggled with that for years, and it is still wanting. '

there is a long suffering moment of silence between them, the sun continuing its descent on the horizon, bloated colors of orange and pink crawling over glass. finally, one of shaw's near-comically large hands raises to crest the side of erik's face, his thumb curling to the hinge of erik's jaw, beneath his ear. he tilts erik's head like he's appraising his face, and erik scrunches his nose. ' what are you doing? '

kissing him is certainly the last thing erik could have expected. in fact, it's so left-field to him, so abrupt and strange, that for a moment, erik doesn't know exactly what to do. shaw pulls erik's head down just slightly to compensate for the inch of difference in height, an act erik would suspect meant to be domineering. when his senses come back into focus, he can taste alcohol, a hint of smoke, something beneath that likely to be meat. his heart rushes into his ears, and the swirl of panic pushes erik to respond, his suspended belief finally giving like an overcrowded dam. he balls a fist against shaw's clavicle and shoves with force, successfully prying him free, and nearly knocking him into the railing.

' gott! du khazer, what in--why did you do that? ' erik roars, wiping his face in his sleeve.

i thought we were having a "moment".

' no! '