Partners in Misery (X-Men First Class, Charles/Erik, colds)

[Midnight]

THIS IS AMAZING!!! I was kind of bored, and i realized i hadn't been on SFF for a while, and i saw this!!!! this is probably the best fanfiction i have ever read! i can't wait to read the rest!!!! thank you so much Spoo and Dusty!!!

[Dusty15]

PART TWO (added from the edit on page 1 so you can read the whole fic again!)

--

Even Erik had to acknowledge the brutal releases that no longer carried the delicacy and restraint Charles normally exhibited when he sneezed.

"Gesundheit," he said, laying down onto his side. "At this point, I've lost count who's sneezed more."

Not that it was a competition, but they were certainly getting up there in the numbers. In fact, one could even say they were perfect candidates for a cold medicine commercial on television.

The start of a coughing fit was trapped within his mouth before he was forced to openly expel the spasms against his pillow. Eventually, the coughs grew so deep and phlegm-ridden that they urged Erik to sit up again.

Clutching his chest, he leaned back against the headboard and attempted to settle his crackling breaths, coughing in between. Resting would be difficult when he could barely lie down without his lungs viciously protesting.

Worried enough by the coughing to manage sitting up too, Charles tried to ignore the dizziness he felt as his inner ears gave way to the head cold and sent his balance reeling. Steadying himself with one hand on the bedpost, he pushed a pillow behind Erik’s back with the other, helping to prop the larger man up.

“Slow breaths,” he coached, pressing his hand to Erik’s back and forcing the man to lean forward. He rhythmically patted Erik’s back, not particularly strong but hard enough, he hoped, to clear some of the coughing. His own head was filling with stronger and stronger images and flashes of thoughts, pressing into the backs of his eyes and muddling his already weakened senses.

He leaned into the pillows, hand slipping from Erik’s shaking back as his eyes closed, trying to block out his telepathy.

Erik would have shrugged Charles off had he not been at the mercy of his damn illness. When he was able to get a hold of himself again, he glanced over at his friend and noticed the unpleasant look that was etched across his features.

A telepath with a head cold was a disastrous combination.

"I can't imagine how you must feel," he commented, feeling a little too warm for the blankets now. He withdrew his legs from under the quilt and readjusted along the pillows behind him. "I'm surprised you haven't completely shut down yet."

His powers didn't rest with telepathy, but to have a pulsing headache, sinus pressure, and the thoughts and emotions of others cramming into his skull? Erik would have no doubt snapped by then.

“It’s a lot,” Charles confessed, his eyes still closed. He felt exhausted but he knew his head was unlikely to let him get much quality sleep. The chills were fading and he just felt flushed and uncomfortable.

He coughed huskily, chest rumbling and crackling with each quiver. His breath felt hot as it rebounded from the pillow, spreading across his face. The pain in his head intensified and he let a hissing breath between his teeth as it spread outwards, throbbing right behind his eyes.

A pinch to his nose, right below his eyebrows, did little to help. He squished his pillow up behind his neck in a bolster and let all his weight drop back, trying to relieve a bit of tension. The downward angle just sent the congestion in his nose flowing backwards and down his throat, forcing him to abandon the position as more hoarse coughs wracked his body.

He was not a complainer or whiner by nature, but Charles wanted nothing more than to curse and bemoan this blasted flu. He couldn’t remember feeling worse, and he’d endured the measles as a child.

The rest of the day, or what was left of it, played out similarly to the afternoon and morning. Erik was far too stubborn to allow himself to fully succumb to his sickness, so he spent most of the evening hacking, sneezing, and literally shoving a pillow over his head in an attempt to sleep.

By the time the next morning came, he was awake and active before he had a chance to realize his condition hadn't improved. In fact, he may have even felt a little worse. His muscles ached beneath his skin, pumping fatigue into his body with every heavy-headed step he took.

After a hot shower with plenty of steam that helped, but did not remove his congestion, he pulled on some clothes and ventured downstairs. Erik's original intention had been to secure some coffee; he did not anticipate having a conversation with the innkeeper.

Apparently, the ongoing storm had finally broken overnight, and in its wake some of the island's shops had reopened. The drugstore was among the listed few. Erik did not particularly find this information useful, considering he was anti-medicine, but he knew that Charles would appreciate the news.

By the time he’d fallen asleep, sometime in the early hours of the night, it was only because Charles’ body had finally succumbed to pure exhaustion. He barely stirred when Erik got up for a shower and it was only the sound of the door closing as Erik left to go downstairs that finally roused him from his nest of blankets for long enough to look up.

The morning sun was visible above the curtain rod where it snuck around in the form of a bright yellow line. The room was oddly quiet and it took him a minute to realize it was because of the absence of pelting rain. Only a light shower fell now, barely audible on the rooftop.

Charles sat up with considerable effort and shuffled into the washroom, sitting on the toliet while the bathtub filled, holding his aching head in two propped-up hands. He blew his nose with a bit of toilet tissue, still unable to clear it very much despite the messy honks, and tossed the soaked paper in the rubbish bin.

The bath full of lukewarm water, he undressed and slid into tub, submerging up to his chin. His head rested on the crook of the tub’s lip, lolling in a half-sleepy stupor. It was refreshingly cool against his still-fevered neck.

Ehh’ghxtttt!

He sneezed painfully, the loud sound echoing in the tiled room. He cupped a handful of water and rubbed it across his face, washing away the spray. With a washcloth in hand, he lazily scrubbed at his skin, washing away layers of night sweat and the smell of illness, until he felt significantly cleaner if not much healthier.

He paused at his chest, feeling his own breath moving in and out. He coughed a few times, marveling at the expansion of his ribs and the feeling of the fluid shifting below. Pounding a fist there, he shook and shook, coughing until his throat was sore and the congestion loosened. Then, sliding back down into the water, he rested until his fingers pruned and he heard Erik re-enter the room.

"Charles?" Erik called, looking at the empty bed.

He assumed his traveling companion was in the bathroom due to the fact that he hadn't seen him come downstairs. Surely he would have passed him if that were the case. Leaving Charles to his business, he projected his voice (or what remained of it) loud enough to be heard through the door.

"The stores have reopened. If you wanted to restock, you'd better do it before we leave," he said, gathering his belongings into his bag. "Which will be soon. The ferry is running again. The first boat leaves in an hour."

Which gave them enough time to check out, visit the drugstore, and then head down to the docks. Sure, Erik felt lousy as all get out, but he didn't plan to stay on the island now that their ticket to freedom was back in commission.

“Okay,” Charles croaked from the confine of the washroom. He really didn’t feel in any shape to be traveling on a ferry, or frankly anything but lying in bed, but he suspected Erik was chomping at the bit. In fact, he knew it; the other mutant was practically screaming the emotion straight to Charles’ brain.

Erik was in the finishing stages of packing when a sharp prickle in his nose had his teal eyes watering. He barely managed to duck his head to the side when the monstrous sneezes forced their way out, bending him at the waist.

"Eh'SSHKkgkkttsh!" he paused, gasped, and then exploded again, "EH'AEESHhhuihh!"

He was prepared for a third, but it tapered off into nothing more than a barrage of ticklish hitching breaths. Without any tissues on hand to clean up the mess (they were in the bathroom where Charles was), he reluctantly settled for sniffing deeply and swallowing the thick glob of snot he retracted from his nose in the process. Disgusting.

Toweling off, Charles pulled on the hotel dressing gown, smoothed back his hair, and went out into the main room.

“Morning,” he said, surveying Erik’s neatly-packed things. Past the point of modesty, he pulled on just his shorts before disrobing to put on his trousers, button-up, and the same wooly jumper he’d practically lived in the past two days. He suspected it smelled a little musty, but he was too stuffed-up to notice or care.

“I would like to stop by the druggist, if we’ve got time,” he said, putting his things back in his traveling case. He balled up several used handkerchiefs in the corner under his spare shoes. One was still a little clean and he pocketed it along with several squares of toilet tissue. “Ready?”

He picked up his satchel and shouldered it along with his suitcase. Just walking to the door made him feel winded and he coughed wearily into his shoulder, nuzzling his face there a moment to clear a drip from his nose.

Erik briskly walked into the bathroom and practically stole a roll of toilet paper. Pocketing the cluster of white, he joined Charles at the door with his own bag shouldered and ready. "Let's go."

The adrenaline of leaving and not being confined any longer was giving him energy, but he knew as soon as they stopped walking and settled in one place, his head would throb, his nose would run, and his muscles would hurt. It was why he kept a strict pace, even if it threatened to overexert him.

The checkout process didn't take very long, and soon they were back on the cobblestone streets. The drugstore was only a little down the way, hidden between a family-owned restaurant and a bakery.

Slogging along behind Erik, Charles remained quiet, concentrating on staying upright. As soon as they went down into the pub and out into the town, new voices flooded his conscious.

"I'll wait outside," he stated, indicating that Charles go in alone when they reached the drug store.

Charles went inside, head a-buzz with the other patrons happy the business was re-opened. With a basket full of cold medicine, pain reliever, a thermometer, lozenges, mentholated chest rub, a carton of orange juice, and a box of tissues, Charles joined the long line at the single register and waited his turn.

With his items paid for and a heavy plastic bag in hand, he rejoined Erik outside where a light drizzle fell. Down the road at the docks, a small group of people gathered, prepared to board the tiny vessel to the mainland.

“Better get going,” he said, heading towards the water, head bent against the rain. His arms ached with the weight of his bags, though on a normal day he’d have found them easy to carry.

They boarded the ship and Charles went immediately for a spot under the deck, sheltered from the rain and winds. He sat on one of the long benches along the edge of the ship’s hull and dug into the medicine bottles, dosing out a decongestant and fever-reducer, swallowing them with a swig from the small carton of juice.

“You should take some,” he said, extended the bottle to Erik. “I know you don’t like it, but it’ll help…it’ll help a lot.”

Erik eyed the bottle and then looked away, declining quietly. He had no desire to ingest anything that had no business being in his body unless placed there artificially. In time, he would get better without the aid of pharmaceutical toxins.

He did, however, snatch a sip of Charles' orange juice, if only to wet his dry throat.

As the ferry filled up and deported with a rough lurch, Erik kept his gaze along the wall. Now that they were sitting and heading back to the mainland, he was beginning to feel the weight of his cold returning from the depths of his pride.

He sniffed softly, not particularly wishing to draw attention to himself in front of people he didn't know. The ride wasn't too terribly long, but anything felt like ages to the impatient man who sat, arms crossed, wanting nothing more than to continue their travels and seek out more mutants.

Reaching into the bag, Charles folded a tissue and put a few lozenges on top before palming the items and pressing them into Erik’s hand. The two men sat quietly, the sound of the waves lapping against the boat’s sides.

The trip took nearly an hour, and about halfway through, Charles felt the medicine begin to take effect. The ache in his head lessened and it was easier to keep his mind protectedagainst the projections of others. The decongestant made his nose begin to run and he resorted to simply holding a tissue under his nostrils as they leaked steadily, rather than continuously sniffle or blow his nose.

He couldn’t prevent himself from sneezing, though. Apparently, his nose was none too happy with all the activity and began to itch incessantly. Finally he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Ehh’ghshttttt! T’sghhhhhtt! Ehh….hehhh’tsghhhttt!

The fit came on fast, his head snapping in rapid succession as he sneezed into the waiting tissue. It quickly flooded and he reached for another, swapping them just in time for another volley.

Ehh’tshhhhht! Hehh..ehh’sghhhttt! ‘nghhhtt!

He pinched his nose in desperation, stifling the last sneeze. The tickle temporarily hushed, he carefully let go and got another fresh tissue, blowing his nose wetly.

The combination of a pulsing headache, congested nose, and the waves rubbing beneath the belly of the boat left Erik feeling a tad bit disorientated. He wouldn't go so far as to dub himself seasick, but he was definitely a little queasy.

In response to the sneezing attack that occurred beside him, he set a hand over Charles' thigh and squeezed lightly; his palm was hot, indicating his elevated temperature, but his unspoken 'bless you' message was clear.

Suppressing the urge to cough by breathing slower than usual, he leaned back and closed his eyes. A minute or two passed of uninterrupted silence before the dormant prickle in his sinuses ignited like a lit match, making Erik suddenly aware of what was about to happen.

He hunched forward and steepled his hands over his nose and mouth, stifling the otherwise powerful releases towards his lap.

"Ng'GXXkt!…hh!...k'XXNt'xsh…"

Beneath where they sat, the nails in the floorboards trembled and threatened to jerk out of their foundations. It was why stifling was never a good idea for a metal-manipulating mutant. Plus, attempting to muffle the sneezes only made the initial tickle worse.

As a nail beneath his foot pressed upwards against Charles’ shoe, he looked over at Erik, worried. Pressing a hand around the back of Erik’s burning neck, he massaged lightly, concentrating on soothing the aches and sending calm thoughts. Erik’s mind was hazy, almost woozy, and Charles fought to steady it.

“Close your eyes” he communicated wordlessly. “Forget about the others here. You can put your head on my shoulder if you like; to rest if you need it.”

He removed his hand from Erik’s neck and reached for a tissue, passing it to his friend.

“We’re almost there,” he said reassuringly.

'Almost' couldn't be close enough.

"…Igh'SHKhkxt!"

Erik accepted the tissue not because he was touched by Charles' concern, but because his nose was more or less dripping. Snuffling into the soft cloth, he sat up straight again and was greeted by several pangs of pain to his skull.

A colorful slew of German swears rang through his mind as he, defeated, leaned against Charles for support. His head was killing him, his ear viciously throbbing, and, worst of all, his nose still itched with the pressing urge to sneeze.

The man was miserable. At least the pale skin of Charles' neck was pleasantly cooler than the hot Savannah plain that was Erik's forehead at the moment.

Curling a hand around Erik’s head, Charles put a finger against Erik’s temple and circled it slowly as he leaned his own cheek against the top of his fellow mutant’s thick blond hair.

They stayed that way, stony figures rocking with the swell of the boat, until there was the shout of a sailor above and the sound of the boat coming up against the pier for docking.

Gently shrugging Erik off his shoulder, Charles reached for his bags.

“Ready?” he asked, glancing at his wristwatch. “We should be able to catch the noon train if we hurry.”

His legs shook a little as he stood, reminding him he wasn’t healthy yet. A thin drip of congestion slid down his throat and he coughed to stop it. If he still felt this awful with the medicine, he couldn’t imagine how Erik felt. The other man already looked dangerously pale with dark, sunken circles under his green-blue eyes. Charles felt a pang of sympathy in his stomach for his dear friend. If only the poor bastard would take something, he’d feel better, but Charles understood Erik’s reluctance. Forcing it wasn’t a good idea.

Erik swallowed down a wave of nausea when he eventually took to his feet again. He gathered his belongings (what little of them he had packed) and followed Charles off of the boat. Thick clouds hovered above them, drizzling.

Were he a weaker individual, Erik would have collapsed by then. Still, he carried on without stopping once.

It wasn't long before his fever-muddled mind went into autopilot. He walked without thinking about it, his eyes hollow and unfocused. He was more of a zombie than a mutant, it seemed, with his sluggish movements and lifeless expression.

The train wasn’t far from the pier where they left the ship, but it felt like a point in a vast horizon they weren’t getting any closer to. Charles walked at a steady pace with Erik keeping time, albeit slightly more wobbly. Charles tried to ignore the wheezing he heard from both their lungs as they huffed and puffed with exertion.

At the end of the road, the train tracks came into view and Charles sighed in grateful relief. He went to the counter and purchased two tickets to Boston, their next stop in their recruiting efforts. Then, bags in hand and Erik behind, he boarded the train and found an empty compartment, sliding the door open with his foot and entering, relieved to be in a spot where they could rest for a good length of time.

Setting his bags in the luggage rack, he fell back into the padded seat, panting. He fished a tissue out of his pocket and blew his nose loudly, the liquefied congestion seemingly endless now that he had some medicine in him.

For once, Erik was grateful that they were confined on a train with nowhere else to go for a while. He situated his bag beside Charles' and then, weakly, he sat in the corner of the seat, wedged between the plush cushioning and the window. The cold glass felt amazing against his brow; he was tempted to leave it there for the duration of the trip.

Not a very talkative person by nature, he was even more so when ill. He was as silent as the grave (and perhaps even deader).

He did, however, finally give into the chest-numbing coughs that he'd held onto while they were on the boat. In the aftermath of the fit, he used the remnants of his tissue - well, at least the shredded and damp particles - to dry his wet, chapped nostrils. This was one hell of a cold. That much was obvious.

Already he was drained from the boat ride to boarding the train. He closed his eyes, still leaning against the window, arms resting in his lap.

Watching Erik lean against the window in the grips of a coughing fit, Charles felt the same sympathetic pang in his gut. The other man looked truly awful and being a caregiver by natural temperament, it bothered Charles to see Erik so miserable.

Remembering some of the other supplies he’d purchased back at the island druggist, he reached into the plastic bag and took out the tissue box along with the thermometer and the metholated chest crème.

“Hey,” he said, siding close to Erik and holding a fresh tissue. He didn’t ask permission before dabbing it under Erik’s irritated nose, trying to be as gentle as possible. “I have a thermometer and some vapour rub. At least put some of that on and let me check to make sure your fever isn’t too high.”

The pressure in his own sinuses swelled as he leaned over Erik and he straightened back up, pressing fingers to either side of his nose and sniffing softly.

Erik hadn't anticipated an outside source touching his sensitive nose, which was, coincidentally, on the verge of expelling another sneeze. The straight bridge wrinkled, nostrils flaring greatly, before his head tipped back, chest expanding with fluttering breaths.

"Hhhih….hh…Eh'SKTCHHhhuhh!"

But if that didn't feel wonderful…

Eyes opening, he looked at Charles through a partially watered gaze. The telepath was being awfully motherly, and he wasn't sure if he found that more amusing or bizarre. He indulged Charles only because he could see that his friend was genuinely concerned, and Erik wouldn't have that.

"Yes, mother," he tiredly teased, plucking the thermometer between his fingers and sticking the tip beneath his tongue. He faced forward as he sat back, his lanky frame settling nicely into the padded seats.

Barely blinking at being sneezed on, Charles crumpled the used tissue and put it aside, letting Erik take the thermometer. He waited patiently until it stopped rising and slid the glass tube out from between Erik’s lips…those lips.

He glanced down at the red mercury strip. 101.5…not terrible. Not good, but not dangerous. Raising his eyes to meet Erik’s, he felt his heart skip a proverbial beat. Maybe it was his own fever, maybe it was the intimacy that traveling for so long in close quarters created, maybe it was their unexplained connection…who knew? He cleared his throat with a nervous cough and scanned Erik’s face with his piercing blue eyes.

And then, not quite knowing why, he leaned in and pressed his rosy lips to Erik’s hot forehead, kissing it softly before leaning forward, his brow against Erik’s hairline, his lips still grazing Erik’s skin.

“Not mother,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Your friend, Charles. I’m worried about you.”

Erik was a grown man. He had his own thoughts, his own opinions, and certainly his own preferences when it came to intimacy. Another male in his place might have been horribly offended or disgusted by Charles' gesture, but he, far too weary and apathetic at this point, didn't push the other away.

In truth, the soft lips felt good on his forehead and he was tempted, so tempted, to seek them out again. Sighing, he figured that Charles being as close as he was was better than nothing.

"It's in your nature," Erik agreed, coaxing his body to lean more against his friend. "You worry endlessly like a mother hen."

He wasn't saying that that was a bad thing, but it was definitely a quality he didn't choose to have. Being concerned reflected an attachment of sorts, and Erik was the last person who wanted to get attached to anything. It was far too dangerous - too painful.

The taller of the pair turned his head at an angle, his mouth moving against Charles' jaw as he spoke.

"This is different…"

Charles closed his eyes lazily, his lips touching Erik’s- softly at first, and then firmer in a brief but electrifying kiss.

His lips pulled away a bit, his cheek against Erik’s warm face. Nimble finger tips unbuttoned the top few buttons of Erik’s shirt and Charles reached behind for the vapour rub, uncapping it and spreading a small dollup across Erik’s chest, smooth fingertips caressing the wide expanse of skin. He nuzzled his face against Erik’s neck.

“Not a hen,” he breathed.

He wasn’t about to come clean to Erik about it now, but he’d been with both men and women before, not frequently or anything, but he’d certainly had relations with both. But he’d never felt as intimate as at this moment, hand on Erik’s chest and nose against Erik’s neck.

Charles tasted like the lozenges he had purchased back on the island. It was not Erik's first kiss by a long shot, nor his first one with a member of the same sex, but some things were better left to nights of raw, nameless passion once upon a teenage year.

"Would you prefer a different animal?" he asked, smirking.

Erik was a little disturbed how comfortable he was feeling with Charles. He couldn't explain it, but he almost sensed a connection between them. It was one of the reasons he had yet to bolt like his natural instincts encouraged him to do.

"Or perhaps…" he paused, breathing in the soothing rub, along with Charles' clean scent. “You'd prefer something else entirely."

Three fingers captured the other man's chin, tilting his head up. Erik observed those inviting lips before he drew in, not kissing, but simply allowing their mouths to touch. How arousing. Charles was undoubtedly attractive with a boyish charm that failed to age his gentle face.

Erik was surprised it had taken him so long to notice or, more importantly, act upon it.

“Maybe a rooster,” he said, a laugh vibrating his lips against Erik’s. The laugher turned unexpectedly to a cough and his hot breath spread across Erik’s face. He pulled back in horror, leaning into his arm, coughing hoarsely.

“I’m sorry,” he sputtered, recovering. “Must’ve been the rub. Works for both of us in close proximity, I guess.”

He nestled back into the crook of Erik’s neck, trailing slow kisses upward.

“If I wasn’t sick too, I’d feel rather differently about all this,” he teased, kissing the tip of Erik’s nose tenderly. “Poor love.”

Were he a feline of sorts, Erik would have been purring. The kisses against his neck felt nice, too nice, and it coaxed him to tilt his head, so that Charles would have more room to roam. His nose wrinkled when a gentle kiss met its tip, causing him to sniffle.

"Differently?" he asked, interested.

As much as he liked the attention he was receiving from Charles, Erik enjoyed taking on the dominant role when it came to intimacy. Be it his pride or simply a preference, he found it essential to be the one in control.

It was why he gently pushed his companion onto the seat, so that Charles was lying on his back. Then, looming over him, Erik gazed into those magnificent blue pools.

In sickness or in health, Charles Xavier was a beautiful creature.

He trailed the soft pads of his fingertips over the fullness of the telepath's bottom lip, exploring. Then, replacing his fingers with his mouth, he kissed Charles a little deeper than he had before. They were already ill, so contagion wasn't a problem.

“Contagious,” Charles replied. “We’re both sick, so it doesn’t matter.”

He allowed Erik to lower him down onto his back, his head close to the edge of the long bench seat. Erik held himself above and Charles could barely feel their torso touch as Erik leaned in to kiss him again. Charles raised his head a little, lips pressing back.

Lying down presented a problem in the form of rapidly-shifting congestion which flowed back and collected in his sinuses, making him stuffed-up again.

“Erik,” he gasped against the other man’s lips, pulling away from the kiss and turning his head to the side to cough. “I can’t breathe.”

He rolled to his side tugging Erik a little.

“Lie down with me,” he said, guiding the metal-bender downwards so they lay face-to-face on the narrow bench.

In their new position, Erik wasted no time letting his gaze take in Charles' features. Their faces were close, their noses only a few inches apart, so it was an optimal opportunity for surveying the other man's physical characteristics. Aside from his lips, Erik found Charles' eyes to be the most inviting.

But wait. Here was something he hadn't noticed...

"Freckles," he said, guiding a finger up to trace the faded spots along Charles' cheeks, as well as the two that were on his nose. "And here I thought you hadn't stepped foot outside as a child."

He was teasing, of course.

One of Erik's arms spooned around Charles' waist, holding him loosely; his fingers began to trace small circles over his companion's hipbone through the waistband of his slacks. He was comfortable - immensely so - and were he not fevered or generally ill, Erik found that he might have enjoyed their closeness a little more.

Charles’ lips curled up into a crooked smile.

“You’ll make me blush,” he joked, closing his eyes at the soft touch of Erik’s calloused fingers on his face. He leaned his forehead against Erik’s.

“You’re so warm,” he said. His fingers toyed with the delicate hairs at the nape of Erik’s neck, curling the damp blond tendrils upwards. He could feel Erik’s thoughts inside his head, as if their brows were a permeable membrane, some sort of thin barrier between minds.

“I’m going to sneeze,” his own voice said inside their brains.

Reflexively, he pulled his face away from Erik’s, burying it against Erik’s shoulder instead.

Eh’tscghhht! Hehh’tsghhhtt!

This was new. Erik couldn't recall the last time someone had actually sneezed on him, much less into him, but the fact that he didn't care made the event rather unexciting.

The actual sneezes, however, were warm. A little damp, too.

"Gesundheit," he stated, the phrase rolling off rather naturally on his German tongue.

He would have offered Charles one of his own tissues, but his hands were a little busy at the moment. Besides, it appeared the telepath was making excellent use of his turtleneck as a substitution.

Not that he would tell Charles that.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said, sniffling. He brushed a hand against Erik’s shoulder, trying to rub away the wet spot that had formed on the black turtleneck. “That wasn’t very attractive.”

He turned and nipped playfully at the neck of Erik’s shirt, moving up towards his lips again.

“Maybe this is better,” he said wickedly, leaning in for a kiss. He was a truly awful flirt, when it came down to it, but his own brand of charm had done him well so far.

“You’re chapped,” he said between kisses, carefully turning his head to kiss the sensitive bit of skin above Erik’s lips, right below his nose.

"I'm sick," Erik countered, which was an explanation all in itself.

He wasn't too sure what he and Charles were currently engaging in. It exceeded mere 'friendship', yet was nowhere near a level that required consensual agreements on both of their parts.

Whatever it was, he didn't seem to mind it. Charles certainly wasn't pulling away, so neither would he.

The kisses were pleasant, but the ones beneath his nose tickled; his nostrils twitched and then flared in warning, foreshadowing impending danger.

"Be careful," he said, finding it best to at least give Charles a heads up. "I'll end up returning the favor if you keep doing that."

And Charles' clothes were far too nice and expensive to even consider sneezing against.

“Doesn’t matter,” Charles said, brushing a last kiss there before tucking his head against Erik’s shoulder so they fit together like puzzle pieces. “I am too. Sneeze all the bloody hell you want.”

He closed his eyes, content at being close enough to another person to hear and feel their breath. There was something so soothing about the sound of another person so close breathing in a steady rhythm; like a strange lullaby. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d simply lay still with another person, but it was nice. And he couldn’t deny that he felt a deep bond with Erik that seemed to intensify in this state of intimacy. Though Erik was far from what Charles would define as his ‘type’, he loved Erik beyond the confines of petty crushes. Maybe not love in the fully romantic way, but certainly in the realm of true friendship.

And if that friendship became something more someday….Charles couldn’t deny that Erik was a very good looking man. For now, he was happy to just lie with him, fending off illness and waiting out the rest of their journey.

Given the liberty to 'sneeze all the bloody hell' he wanted, Erik found that the lingering tickle was no longer present. It had retreated back into his sinuses, making him stuffy all over again. He sighed, feeling horribly unsatisfied.

Charles appeared to be getting quite cozy. Erik readjusted slightly, shifting a little higher, so that his chin rested on top of Charles' head. He, too, closed his eyes as he settled into a relaxing frame of mind.

Well, as relaxing as he could be with a clogged nose, heavy head, hurting ear, and tight chest.

A small noise rumbled in his throat. "Better this happen to us now rather then later," he said, referring to their colds.

While it wasn't necessarily okay to get sick in the first place, Erik was grateful that it had happened before they commenced bigger parts of their plan.

“Mhm,” Charles agreed drowsily. The medicine was making him sleepy and with Erik warm against him, he was quick to drop off, the weight of Erik’s chin comfortingly on the crown of his head and the steady rocking of the train relaxing him.

When he woke, he sputtered back to consciousness, coughing and snuffling, desperate to get air. His nose felt swollen and sore around the edges and he sat up, arm sliding out from around Erik, and reached for a tissue, blowing his nose gingerly.

Outside, the limits of the city were visible as the train entered Boston.

“We’re nearly there,” he said to Erik, voice slightly distorted by the tissue held over his face.

Erik had been drifting in and out of fever dreams for a while. When Charles awoke, he decided to rouse himself into full consciousness as well. He felt…hotter. Sicker. Heavier. His muscles ached beyond his ability to mask his discomfort.

Charles' voice was soft when he spoke, but he may as well have been shouting.

Wincing, Erik pushed himself into a sitting position. He attempted to breathe through his nose, but it was of no use. He sounded worse than a clogged drain. The gesture of sniffing alone brought on a coughing fit that came straight from the depths of his chest.

It hurt. Christ, did it hurt.

By the end of the spell he was bent at the waist and clutching his crackling chest. If he'd coughed any harder he was sure his lungs would have been on the floor.

He leaned back against the seat, his eyes glassy and half-lidded while his parted lips attempted to draw in the oxygen his inflamed nasal passages were denying him. His face was flushed and sweaty, and he was sure his nostrils were leaking, but he was far too ill to care.

Charles still didn’t feel well, but he felt better than he had the previous day. Erik, on the other hand, seemed worse. As soon as he sat up, Charles felt his stomach sink. The poor man looked like death. The coughing made Charles wince and he leapt to Erik’s side, putting one hand on Erik’s heaving chest and the other on his back where he patted gently. As the coughing died down and Erik went limp in the seat, Charles took a tissue and carefully dabbed at his friend’s nose.

Smoothing back his sweat-damp hair, Charles kissed Erik’s brow and continued tending to his nose with a few more gentle dabs.

“Erik,” he said quietly, putting the soiled tissue in his pocket. “Please, take some cold medicine. You sound like you have pneumonia, for christsake. It’ll make you feel better. I know why you dislike medicine, I do, but you’re worrying me. I’ll be right here with you. Nothing will happen to you, okay?”

He ran a hand down Erik’s broad chest, feeling the muscles there straining with each crackling breath.

Outside, the train station rolled into view.

“We’re here,” he said. “Straight to the hotel and into bed. No discussion.”

Erik's head was spinning. His vision seesawed horribly, making his empty stomach church. Dehydration also may have had something to do with the decomposition of his health, but he couldn't be sure. All he knew was how awful he felt and how much he wanted to rest.

He was stronger than that. He needed to get up. He needed to walk.

His legs shook when he eventually stood, leaning against Charles throughout the process. The man swayed and shivered, teeth chattering within the confines of his mouth.

"I just…need to sleep," he reasoned, even though they both knew that wouldn't be enough.

He may as well have been a living, breathing incarnation of fire; his skin burned to the touch. Still, he grabbed his bag (never once abandoning Charles as a crutch) as they made to exit the train.

Erik was heavy. And sweaty and off-balance and rather difficult for Charles to support, but he didn’t let Erik know it. Together, the pair made their way slowly out of the train and into the hustle and bustle of Boston’s South Station. Charles didn’t dare waste time, heading straight for a line of waiting taxi cabs and opening the door to the nearest one. Angling his shoulder, he managed to guide Erik into the seat and shut the door, circling around to the opposite side to get in.

“Copley Plaza Hotel, please,” he instructed. The driver took off, weaving in the heavy traffic, passing the Public Garden and heading for Copley Square. Charles put a hand over Erik’s in quiet reassurance.

It felt like ages before they stopped in front of the large stone hotel with its maroon awnings. The driver opened the door for Charles and he carefully guided Erik back upright, surrendering their luggage to the attending bellhop and heading for the lobby.

It was hard to distinguish between reality and the hallucinations his high fever was projecting. Erik floated between both realms, it seemed, as he relied on Charles to get them to wherever they were going. He was shivering violently at this point and steadily losing control of his mutation.

Objects of metallic composition began to tremble as they entered the lobby. Erik did his best to settle his abilities, but they wouldn't be tamed into submission.

He felt dangerously close to fainting when the corners of his vision began to go black. Childishly almost, he fisted the back of Charles' sweater and held it there, as if conveying that he had finally reached the end of his limit. Nearby, the wires of what was no doubt an antique piano began to curl on themselves, creating an atrocious sound amidst the keys.

Quickly, Charles distracted the minds of those nearby so that the building chaos from Erik didn’t get noticed. Taking their room key, he pulled Erik towards the elevator.

When the doors opened and they were inside, Charles leaned Erik against the wall and put his hand on either side of Erik’s head above his ears. The skin burned red-hot under his fingers as Charles worked to keep Erik from ripping the elevator to bits and sending them plunging.

By the time they reached the eighth floor, his head was pounding from the exertion, but he focused on Erik and carefully helped the taller man down the hall and into the room.

It was a nicely appointed suite with two large fluffy beds and a sitting area. Charles guided Erik down onto one of the beds and rushed into the washroom, pausing to blow his nose before soaking a towel in lukewarm water and returning to Erik’s side.

“Your fever is high,” he said, carefully lifting Erik’s head from the pillow and putting the cool tower around the back of his neck. A smaller washcloth in hand, Charles sponged Erik’s face, avoiding the raw sensitive bits around his scarlet nose.

It almost felt like everything was moving ten times faster than Erik perceived it. His consciousness became fragments; he could only see bits and pieces of reality at a time. There was an elevator, a hallway, and then a room. And now there was a bed.

He was freezing, but his skin was aflame. Were he able, he would have stripped off all of his clothing and wrapped his body in the sheets. At least then he would have been more comfortable.

As Charles tended to him, Erik closed his eyes. He could feel the dampness at the back of his neck, as well as the washcloth that was touching his face.

"I couldn't tell…"

Even in the worst condition possible he found a way to be sarcastic.

Folding the washcloth in thirds, Charles draped it over Erik’s forehead and pushed back his fringe, raking his fingers through Erik’s damp hair.

“I don’t know what else to do for you,” he confessed. “Please take some Tylenol, Erik. I promise it’s safe; I have a doctorate degree, for christsake.”

He could feel his own energy seeping away, the combined stresses of his illness and worrying about Erik taking their toll. His long suffering nose itched persistently and he turned his head away from Erik, sneezing into his shoulder.

Ehh’tghhht!

Not missing a beat, he snorted back congestion and turned his attention towards Erik once more.

Erik didn't doubt that Charles knew what he was talking about. He was aware that taking some Tylenol wouldn't kill him, but his distrust was far too deeply rooted to bother with budging. When his eyes eventually reopened, they were not the eyes of a grown man, but of a boy who had been through hell and back.

He'd lost count of all the experimental drugs he'd taken for the sake of 'science', when in reality the capsules were forced upon him just to see how they would affect his mutation. One medication in particular had left him violently vomiting for three days.

His fingers curled into the bedsheets.

"It's not…hihh…"

His sentence went unfinished when a poorly timed prickle in his sinuses made him aware that he needed to sneeze. Only, the fluttering sensation refused to develop. It lingered there, itching him horribly, wrinkling his nose and making his eyes water. His breath hitched.

He guided the back of his hand to his nose and scrubbed it against his wriggling nostrils, hoping the stimulation would extract the stuck sneeze. Anything to quell the terrible tickle.

“I know, I know,” Charles soothed, seeing the fear in Erik’s eyes. “Here.”

He plucked a tissue from the box on the nightstand and curled it over Erik’s nose, careful not to touch it too firmly for fear of hurting the chapped edges. He knew how awful his own nose felt, and he didn’t want Erik to suffer the same.

“Let it out if you need to,” he coached, holding the tissue steady and putting his other hand on the cold compress on Erik’s brow, keeping his head still.

The hand on Erik’s head sent a new burst of images into Charles’ mind; images of torture and hurt and anger. He felt a deep burning shame build in his throat.

“You don’t have to take anything,” he said, still holding the tissue at the ready. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of you. But you need to get this fever down, mate.”

Just when he'd lowered his defenses and accepted that his nose had calmed down for the time being, Erik snapped into the tissue and finally expelled the tormenting sneezes.

"Eh'DSHHkkshhih!…Eh'KKSHhhuiih! Hh…hh'ESSHhhuihh!"

Exhausted from the effort, he fell limp. His glassy eyes closed for a moment and then opened again, looking at his friend. As degrading and embarrassing as this might have been, he was somewhat okay with being looked after by Charles.

"A shower might help," he suggested tiredly, even if the thought of standing up made him woozy.

One of his hands extended to wrap around Charles' wrist to simply hold it there. The gesture was comforting in a way Erik couldn't explain.

Charles tugged the sodden tissue from Erik’s nose, balling it and dabbing away a bit of remaining moisture. As he lowered his hand, Erik’s curled around his wrist. He raised the arm and kissed Erik’s fingers.

“Bless you," he said. "Look, I don’t want to risk you in a shower. We both know I’m not strong enough to carry you if you slip or something. I think maybe into pajamas and I’ll re-wet these towels and we’ll get you more comfortable, okay? And some water- you should drink.”

He stood, gently unfurling Erik’s grip from his arm.

“I’ll fetch the water. You get changed. Shout if you need me.”

He took the compresses from Erik’s neck and forehead to re-wet and went into the washroom, shutting the door behind him to give Erik some privacy.

It took some strength he really didn't have to spare, but eventually Erik was standing again, albeit shakily. He used the wall for support as he removed his clothing. He was prepared to change into pajamas - as Charles had suggested - but his earlier thought of being cloaked in nothing but the sheets returned to him.

And so, dressed in nothing but his undershorts, he slipped back into the bed and drew the warm covers halfway up his bare chest. He shivered at first as his body temperature adjusted (or at least tried to adjust).

As he waited for Charles, Erik attempted to recall the last time he'd been so ill. His memories were foggy, but something told him it was just after he'd escaped from the camps. Back then he hadn't had a compassionate companion to take care of him. Now, however, he had one who perhaps cared a little too much.

With freshly dampened towels and a glass of cool water, Charles opened the washroom door tentatively, peeking out to make sure Erik was decent. He was bare-chested, but covered with the sheets.

“That looks comfortable,” he said lightly, returning to Erik’s side. His companion’s broad chest rose and fell with each shallow breath as Erik lay with head heavy on the pillow, looking like a ghost, pale against the crisp white sheets.

He spread the cool cloth back over Erik’s forehead and tipped the water glass to his lips.

“Drink,” he said.

And Erik drank.

He sipped the water slowly, appreciatively. It was clear that he had been thirsty. By the time the glass was empty and his throat was nice and wet from the cool drink, he looked at Charles and lowered a corner of the sheets invitingly.

"I may not be the best company right now," he said, his words thick with fatigue and congestion. "But there's room for you."

Having Charles close to him was something new and, to Erik's surprise, a soothing pleasantry. He may have been the worse of the two for now, but that didn't mean Charles was feeling in tiptop shape. The care-taking aspect was slowly becoming mutual.

"The offer is there," he concluded.

Kicking off his shoes and shrugging out of his jumper, Charles climbed into bed alongside Erik. He hadn’t realized just how exhausted he really was until he lay down and sunk into the soft mattress. The pressure in his sinuses shifted once more and he pushed his nose into the feathery pillow, sneezing wetly.

Hehh’ghxxttt!

“This is why I can’t have nice things,” he joked, flipping the pillow so he wouldn’t have to lie on the damp spot. He closed his eyes, a hand slipping down under the sheets and fingers twining through Erik’s.

He felt himself begin to drop off to sleep and fought the urge.

“You okay?” he asked Erik sleepily. The taller man was radiating heat under the blankets, much like dozing with a hot water bottle, Charles mused.

"Never better," Erik replied, coughing a bit.

He squeezed Charles' fingers with his own and then inched closer. He was certainly not the type to 'snuggle' - really, the word didn't exist in his vocabulary - but there was nothing wrong with tangling their legs together, or wrapping his free arm around Charles' waist.

His warm lips kissed a patch of pale skin on the other man's neck.

"It wasn't my intention to inconvenience you," he said with a thick, nose-wrinkling sniffle. "Your patience with me is impressive."

Smiling sleepily, Charles turned his head upwards, allowing Erik better access to the delicate bit of his neck.

“No bother,” he mumbled. “Couldn’t be helped. And I’m endlessly patient, you know that.”

His head was aching again, the medicines wearing off and the adrenaline burst from tending to Erik was fading fast. With a little whimper as a sharp burst of pain hit, he curled his body against the other man.

He desperately needed sleep. His eyelids felt like lead weights but even the dim light in the room seemed to permeate them. Slinging an arm over his face, he blocked out all light, but couldn’t get comfortable.

"It's a good thing. One of us has to be," Erik sighed, pressing one final kiss to Charles' neck before he drew back.

In spite of being clogged and painful, his ears picked up on the whimper of what was no doubt discomfort. He assumed Charles was beginning to feel the brunt of his illness again. Sympathetically, Erik kissed the corner of the telepath's mouth.

"You're no better off than I am," he observed, taking a second to reposition himself.

He turned on his side and cradled Charles' head against him, hoping to soothe the horrid headache the other was enduring by sending over relaxing waves of emotion and thought. In this process, he also began kissing Charles' temple, gently, in a way that contradicted his aloof nature.

“I’m fine,” Charles began to say, but Erik was kissing his temple, the soft skin tickling the small hairs that grew nearby. His head still ached, but Erik’s influence put sort of a hazy, warm feeling in his brain and the aching suddenly didn’t seem so bad.

And he was so warm.

“Erik,” he muttered. “I-”

He intended to say “I’m glad I’m with you,” but he was asleep before he could finish the thought.

He dreamed of strange and terrible things- mutants with unimaginable powers and a beach…some faraway beach. Even in sleep, he distinctly felt afraid. And when he woke later, he found one hand clenching the pillow so tightly his knuckles had gone white and his arm felt numb.

There was a warm presence at his side and he opened his eyes slowly, blinking away sleep.

Erik.

Erik had dreamed over the course of the night, but the images didn't appear to belong to him. He briefly wondered if Charles had unintentionally projected his own dream, thus sharing it.

As he drew closer to awakening, however, the pictures grew fuzzy.

Trapped in that beautiful limbo between sleep and consciousness, he rested. His fever had broken over the past few hours, making him feel better than he had in a day or so. His breathing was soft and lined with the faintest of congested snores, his long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks.

He had yet to release Charles. Their legs were still tangled beneath the sheets, his arm loosely coiled around the man's midsection. His features twitched but then relaxed again when he felt the body he held stir.

The sheets were slightly damp and when Charles finally got Erik’s face into focus, he smiled. Erik’s hair was soaked, stuck in strange patterns to his forehead. The worst of the fever had gone. He untangled his hand from the sheets and reached over, pushing the hair back.

It was sometime in the middle of the night, the lights of the city just barely visible through the hotel draperies. Squinting at the clock, Charles saw it was two.

“Feeling better?” he asked Erik. His voice was surprisingly hoarse, his cold moving down to his chest more as he recovered. His nose, for once, felt clear but dry and sore inside. Taking a tentative sniff, he discovered he could breathe fully through it, but the air tickled his sensitive sinuses and he felt a sneeze begin to build.

With a long, raspy inhale, his mouth dropped open in a vague expression and he turned away from Erik, raising the edge of the sheet to cover his nose.

Ehh’ghstttt! Hehh…Ehhh’ghssssssttt!

Tickle relieved, he began to cough; deep, rumbling coughs. If Erik wasn’t fully awake before, he would be now. Charles sat up, curling forward, shaking with each raspy bark.

Erik wasn't sure if Charles was actually speaking, or if he was simply dreaming the event. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard two shuddering sneezes, as well as some coughing following after. Blinking his eyes open, he looked at Charles, who was damn near ready to hack up a lung.

A hand found its way on the younger male's back, rubbing the area with hopes to soothe the violent fit. Erik was sitting up now, looking concerned. As horrible as the cough sounded, he knew that it was a good thing that it had broken from its dry form into a looser, wetter version.

"Not a very pleasant way to wake up," he commented, continuing to rub Charles' back before he moved over to his chest, repeating the gesture. "Are you alright?"

It was nice to be able to sit up without feeling as though his head were going to explode. Erik's chest still rattled, and his nose certainly needed to be blown, but he was grateful for the coherence that had returned to his clearing mind.

“Yeah,” Charles managed to gasp, the coughs lessening in severity. He cleared his throat and coughed a few more times, finally able to stop the fit. He was red in the face and sweaty from the exertion.

“Good evening,” he said, laughing a little. “Shit. That was rough.”

He plucked a few tissues from the nightstand and passed one to Erik before folding his own over his nose and blowing softly, a bit of congestion from the sneezes easily clearing.

“What do they call this bit?” he said, waving a hand vaguely over his face where his eyes were glassy and his nose leaked a little. “Rheumy? I’m onto the rheumy bit.”

With a last sniff, he tossed the tissue aside and leaned his head into Erik’s shoulder.

“It’s the middle of the night,” he said. “You can go back to sleep.”

Erik accepted the tissue and used both of his hands to hold it against his nose, where he blew productively. The mucus was easier to expel now that it was a touch runnier. He rubbed the soft paper into his nostrils with his index fingers, drying the wetness that remained.

He kept the balled tissue in one hand while his arm wrapped around the other mutant when he leaned on his shoulder. "I'm far too awake for that," he responded, sniffing.

Even though it was late, Erik felt as if they could busy themselves with something. He wasn't the type to fall back into slumber when awoken. Not very easily, at least. The question was, what could they have done?

There were very little places that were open at the present hour. He could have been imagining it, since he'd been rather delirious at the time, but Erik could have sworn they'd passed a café on their way to the hotel.

Given the popularity of the area, there was a good chance that it was open twenty-four hours.

"Something to drink?" he suggested, broadcasting his thoughts so Charles would be aware what he meant.

“I look horrid,” Charles said, scrubbing sleep from his eyes. “But I could do with something to drink. Maybe the bar downstairs, even?”

He flipped on the bedside lamp and stretched widely. His bones cracked in protest.

A cup of tea sounded splendid, actually.

“I’ll take the washroom first, then,” he said, swinging his legs out of bed and standing up shakily. He went into the lavatory and washed his face, observing how pale and tired he looked in the mirror. His lips and nose were both rosy, though, and there was a faint flush still in his cheeks. He cleared his nose further with a bit of toilet tissue and went back into the bedroom.

“All yours,” he said, gathering some clean clothes from his bag.

Erik forgot that he was practically naked beneath the sheets; it occurred to him only when he stood up and looked down. Brushing that aside, he strolled into the bathroom and took his turn cleaning up.

He rinsed some water in his mouth, as well as over his face, and used his wet hands to smooth back his tousled hair. Even styled his bangs refused to cooperate.

He entered the room again and sought out a pair of comfortable clothes. His selection consisted of a pair of pants and a long-sleeved shirt. He was closing his bag when he took note of the hat he'd brought along for whatever reason. Since his hair wasn't in the mood to behave, he adorned the casual fedora.

Dressed and ready, he waited for Charles at the door, idly knuckling his red nostrils. "It would be nice if the coffee here was as refined as the décor.

In clean clothes (his trademark corduroys and jumper with a henley underneath), Charles tucked a few spare tissues in his pocket and opened the hotel room door.

“Après-vous,” he quipped, gesturing for Erik to leave before him. He locked the room and they travelled down in the elevator to the lobby.

“This is one of the nicest hotels in Boston,” he said, admiring the shiny brass elevator with its ornate doors. “I stayed here once with my father when I was a child. I’m sure the Oak Room has excellent coffee.”

They alit in the lobby, heading for the hotel’s famed bar and restaurant. The bar was still open, but mostly empty, a few couples lingering at far tables. Despite being well-moneyed, it was one of the more elegant places Charles had even chosen to visit, with its oak-paneled walls and fine furnishings. He was more comfortable in a dive-y college pub, but this would do for a late-night drink.

“Boston isn’t much of a night-time city,” he told Erik, taking a seat in a comfy armchair on one side of a bistro table. “This is probably the only thing open in the area besides the local mini-mart. I think this place probably has a better cuppa.”

Unlike New York, where Charles had been numerous times (and disliked- WAY too many people to block out), Boston tended to shut down after midnight. It was a strange city; vaguely British but still drastically unlike anywhere he’d been in England. He’d enjoyed it greatly during his time studying at nearby Harvard.

Erik briefly felt as though he were on a tour with Charles being his guide. He settled into the chair across from his companion, glancing at the rather elaborate room. It was the first time he had experienced such an upper class setting, considering his own boarding selections had been limited to motels, and even hostels.

"I'll take your word for it," he said, folding his legs.

Edited July 6, 2012 by Dusty15

[Dusty15]

PART THREE:

Sure enough, when a cup of coffee did manage to find its way in front of him (courtesy of an attending bartender) Erik lifted it up to his nose and inhaled. The smell was inviting, appetizing even. He drank it black, sipping it slowly, appreciating the warm way it coated his sore throat and esophagus.

"Much better than what Maine had to offer," he commented, recalling the dirty water they called coffee back at the inn.

The man sat back while keeping his eyes on Charles. In truth, they really hadn't had the opportunity to spend time together outside of their mission. The telepath might have known everything about him, but Erik knew hardly anything about Charles. Outside of the few things he'd been told.

"You've traveled a lot?" he asked.

“I’ve been lucky,” Charles replied, bobbing his tea bag up and down in his cup. It wasn’t the proper way to brew it, but it was old habit by now.

“I’ve traveled rather extensively, though a lot of it was as a child and I don’t remember much. But I was in India before graduate school for some time and I did visit Israel for several weeks. And I’ve spent time in Tokyo and Santiago and Toronto. Actually, a rather decent chunk of time in Toronto…did a summer session at a university there. Lovely city.”

Scooping the tea bag out with his spoon, he gently rested it in the lip of his saucer and went about adding a drop of milk and a bit of sugar until it tasted right…or at least, tasted right to his still cold-addled taste buds.

“And you’ve been quite far,” he said. “Argentina, you told me. Where else?”

Contrary to Erik’s belief, Charles didn’t know a huge amount about Erik either. Obviously, he knew the deep and dark bits…the bits that concerned him insofar as Erik’s mutation was concerned. He wasn’t accustomed to ‘spying’ on people’s minds, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped. He’d been careful with Erik’s; as careful as he could be.

"Most of Europe," Erik answered. "And very little of North America."

Prior to meeting Charles, he had traveled solely for the purpose of gathering information on Shaw's whereabouts. He hardly had time to admire the sights or appreciate popular landmarks and world wonders in the process.

Another sip of his coffee had his throat feeling wonderful. Yes, this was exactly what he'd needed. Sleep wouldn't be difficult to find once they returned to their room.

A rogue itch in his nose reminded Erik that he was ill. Since there were drinks in front of them, he decided to make use of the cloth napkins that were folded on the table. Bringing one to his nose, he tried to be as considerate as possible.

"Heh'ISSHGGkfffmphh!"

The napkin succeeded in muffling the release, although it was most definitely audible. Retracting his face from the napkin, he set it in his lap and sniffed.

"The culture is very different here."

“Bless you,” Charles said. “It’s no different than the culture gap between, say, England and Germany. But it isn’t very European, I’ll give you that. If you think Boston is a culture shock, I suggest you reserve full judgment until we find a mutant out west and you’ve experienced some more of the States. Then, I think you’ll find that Boston feels rather European after all.”

He took a long sip of tea and set the cup down in the saucer gently. His nose was bothering him again and he rubbed at it idly. Perhaps they’d have to make a stop on the way to their next visit to pick up some Vaseline…his nostrils ached even when the rest of his nose wasn’t itching.

“Out of all the places in Europe you’ve been, which was your favorite?” he asked Erik.

"I was in Geneva for a while," Erik recalled, thinking back to his short time in Switzerland. Again, it was mainly to obtain information regarding Shaw. "The climate was favorable. I can't say the same about Scotland, however."

He was down to his last few sips of coffee. Instead of killing the hot beverage in one swallow, he decided to take his time and finish it off in two sips.

"If I can remember correctly, you completed your studies at Oxford, right?" he inquired, referring to the man's higher education. They had discussed that briefly a long time ago, but back then Erik wasn't into small talk.

“I did my Doctorate there, yes,” Charles replied. “I got my two Masters at Harvard, across the river from here, in Cambridge, actually. I didn’t really do an undergraduate…my first stint at Harvard was at 16, so I did a double degree to get the Bachelor’s out of the way. Oxford was, by far, the most difficult but the most interesting. I prefer England, anyhow.”

The itch in his noise that had been vaguely bothering him moments earlier was now significantly more insistent. He twitched it a little, contorting his face, until the sneeze was coxed out. Tucking an arm over his face, he pitched forward.

Ehh’ghshhht!

He dug in his pocket for a tissue, his other arm still held over his nose until he could make sure he could wipe it. Tissue safely in hand, he lowered the arm to blow his nose quietly.

“Did you ever get a chance to do University?” he asked, tugging the tissue off his nose and wiping it a bit.

"It wasn't on my list of priorities, to be honest," Erik answered, staring into the dark remnants of his coffee. "I had more time-consuming venues to tend to."

The brief schooling he had received was before he was taken to the camps, but even that had been inconsistent. There were times where, despite his mother's firm encouragement for him to attend school, he'd stay home and help her instead, making sure they had food to eat.

A few crackling coughs were trapped in his mouth before he muffled them into the shoulder of his shirt. He would be glad when his damn cold was done and over with.

“If you’re interested, I’m technically a professor now, so if you want me to set you up with some books and such when we’re back at the Manor, I’m happy to help if you want to eventually pursue a study. You know, in addition to the mutant training work,” Charles offered.

He wasn’t sure if Erik had any inclination towards higher education, but he put the offer out if it was wanted. His tea was now gone, warm in his belly, and he was beginning to feel the faint hints of sleepiness tugging at his eyes.

Erik was not the type to accept help from others, but coming from someone like Charles, he knew the man was being genuine and honest, not pitying. In a strange, unexplainable way it made him feel grateful and warm, but that wasn't something he planned to voice aloud.

"We'll see," he replied quietly, setting down his empty cup on the table.

An education would be nice as far as qualifications went, but he was more interested in pursuing his goals, which would involve every waking moment of his time once he finally confronted, defeated, and killed Shaw.

They were closed out within the next few minutes. Erik stood up, stretched a little, and then idly knuckled his nose. He could feel a faint itch somewhere in his sinuses, teasing him, but refusing to go any further. When Charles was ready, they headed back to the elevator to return to their floor.

When the doors closed, and not a moment sooner, the taller mutant turned towards his companion and acted on a passing whim. He extended his hand and framed one side of Charles' face, his palm warm to the touch. Then, tilting his head, Erik leaned in and pressed his mouth to the soft pair of rosy lips.

His reason for doing so? Nothing, of course. He'd simply felt like kissing Charles.

Surprised, Charles accepted the kiss, leaning upward into Erik’s embrace. His fingers traced up to Erik’s neck, a rush of strong emotions traveling from Erik’s head into Charles’.

The carefree nature of the thoughts caught Charles off-guard and he smiled against Erik’s lips. He’d never felt the other man’s emotions so entirely unguarded and…almost happy?

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, my friend,” he said as he pulled away from Erik a little, letting his head rest against Erik’s broad shoulder. The elevator reached their floor and Charles dug in his pocket for their key, unlocking the room.

They needed their strength for the work and travel the next day, and Charles tugged off his jumper, changing into a soft t-shirt and his pajama bottoms. Sliding under the covers with a clean tissue in hand, he flipped the blankets to the opposite side down.

“Stay with me?” he said as he put the tissue to his nose to clear it.

"I intend to," Erik replied, having removed most of his clothes again.

Because he wasn't nearly as fevered or uncomfortable as before, he slipped into bed in a pair of sweatpants and nothing more. He laid on his side, curling up against Charles, his lips finding comfort in the man's soft brown hair.

His nose, however, only found a stimulating irritant.

Charles' otherwise wispy locks were usually incapable of doing any harm, but tonight, and with Erik's nose as terribly sensitive as it had been, the strands of hair became the ideal tickling agent.

Nostrils wriggling, he turned around and openly sneezed the irritation out into the air, misting it.

"Ehh'SHHKkchhhh!"

He waited for a second, to see if another would follow. The sensation was definitely there, but unfortunately it died down again, leaving Erik sniffling in the aftermath. He turned back to Charles and spooned the telepath from the side, making himself cozy.

"It seems that I've developed an allergy to you," he teased, his words as dry as his humor.

Snaking a hand across Erik’s bare chest, Charles curled closer, like a cat against a warm radiator.

“I guess you’ll have to manage somehow,” he murmured, lips twisting into a smile. “You’re stuck with me.”

The last stronghold of the cold was still stuck in his chest and he coughed hoarsely, burying his mouth in the arm not clutching Erik. As the coughs died down, he sighed softly, trying to get comfortable again. The slow rhythm of Erik’s breathing rocked his head up and down as he rested against Erik’s chest, and soon he found himself dropping off to sleep.

The last thing Erik could recall was rubbing his hand over Charles' back until his arm went limp and his breathing evened out. Daylight came far too quickly, dancing over his eyelids, urging them to twitch and slowly blink open. He saw Charles sleeping beside him, looking peaceful.

He had to wonder, though. Prior to this particular recruiting trip, he had felt practically nothing for Charles. They were working together to pursue a common goal. That was all. But now, here he was practically entangled with the man in bed.

It wouldn't last, he knew, or rather convinced himself. When they returned to the military facility and resumed their plans to overthrow Shaw, he and Charles would go back to keeping their friendship purely platonic.

In the meantime, however, Erik would continue to give into more intimate desires. The back of his knuckles grazed over the sleeping mutant's face gently. He didn't wish to wake Charles by doing this, and if he did he had no intention to apologize.

Eventually, Charles began to stir. Erik’s touch was so unguarded that it sent deep waves through Charles’ mind at the simple contact. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, enjoying the gentle, warm emotions. Then, he opened them, slowly focusing on Erik’s face.

“Morning,” he said, turning his face to better nuzzle into Erik’s hand. “You feeling better?”

Charles was feeling much, much better, the hazy fog of his cold finally lifted. He glanced at the clock over Erik’s shoulder.

“It’s nearly nine. We should get going if we want to make this appointment.”

The very thought of moving made him groan a little. He couldn’t remember being so warm and comfortable.

"Now that I can actually breathe properly, I'm feeling exceptional," Erik replied, withdrawing his hand and rolling onto his back. His nose wasn't nearly as stuffy as it had been the past few days.

Charles' words had him thinking. Oh. That's right. They had somewhere to be, didn't they?

Distracted by his illness, and also his interest in Charles, he had nearly forgotten that they had a schedule to adhere to. Now that the idea was put back into his mind, though, he was getting out of bed and starting to get ready.

"I'll shower first," he said, having retrieved a fresh set of clothes from his bag.

Afterward, he walked into the bathroom and went about getting ready for their meeting with yet another potential recruit.

Charles followed suit, washing up after Erik and getting presentable for their next recruitment visit. Bags packed, mutants properly dressed, and hotel checked out of, they went on their way. As they sat in the subway car as they traveled to their destination, Charles glanced over at Erik with a small smile, feeling a warm affection spread down his limbs. It seemed not only had they recovered from their respective colds, perhaps they’d gained a little something new along the way.

[meff]

oh god thank you for posting the rest of this beauty.

[thegreatpretender]

Amazing! So happy i could read it!

[Salamander]

ASDFGHJKLKJHGFD perfect. Made me all warm and gooey without forcing either of them out of character. I'm in loooove.

[RSB]

Love this! Especially something about the way Erik never really acknowledges Charles' sneezing whereas Charles moreoften will say bless you to Erik's. Not sure why but a v nice detail

[Anonymouse]

This story has been my life for the past three days. Every little bit of spare time was devoted to reading this in small chunks.

Oh. My. Goodness. Guys. Srsly. Guys. Wow.

Usually I like to highlight the parts I liked best but I loved all of it, plus it's very long and I would probably end up writing a novel about how much I loved it. I'm glad it was long too - I never wanted it to end!

I cracked up at that first authoratative sneeze from Erik. I LOVED the spellings, very fitting for his character. And Charles's squeaky, squelchy ones were freaking adorable.

ON TO PARTS TWO AND THREE!

[Anonymouse]

*delighted squeaky noise* I love how Erik stifled on the boat... and almost uprooted the nails on the boat. What a great idea, to have his powers go a little haywire as he loses control. And I died of cute when he put his hand on Charles's leg after he had his own sneezing fit.

Erik hadn't anticipated an outside source touching his sensitive nose, which was, coincidentally, on the verge of expelling another sneeze. The straight bridge wrinkled, nostrils flaring greatly, before his head tipped back, chest expanding with fluttering breaths.

"Hhhih….hh…Eh'SKTCHHhhuhh!"

But if that didn't feel wonderful…

*dies*

Charles inadvertantly making Erik sneeze...

eee when Erik notices Charles's freckles. :wub:

This story was so goshdurn sweet I got the diabeetus.

[Spoo]

D'awwww. Thanks so much, Nony! This story will always have a fond place in my heart. And heh, you can thank Dusty for Charles' adorable squelchy sneezes. She's a fantastic writing partner!

[Dusty15]

Thanks all! I can't believe it's been over a year since we posted this one! It was a lot of fun to write.

[snuffles]

Amazingly all it took was a 3 second flash screen from deadpool to re-amp up my Charles/James McAvoy obsessive appetite that I had to look this back up and re-read it 3 times straight AGAIN! I've been quite helpless to do anything else in the meantime so I'm bumping this back up so i don't have to keep searching for it for a whiles!

 

And since I'm leaving a comment, I can't say anything coherent except to add that this hits allll the buttonsss. Like, alllll!!