XMFC/Erik the slave driver

[guideshapelead]

Going to sleep with food and drink in his stomach for the first time in a while, Charles sleeps far more deeply than he ever has since coming home from hospital. It's gone midday when he comes to again, the sun high in the sky and bleeding through his thick bedroom curtains.

Despite the long sleep, the telepath still somehow manages to feel utterly drained. He supposes it would be too much to hope, to suddenly feel better the second he decides to pull himself together and sort his life out. Burying his face into his pillow, it's with great effort that he makes himself press his fingers to his temple and seek out Erik, to let him know that he's awake. He knows the easier option would be to keep quiet, but he's determined not to fall back into that.

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[guideshapelead]

Shaking his head again, Charles is certain that this... this isn't Erik's fault. The bullet in his spine, yes. The fact that he can't feel his legs, also yes. But the weakness, the depression, the cough that feels like his whole body is about to shatter? That's his own doing. Erik hasn't forced him to mope and ignore the good advice of his friends.

"This is my own doing," he says, succintly, before starting to work his trousers up over his hips.

[diecastking]

Erik leans in close, ready to act as a support. Charles is visibly weakening before him, a startling flush spreading over his cheeks and neck.

Without thought, he wraps his hand around Charles' forehead again, concerned that what was previously unnatural warmth is now blistering heat.

"Perhaps," he says slowly, trying on the words. "it doesn't matter, as long as we find a way through."

[guideshapelead]

Through some extreme force of will, Charles manages to get his trousers around his waist and buttoned up with only minimal assistance, though doing so has sapped almost all of his energy. Every breath is a rattle in his chest as he lies his head back down on the pillow, skin flushed and clammy.

[diecastking]

Erik decides that Charles is going nowhere fast under his own power.

"You need to be more upright, Charles. You need to clear out your lungs. Pneumonia can be fatal and you, my friend, look like death."

Erik slides his arm beneath Charles' shoulders, but waits for permission before helping him up.

[guideshapelead]

Nodding that he's happy for Erik to move him, Charles tries his best to help as he's sat back upright, though his strength is fast deserting him. Letting his head drop down, he can't stop himself as the coughing starts up again, thick and foul-tasting mucus coming up from his lungs.

[diecastking]

Taking most of Charles' weight, Erik props his friend against his shoulder, dismayed at how weak Charles' is.

He keeps his voice low, a gentle murmur. "Catch your breath, Charles. Once you're in the chair, I'll take you down to the study. I believe I was about to thwart your queen before..."

He hesitates, words catching in his throat: "Before we left."

[guideshapelead]

Laughing through the coughs at Erik's words, Charles accepts the support and tries to force his breathing back under control, wiping his lips clean.

"I doubt I will pose much of a challenge to you today, old friend."

[diecastking]

Erik smiles, despite everything, and manouevres the chair into position with a flick of his index finger.

"Don't make me play with Hank, Charles," he says smoothly, raising the arm of the wheelchair with his eyebrow. "It's cruel to make the child weep."

Erik reluctantly slips away from Charles, moving Charles' hand to grip the opposite chair arm. He moves to the other side of the chair and reaches out to take hold of Charles' body once more. "Ready?"

[guideshapelead]

Charles doesn't have the strength left to even pretend he's going to heave his own weight into the chair, and so meekly nods at Erik's question. He's resigned himself to being lifted, though it doesn't stop him feeling embarrassed about the situation.

[diecastking]

In one swift movement, Erik pulls Charles across and into his chair. The arm flicks down and Erik seizes a blanket from the end of the bed, tucking it over Charles' knees with more energy than was strictly required.

He knelt at Charles' feet and carefully slid on his slippers, finally looking up at Charles in satisfaction.

"Quite the professor."

[guideshapelead]

"I'm only just 30, Erik," Charles frowns as he has a blanket draped over his lap, slippers placed on his feet. He'd complain more forcefully, but he does actually feel rather cold.

"I feel like a grandfather."

[diecastking]

"You feel like a man with a fever," Erik corrects gently.

He stands and circles the chair, placing his hands on the handles for show. "Where did you get this? You can't move yourself with this."

[guideshapelead]

"Hank made it," Charles tells him, relaxing back into the seat he's been placed in.

"I'm sure he saw some use in it."

[diecastking]

Erik bites back a comment about Hank supposedly designing a bulletproof suit and pushes Charles out into the corridor and towards the lift.

"This chair requires someone to push you." Erik tries to force levity. "And my back is not what it used to be, Charles."

[guideshapelead]

"Now who's the old professor?" Charles manages an honest laugh at that, folding his hands in his lap for want of something better to do with them.

"I'm sure Hank can design something more practical."

[diecastking]

Erik wrinkles his nose at the idea of being a professor. "I don't believe I have anything to teach."

The lift shudders to life, carrying them down to the ground floor.

"Even I could design something more practical, Charles. This looks like something from H.G. Wells." He thinks on how his wheelchair would look - lower to the ground, larger wheels - with firm grips for Charles' hands, probably clad in those ridiculous fingerless gloves.

The chair's metal quivers under his fingers, ready to move in whatever way he wants.

[guideshapelead]

"I would appreciate it, Erik, if you don't start bending the chair while I'm in it," Charles comments, feeling the way the metal's thrumming beneath him.

[diecastking]

Erik pulls back his hands and the metal thrum dies away. "Ah. Yes, perhaps now is not the time."

He reins in his powers completely, replacing his hands on the handles and pushing solely with his arms.

Thinking on, he says, "We should strip off some clothes."

[guideshapelead]

"Excuse me?" Charles raises his head, tries to twist and look back at Erik's face.

"I've only just managed to get myself dressed."

[diecastking]

"I can feel the heat coming off you from here, Charles. Unless you're looking for a new career as a furnace, I think that jumper should go."

Erik manoeuvres Charles into his study, with the chess table to one side and a view across the still-frosted lawn to the other.

[guideshapelead]

If anything, Charles feels cold, like someone's left a window open in the study he hasn't seen in weeks. But he's also an intelligent man - a graduate of Biology - and he understands the mechanisms of a fever just as well as Erik, or Hank. And so he grudgingly accepts what the other man is saying, and starts to remove his sweater.

[diecastking]

Erik waits patiently before taking the sweater and folding it over what he thinks of as Charles' chair. Not that Charles will be using it anymore - and that thought sends an odd chill through his body.

"Is there something you'd like to do?"

[guideshapelead]

"I thought you wanted Hank to examine me, again," Charles asks. It's not something he wants to happen, but since he sees it as an inevitability, he'd rather get it out of the way sooner rather than later.

[diecastking]

Erik curls his hand around Charles' shoulder. "I want many things, Charles. A great many things," he says cryptically and then goes to find Hank.

The boys are all sitting on the front porch, supposedly on watch, and they look up at his approach. Hank is openly hostile, but Alex is almost welcoming and Sean doesn't seem quite so afraid. He may yet earn their trust.

"I fear Charles has developed a pneumonia from his self-imposed exile. Would you-?"

Hank nods curtly and disappears back into the house. Erik motions the other two away and takes the watch himself, removing an illicit cigarette from his jacket pocket. What Charles doesn't know and all that.

[guideshapelead]

Charles manages a smile as Hank appears in the doorway of his study, and despite the shame he feels at being fussed over by the man who he still considers one of his children, he bears it all politely and stoically. It's not until he's left alone again, with orders to keep active but not to over-exert himself, and to cough up whatever he can, and with a promise of drugs to come, that he lets himself slump back down in his chair.

He feels ready for bed again, already.