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]

"I'll be fine," Charles repeats before starting to cough again, the muck in his lungs filling his airways and making breathing even harder.

[diecastking]

Erik leans them both forward, arm coming round the front of Charles' chest for him to brace himself as he coughs.

"Oh, certainly. You're the very picture of fine, Charles."

[guideshapelead]

Unable to prevent the inevitable, Charles coughs up a good deal of the filth sitting heavy in his lungs, clamping a hand to his mouth like he's about to be sick. He supposes there's not much different.

[diecastking]

Erik extricates the mug of tea from Charles' grasp and fishes a handkerchief out of his back pocket, pressing it into Charles' hand.

Then, he just holds him through the coughing, hating the sound of it.

[guideshapelead]

Unable to help the loud gulp for air as he finally manages to stop coughing, not caring how undignified he's being, Charles wipes his mouth with the hankerchief and keeps it clasped in his palm. He doubts Erik wants it back now, anyway.

"I'm sorry," he apologises, collapsing back against Erik's chest.

[diecastking]

Erik settles them both back against the arm of the sofa, arm still firmly clasped across Charles' chest.

"Don't be absurd, Charles."

[guideshapelead]

"You shouldn't have to be doing this," Charles continues, regardless. He's still wheezing painfully, but the coughing fit does feel as if it's loosened up his airways slightly.

"You should be... doing your own thing. Not looking after me for my own stupidity."

[diecastking]

Erik tenses. They both know what "doing his own thing" involves - killing Shaw, aiming missiles, shooting his best friend in the back.

This is the first time he's felt the war hanging between them, the realisation that this is a brief respite before they once again find themselves on different sides. Which is inevitable - haven't they already proved that?

"At this time," he says slowly, "this is exactly where I need to be."

[guideshapelead]

Sighing, aware that this is a conversation that will never reach a satisfactory conclusion, Charles just lets himself nod.

"And I am glad of it, my friend."

[diecastking]

He may not be a telepath, but he can read Charles' thoughts in the tense line of his shoulders and the soft sigh escaping his lips.

"We can...talk about it when you're well."

And he sinks into the sofa cushions, drawing Charles closer to him. For now.

[guideshapelead]

Sean's reaction to seeing him in his current state has made Charles want nothing more than to get back in his chair, to force himself to do more, but he's too weak to even fight against the way Erik's holding him.

Too tired to fight, he lets the embrace happen, eyes closing again.