xmen_firstkink

Reposted prompt and fill from 1stclass_kink: http://1stclass-kink.livejournal.com/7761.html?thread=15407953#t15407953

Prompt:
So Erik starts dating Charles, a human, and he's all embarrassed about it but then, BWAHREVELATIONANDLIFECHANGINGVIEWCHANGE, an he loves him regardless and is proudly showing off his very human lover.

BUT THEN: (Oh no!)

Charles' mutant abilities pop up. (Late bloomer?) And Charles immediately shows Erik, thinking about how happy he will be to not contradict his beliefs by screwing a normie.

But Erik hates it.
But not because of the mutation itself, he just doesn't like that Charles has one, because now Charles is a BAMF and doesn't need Erik to protect him all the time. (And Erik was always slightly turned on how he would always be stronger than weak Charles; kinda like a size kink) So Erik feels unneeded because Charles can just cancel out his powers (Erik's) with a thought and broods.

He won't speak to Charles, whenever Charles enters a room he leaves, etc.

Charles thinks Erik doesn't like his mutation and tries to suppress it, trying to fit in again but that only make Erik even more irritated, Erik thinking Charles is uncomfortable with his gift. (Mutant and Proud!)

So misunderstandings all around and stuff, but eventually happy ending and lovely cuddle time on the couch?

Bonuses:
Manly tears from them both as they make up
It's in front of all of Erik's tough, Super-Pro-Mutant buds

The warning is for a small but recurring theme, in general this is pretty fluffy but better safe than sorry. This is a repost of a WIP, about 35 parts to post all at once in the right order and in the right place, wish me luck!

‘Emma, in her cheerleading skirt, on the hood of my car,’ Azazel says musingly. ‘I suppose Raven could look as good, but Emma’s got to be dirtier. She can see your fantasies, y’know. Hey, Erik, what do you think?’

‘Dude, Erik doesn’t get a vote,’ Riptide objects.

Erik glances up. He’d zoned out of the conversation completely but it’s not exactly hard to work out where it’s coming from. ‘Yeah, not my thing, unless she’s grown a dick since I last saw her,’ he says.

‘Aw, are we boring you with our manly talk?’ Havok asks. Erik glowers at him until his grin falters. ‘Fine, fine, my bad, subject change.’ He pauses thoughtfully. ‘Hey, did you hear about Seb Shaw over at Bellshire High? He got suspended for not giving a blood sample. Angel told me that now they’ve got a twenty foot crater in their football field.’ He mimes the hole with a satisfied gesture. ‘Of course, they properly kicked him out for that. Maybe he’ll end up here.’

Azazel shrugs. ‘Dumb,’ he says. ‘That shit doesn’t help anything.’

Refusing to give blood is actually illegal, and it pisses Erik off every single time. He gives Azazel a level look. ‘If you’re not willing to get your hands dirty you’re welcome to go cosy up to the norms. Or sit and wait till they cut off your tail and put you in a cage.’

Azazel glares at the floor. ‘I’ll get my hands dirty. Just not by blowing symbolic holes in football fields.’

‘Besides, Seb Shaw’s a psycho. You know that, Erik, it’s practically your mantra,’ Riptide says.

Seb Shaw is a psycho, and personally Erik hates his fucking sadistic guts, but at least Seb doesn’t plan on letting mutants be registered and regulated like criminals, and experimented on like animals. Not by weak little humans.

He looks around the halls of thronging students. In high school the mutants are the alpha group. Emma rules the cheerleading squad and Erik rules the football team, everyone thinks their powers are cool, and nobody dares to mess with them. But it won’t always be high school. That thought keeps him awake at night sometimes. And there are the blood tests and the other tests, to make sure they’re not getting too strong. Seb’s got the right idea, they’ve got to take things into their own hands someday.

Yeah, Seb’s right. If only he wasn’t such an asshole.

Erik sighs. Halls packed with students, and under 3% mutants. All these humans. It’s so much to go up against.

At that moment they’re passing a shrimpy kid that Erik vaguely recalls noticing in a couple of his classes, standing out somewhat for his sensitive face and air of gentle curiosity. He’s pretty cute, but he’s a human, so… yeah, Erik’s not going to hit that.

He walks on by. Riptide, however, turns and glares. He shoots out an arm and snags him by the collar, jerking him sideways. Suddenly finding himself jammed up against a locker, the kid gives a little grunt of surprise and blinks up in bewilderment. He has bright blue eyes, oddly innocent, and looks helpless as a kitten.

‘Hey I know you,’ Riptide says, ‘you’re that transfer student from England that keeps bugging Darkholme.’ He twiddles a finger in the air making a mini tornado under the kid’s nose, and grins at Erik. ‘This one needs to learn a little lesson, I think. You like mutants, huh? Think you can go after one of ours?’

The kid raises his hand as though to scrabble at Riptide’s wrist, then obviously thinks better of it. ‘We’re friends, that’s all,’ he says, with a surprising amount of composure for someone pinned by the collar and menaced by a microclimate. Despite himself, Erik is kind of impressed. Also, he has a very sexy accent.

‘Sure, you little normie pervert,’ Riptide says. His voice takes on a sing-song, condescending tone. ‘Now, you’re going to be a good human and tell me that you’ll keep away from her, aren’t you?’ He twirls the tornado a little larger so the kid has to tilt his head backwards, hard against the metal. His face shows clearly that he’s scared but he presses his lips together determinedly.

Riptide laughs. ‘No? You’re a troublemaker, are you? You know, I really hate to do this…’

‘Shut up, Rip,’ Erik says, without quite knowing why. ‘Leave him alone.’

Riptide looks round in confusion, his tornado fading into a puff of air. ‘What the fuck, Erik?’

The others all stare as if he’s grown another head, like that kid in chem class. Erik scrambles to cover up the bizarre lapse. ‘Seriously, look at him,’ he manages. ‘He’s already so pathetic that I’m ashamed to be related to his species. Don’t make it any worse.’

It's kind of weak, but they seem to buy it. Riptide grins and Azazel laughs nastily. ‘True. All humans are pathetic, but I’ll admit this one’s ahead of the curve. Drop it, Rip, or he’ll go whining to Principal McTaggart.’

‘Yeah, come on,’ Havok says. ‘It’d be fun to blow his head off but it’s kinda not worth it.’ He checks his watch. ‘I want a burger anyway, we’ve got time before class if we hurry.’

Riptide lets go, giving the kid a final shove that sets him stumbling and sends his messenger bag slithering to the floor. ‘You’re hungry again?’ he complains. ‘Fuck, Havok, can’t we feed you through a drip or something?’

‘Screw you. Laser beams take energy.’

‘You haven’t been shooting any laser beams,’ Azazel points out reasonably.

The three of them straggle, bickering, towards the cafeteria. Erik hangs back, watching until they’re a safe distance away.

When he turns round the kid is calmly straightening his blazer. ‘Thanks,’ he says, ‘that was unexpectedly nice of you.’ He smooths back his rumpled brown hair with one hand and crouches on his heels to recover a pile of magazines that slipped out of his bag.

Erik reaches for the one nearest his foot. New England Journal of Medicine. Huh, heavy stuff. Brave, smart and cute. Unfortunately he’s sniffing after Raven, which means he’s straight. Plus he’s genetically inferior. It’s a shame.

‘Yeah, well don’t get used to it,’ he says gruffly, standing up and handing over the journal. ‘Stay out of our way, norm. You’d better stop hanging out with Raven or you’ll have to deal with worse than those little bitty tornados.’

The kid smiles ruefully. ‘Sorry, I can’t do that, even if I am only a pathetic human. But I’ll watch my back.’ He sticks out a hand. ‘I’m Charles, by the way. Charles Xavier’

Erik glances around warily.

‘Come on, nobody’s watching,’ Charles says, amused.

Erik takes his hand. ‘Erik Lehnsherr.’ Charles’s grip is firm and warm.

‘Well, thank you again Erik. I expect I’ll see you around.’ He smiles again, blindingly this time.

Not if I see you first, Erik thinks. Those innocent eyes are unsettling, somehow. They make him feel uncertain, self-conscious, like he’s constantly on the verge of blushing.

No, he’ll be staying well clear of Charles Xavier.

Well, he means to, anyway. His good intention lasts two whole days.

‘This is your own fault,’ Erik says crossly. ‘I warned you.’ He’s annoyed with himself too. If he hadn’t snuck round behind the kitchens for a smoke he would never have got involved.

‘Yes, you did,’ Charles says, picking a strand of spaghetti off his nose. ‘Would you give me a hand, please?’

Erik hauls him out of the dumpster and Charles squelches to the ground with obvious relief. ‘Thank you,’ he says feelingly. ‘You make a good knight errant.’ He peers sadly into the neighbouring dumpster. ‘My bag’s in this one. Yuck. I think I’d rather get a new one than go digging around in there.’

Erik fumbles with his mind and finds the familiar shape of a strap adjustor. He concentrates. The bag rises from the depths and hovers in front of Charles. It doesn’t look too bad, only a few stains that will probably wipe off, or at least dry into something that doesn’t smell.

Charles reaches for it and smiles delightedly. ‘Groovy.’

Erik stares at him. ‘Groovy? What decade are you from?’

‘Well it is groovy,’ Charles says, with the tiniest of pouts.

‘It’s the awesome power of a god, Charles,’ Erik says patiently. ‘It’s what makes me innately superior to you pitiful second-rate humans. I will not submit to being called groovy. Not by someone with gravy in his hair.’

Charles touches his head gingerly. ‘Really? Where?’

‘Everywhere. What happened?’

‘I’d have thought that was obvious,’ Charles says, wrinkling his nose. He looks a bit like a squirrel. It’s a surprisingly good look for him.

Erik sighs. ‘Who did it?’ He’d only caught sight of retreating backs and it had seemed more important to save Charles from drowning in garbage.

‘They didn’t introduce themselves,’ Charles says seriously. Then he sees Erik’s impatient expression and tapping foot and gives in, grinning. ‘Alright, if you must know. It was your friend from the other day, the one with the tornados, and a rather terrifying person with a cigarette lighter. But they didn’t mean any harm. I mean, he didn’t actually set me on fire, did he? And I suppose I am making waves, being friends with Raven, but she’s lovely and I don’t know many other people.’ He glances up. ‘Oh, look, speak of the devil…’

Erik spins around. Raven Darkholme is sprinting around the corner, looking exceedingly pissed off.

‘Charles,’ she calls, ‘are you alright? Someone told me-’ Then she sees Erik and breaks off, skidding to a halt a few feet away. ‘You total jerk,’ she snarls, flipping her scales and growing at least a foot in both directions. She looms over him as a hulking bouncer type, all shiny shaved head and tattoos. ‘You’re going to regret this, what did Charles ever do to you?’

Only smiled at me, Erik thinks irritably.

‘I’m really ok,’ Charles says, but she pays no attention, still focused on Erik.

‘Raven, there’s a metal dumpster full of garbage right here,’ Erik reminds her, juddering it warningly. ‘You don’t want it tipped all over you. Calm the fuck down, I didn’t do anything to your precious human boyfriend.’

‘Bullshit. Look at him.’

Erik does. Charles looks ridiculous, smeared with tomato sauce and covered with unidentifiable scraps, but his sunny smile is back in place. He seems pretty much unconcerned at the state he’s in. Erik gives him a meaningful help me out here look. Charles looks innocently back. ‘You did call me a pitiful second-rate human,’ he points out.

Raven growls and advances.

‘I was joking,’ Erik says, exasperated. ‘For god’s sake, Charles, tell her.’

Charles relents and nods, grinning impishly. ‘He really was. We were getting on famously, actually.’

Raven slowly deflates back to schoolgirl size, looking puzzled. ‘Seriously? You can’t have been. Erik doesn’t get on famously with humans, he’s the school’s notorious crazed mutant supremacist.’

Erik scowls. He really isn’t. Notorious, yes, pro-mutant, yes, crazed, no. Or no more than he needs to be to scare the plebs into submission.

She prods at his arm suspiciously. ‘You can’t be Erik. Are you another shape-shifter in there?’

‘Watch it, Darkholme.’ Erik shakes the garbage again, partly as identity confirmation and partly to emphasise that he doesn’t put up with this shit from tiny little sophomores.

She glares up into his face, her little nose twitching with anger. ‘No, I won’t watch it,’ she snaps. ‘If you didn’t do this to Charles then it was your horrible friends. It’s still your fault, they just imitate you like monkeys.’

‘Now, come on Raven,’ Charles says. ‘Erik’s done nothing but look after me.’

‘Oh, you’re buddies now? He’d never be seen in public with you, though,’ Raven says, jabbing an accusing finger. She’s back in her favourite pretty blonde shape but her eyes glitter yellow. ‘You just watch, next time you meet in the hallways. Or you could try to sit at his table at lunch, then he’d have to stab you with the cutlery. He’s a bigot,’ she spits.

Erik grits his teeth. Little know-it-all brat. ‘I am not a bigot, and Charles is welcome to sit with me at lunch.’ Then he suddenly realises what he’s said. Fuck. Seriously, fuck, because Charles is smiling like he’s been given a puppy.

‘I can?’ he says. ‘That’s great, I’d love to.’ God, he’s standing there in the shadow of a dumpster into which he’s just been thrown by Erik’s friends, still dripping goo onto the tarmac. There is no way anybody should look so happy in this situation.

No, you really can’t, Erik thinks sickly. Unfortunately Charles’s smile is making fluttering feelings through the pit of his stomach and the words won’t seem to come out of his mouth. ‘Yeah,’ he says weakly, ‘sure.’

Raven shoots him an incredulous glance and yes, it is kind of unbelievable. He sits with Rip, Azazel and Havok, plus Emma, her cheerleading minions Angel and Jubilee, and any of the younger mutants that are in favour. Humans are not welcome, not even the guys from the football team.

‘We are so holding you to that. Tomorrow.’ She glares.

Erik looks back at her coldly until her eyes flicker back to blue and she drops her gaze. ‘Come on Charles,’ she says resentfully, and stalks away.

Charles turns to follow her, then pauses. He blinks shyly up at Erik. ‘Um, by the way,’ he says, a little flushed, ‘you called me her boyfriend. Well, I’m not. Just so you know.’

‘Charles!’ Raven yells.

‘See you tomorrow!’ Charles says, ‘I’m looking forward to it. Oh, and thanks again for the knight errant thing.’ Then he’s gone.

Erik slumps back against the wall and fumbles for his delayed cigarette. Tomorrow. Oh crap, how the hell is he going to explain this?

But for some reason he finds himself smiling.

Charles is not Raven’s boyfriend, and Charles had looked at Erik like… like he was the kind of person it was great to be allowed to sit with. Like, despite the bunch of mutants that would be at the table, all busily despising him, with Erik there Charles wouldn’t be afraid.

It felt really good, to be looked at like that.

‘Man, your credibility is gonna go through the floor,’ Havok says mournfully. ‘I mean, we like you and all, but you can’t ask Raven’s human stalker boyfriend to come sit with us. What are people supposed to think?’

‘They’ll think what we tell them to think.’ Azazel stretches out his tail and flicks the tip at Erik. ‘It’s just some stupid bet. You’re the boss. We can make nice with the lesser beings for one day.’

‘Fuck that,’ Riptide growls, ‘We toss him back in the garbage where he belongs. You can bring him, Erik, but I’m going to make him sorry he came.’

‘Do and I’ll cut off your balls while you sleep,’ Erik says calmly, ‘with your toenail clippers. Messily.’

The others smirk. Riptide scowls. ‘Go fuck yourself Erik,’ he snaps. Then, in a regrettably audible undertone, he mutters, ‘Norm-lover.’

There’s a stifled silence. ‘Shit,’ Havok murmurs, very quietly.

Erik feels the muscles in his back stretching themselves out. Suddenly he feels beautifully relaxed. He smiles. ‘Hey, Rip?’

Riptide looks uncomfortable. ‘Come on Erik, it’s fucking ridiculous,’ he protests.

‘What did you just call me, Rip?’ Erik asks gently. With a leisurely flick of his mind, he brings his favourite chunk of iron slithering out of his bag.

Riptide swallows. His gaze flicks from the metal to Azazel and Havok, then back to Erik. ‘Look, don’t be a dick about it.’

‘Because I thought I heard you say something just now. Was I wrong?’ Erik says.

‘Jesus… look, yes, you were wrong. Just forget it.’

‘I don’t think I was,’ Erik says, letting his voice go cold. The iron snaps out from ball to sheet in a split second.

‘Holy crap,’ Havok says involuntarily. Erik bites down on a smile. He’s practiced this and it’s pretty goddamn impressive. It’s actually nice to get a chance to try it out.

‘Erik,’ Azazel says warningly.

‘This is going to make a sphere around your head, Rip,’ Erik says, ‘and then it’s going to contract until the metal touches your skin everywhere. You know, like a mask, except without the holes.’

Havok whistles, grinning manically. ‘Dude, that’s really fucking cool.’

Riptide is white under his tan. ‘Fuck you,’ he says shakily.

‘Don’t worry,’ Erik says, cranking up the smile, ‘I can do it to within a millimetre. It won’t hurt you at all. Breathing might be a little difficult though.’ He moves his sheet towards Riptide then slides it round behind him. The sides are already beginning to curve.

‘Enough, Erik, he gets the point,’ Azazel says, ‘Don’t you, Rip?’

Riptide finally drops his pretence at bravado and nods hurriedly, twisting his head round to keep tabs on the metal. ‘Seriously, point taken. That was out of line. If you want the human you can have the human, no big deal.’

‘You know,’ Erik says cheerfully, ‘I thought you’d say something like that.’ He snaps the metal back into a ball and catches it neatly.

Havok bursts out laughing. ‘Oh fuck, Rip, your face. That was awesome, I should’ve got it on camera.’

‘Fuck off.’

Even Azazel grins. ‘Yeah, well you deserved it.’ He leans back in his chair, tail-tip twitching with amusement. ‘So, we’re all agreed? We’re ok with Raven’s boyfriend joining us? We gonna be nice and inclusive?’

Riptide shrugs. Doesn’t matter,’ he says, with bitter satisfaction, ‘Emma’s going to fuck him up anyway.’

Havok shrugs. ‘Can't argue with that. What can you do? Women.’

When the bell goes, Erik heads to his last class feeling a little better. He’s got over the worst, getting the guys in line, but unfortunately Riptide’s final comment is depressingly true. Emma is going to be her normal bitchy self, unless by some miracle Erik happens to have something she wants.

As it turns out, he does. He has entertainment value.

When he corners her after class to explain the situation she sits and listens sweetly, then pats him on the arm.

‘Oh Erik!’ She gives an infuriating tinkling little laugh. ‘That’s priceless, you big sap.’

‘What?’ he snaps. ‘Look, just leave him alone, that’s all I’m asking.’

She blinks limpidly up at him. ‘I think it’s just adorable. Your blue-eyed boy blinks and all your self-righteous convictions crumble by the wayside. I’ll leave him alone, sugar, if you promise to invite me to the wedding.’

‘It’s a bet, Emma,’ Erik grinds out. ‘He’s a token human. It could have been anyone.’

‘Is someone repressing his feelings?’ she coos. ‘You poor boy, you can talk to Auntie Emma.’

Erik fixes his mind on a picture of something extremely violent and bloody, involving Emma, three metal javelins, several lengths of cheese wire and multiple amputations. It’s something he’s had numerous occasions to perfect.

She doesn’t even flinch, just laughs again. ‘Lurid imagery. I’ve always said you had an artist’s soul under that ruggedly handsome exterior.’ She pats him again. ‘I’ll make sure the girls don’t ruin your date. Now, must dash. Oh, and wear the black turtleneck. It makes you look gorgeous and just as gay as can be.’

She flits.

Erik moans, torn between relief (at least she won’t fuck up Charles) and black despair (no, she’ll fuck Erik royally instead). Despair wins out. Nothing, nothing is more terrifying than Emma Frost when she finds something funny.

And now he’s got an appointment at the test centre. It’s really not his day.

***

The Mutant Health Clinic, as it’s implausibly called, is halfway across town. Erik calms down a bit on the drive, but he’s still buzzing when he gets there. He signs in under the glower of the starched-up receptionist and kicks his heels in the waiting room until he’s called.

The doctor, standing silhouetted against the harsh fluorescent lights, is Stryker. Of course it is.

The guy makes his skin crawl, with his weirdly intense breathing, his clammy hands and his coldly calculating eyes. He ushers Erik into the testing room with mindless pleasantries and a smile that splits his face like a crack in a plate. Ugh.

‘And how are we doing today? Ready to show us what you’ve got? Such a rare gift you have, it’s a privilege to watch it develop. Come on in now, you know what to do. Start with the pure iron, please.’

The metal blocks are lined up on the table. They’re indefinably soothing, with their different weights and concentrations making rippling and overlapping dimples in his awareness. Erik dutifully moulds, folds, separates and melds, his mouth still twitching with distaste at Stryker’s presence. Finally they get to the bit he enjoys, which is going outside onto the training field and flinging shit up into the air. He sends the heaviest of the blocks spinning in a wild scything arc and closes his eyes, feeling its motion and letting himself sink for just a moment into the warmth of the Earth’s own magnetic field. Then he sends another block into the air and just concentrates on slamming things upwards as hard as he can, relishing the juddering shock as he catches them inches from the ground. It’s cathartic, and right now he’s got an awful lot to get out of his system.

By the end of it he’s panting and exhausted, almost too tired to stow the blocks away again, but he’s surprised at how much he managed. He was tested just a month ago. It seemed a lot easier this time. Afterwards, sitting on the bed in the exam room, he sneaks a glance at the clipboard.

He blinks. No, seriously? He cranes to read the figures again. Shit, that’s different. It really can’t be right.

‘Alright Erik, shift over and give me your arm.’ Mike-the-nurse pats him on the shoulder. ‘This’ll only take a moment.’

He rolls up his sleeve automatically, intensely aware of the needle on the tray at his elbow, and even more aware of the incriminating numbers on the paper. He should be levelling out by now, not getting stronger. It must be the mood he’s in, he tells himself unconvincingly. Tension helps him focus his energies.

Stryker strolls in as the Mike is drawing the blood. ‘A remarkable increase, Mr Lehnsherr,’ he says, flipping through the charts. ‘I’ll be most interested in next month’s tests.’

He’s just a fat, greasy, powerless human but his smile is wolfish. The teeth seem to creep closer and closer, like they’re trying to scramble out of his mouth. Erik looks away, down at his arm and the needle and the dark red welling of blood into the tube.

‘We’ll have to try something a bit more challenging, I think,’ Stryker continues heartily. ‘Perhaps I’ll bring some colleagues along to observe, with your permission, of course.’

‘Whatever,’ Erik says. His chest feels tight. Seb had said something, back when they’d been friends, before the thing with the… with the cats. They’re testing your strength, right? he’d said, almost smugly, like Erik was stupid for not understanding right off. Well, what happens to you if you get too strong?

It hadn’t seemed important at the time. Who could get upset over a kid who pushed pennies around, or one who could hold onto a light bulb and save up the glow for later?

Their powers were just silly tricks back then. Things are different now.

‘All done,’ Mike says. ‘We’ll check your immune system is firing on all cylinders and send over the results in a couple of days.’

Erik shoots him a tight smile. Immune system, sure. The blood tests are supposed to check that there’s no physical backlash from using a mutant ability, a safety measure. It’s obviously bullshit or they wouldn’t be a legal requirement. A fairly ubiquitous rumour is that they measure how much of your power you’re using, so you can’t cheat on the tests. Your blood will show if you’re holding back.

Getting out of the centre and into the fresh air is a relief, but he can’t stop thinking, all the way home. He pretty much believes the rumour. The tests are always done after you use your powers. If you do something stupid and showy at school you get called into the nurse’s office to give a sample. It’s just a thing. It happens. Seb must have done something like that before he got kicked out.

Seb’s strong too. Maybe he’s trying to hide just how strong he’s become.

The light is fading as he pulls into the drive. His mother opens the door as he comes up the path. ‘The lab rat returns,’ she says wryly. ‘Did they wear you out? There are cookies on the counter and dinner won’t be long, if your father will get off his backside and peel the potatoes.’

‘Great,’ he says trying to smile.

As he steps past her into the house she catches him and looks up into his face, then pulls him into a hug. ‘Ah, bunch of bastards,’ she mutters into his chest. ‘You don’t let them get you down.’

He laughs. ‘Mom, get off. I’m fine.’

‘I know you are,’ she says. ‘Who needs any tests to tell that? You’re my boy, you’re perfect. Go have a cookie.’ She gives him a gentle shove through the doorway and into the bright room.

The cookies are still warm from the oven. He takes a handful, pours himself a glass of milk and turns on the TV, surfing hurriedly away from a mutant rights current affairs show. He should watch it but he can’t cope just now. Instead he settles on a mindless sitcom and lets himself sink into the comforts of cookies and home.

Suddenly the whole high school thing seems very petty. Who cares who sits where? He just wants to go back to normal and fight with Riptide and snark at Emma, and forget about the existence of Stryker and every other fucking human.

Except his parents, obviously.

And possibly Charles.

When lunchtime rolls around Raven makes a bit of a production of it, proceeding Charles into the room regally like the head of a procession with no tail.

‘Everybody, I’d like you to meet my friend Charles Xavier,’ she says.

‘Hello,’ says Charles, looking around the table. ‘Nice to meet you all. Or, um, see you again,’ he adds, with a mischievous glance at Riptide and Pyro.

Nobody says anything so Charles treats them to his angelic squirrel impression, sets his lunch tray down on the table and slides into the chair beside Erik’s. Raven snags another chair for herself and shoves at Havok until he makes a space on Charles’s other side.

Erik looks around grimly. Emma’s gathered everyone, even the freshmen, some of whom are only a year or so into their powers. They’re lined up against the wall, chattering and whispering and shooting meaningful glances at each other. In fact the whole lunchroom is doing the same thing, rustling with indrawn breaths and bristling with pointing fingers.

Even Charles’s composure isn’t quite up to the task. He looks up at Erik and gives a nervous little smile. Erik feels a sudden rush of protectiveness. Charles is practically pocket-sized anyway and seems especially helpless among the mutant crowd. Any one of them could squelch him with the flick of a mental muscle, and would, too, if Erik wasn’t here.

‘Yeah, good to see you Charles,’ he says awkwardly.

Emma leans forward, purring. ‘Charles, it’s so interesting to meet you. I feel you must be a very special person, Erik’s terribly fond of you already.’

‘Oh, no, he’s just helped me out of a few little scrapes,’ Charles says.

Erik glares at Emma, experiencing an almost overwhelming desire to crawl under his chair. He's not sure if it's everyone seeing him with Charles or the knowledge of what she is almost certainly about to do. She's not going to fuck him up, she's going to nice him to death.

She smirks at him. ‘How chivalrous. It’s really rather surprising for Erik, I’m fascinated. You must tell us all about yourself.’

‘I suppose it was chivalrous,’ Charles says, looking slightly overwhelmed. ‘But there’s not much to tell about me, I’m ever so normal really.’

There’s a chorus of sniggers. ‘Yeah, pretty much,’ Jubilee says, popping her gum. ‘Can’t help how you’re born though, can you Charles?’

He smiles at her. ‘I wouldn’t say you can be genetically boring,’ he says earnestly. ‘We’ve got lots of choices, but you’re right the basics are set.’ He nibbles on a french fry. ‘It’s hard to tell just how much is built into our DNA. All of you know better than me what a difference a couple of encoded amino acids can make to the human body. It’s really very gr-- uh, amazing.’

‘Sure, we’re fascinating,’ Riptide grunts resentfully. ‘You’re fascinated by Raven, anyway.’

Charles glances at Raven, flushes slightly and shakes his head. ‘Oh, no, by all of you, by mutants in general,’ he says. ‘I’m working towards a correspondence degree in genetics right now and I hope I’ll be able to concentrate my studies on the mutant gene at some stage… I mean…’ he trails off as the temperature suddenly drops to absolute zero.

‘You want to study us,’ Azazel says flatly.

‘Well, yes but…’

Pyro flicks his lighter. Azazel flicks his tail. Charles flicks his eyes frantically around the ring of stony faces, looking faintly horrified.

‘Erik, I think you’d better get your little human pet off this table,’ Azazel says quietly.

There’s a general shifting of chairs and flexing of fingers. Erik finds himself half-standing, leaning forward over the table, body slightly angled to shield Charles from the glares.

Emma’s horrible tinkling laugh breaks the silence. ‘Azazel darling, don’t be rude to our poor guest,’ she says, reaching out to pat Charles’s hand. ‘It would be such a shame to spoil things when we’re just getting to know each other, now wouldn’t it?’

‘Mmm, chill out,’ Angel says, stretching languidly. ‘So Charles is a science nerd. It’s kind of uncool, but he can go play with Hank sometime.’

Jubilee snaps her gum again. ‘You guys are so uptight.’

It’s obviously female solidarity, the cheerleaders getting behind Emma’s usual evil desire to embarrass Erik as much as possible, but for once he’s actually glad about it. Charles looks utterly miserable but it feels like he’s not at risk of serious bodily harm any more.

Erik eases back into his chair and presses his knee against Charles’s, trying to signify that there’s nothing to be scared of. Charles gives him a look of such speaking gratitude that his stomach starts up its fluttering thing again and he has to remove the knee hastily because the contact is spreading warmth all the way up his leg.

The table is still ominously silent. He gropes desperately for a topic of conversation. Mutants, no, politics, no, sports… ok, Charles isn’t the jock type but sport has to be safe enough. ‘So, you guys don’t play football in England, right?’ he says, with an encouraging and perhaps slightly unhinged smile.

‘Not what you call football,’ Charles agrees, gripping onto the question like a lifeline. ‘And we certainly don’t have these huge school tournament things that seem so important here. No cheerleaders either. The whole school spirit thing seems kind of bonkers, really… and I’ve just made myself even more of a hated outcast, haven’t I?’ he mumbles to Erik, looking round at the still none-to-friendly faces. ‘Ok, I think I’m just going to go away now.’

‘No, tell us about England,’ Emma says, syrup dripping from her voice. ‘Have you met the queen?’

Charles gapes. ‘Um, no, I haven’t.’

‘How about Prince Harry?’ asks Jubilee. ‘Shame about William, but I’d just love to get in on that action.’

‘British royalty are hardly going to interbreed with mutants,’ puts in Azazel.

Jubilee pouts. ‘You’re ruining my fantasies, Az. Fuck it. Stupid country, who wants to be princess of it anyway?’

‘Weather’s shit,’ puts in Angel. ‘And the people all have bad teeth.’

Everyone turns to look at Charles’s mouth. He closes it quickly.

Emma flicks her hair. ‘At least English people have nice manners. I’m so sorry, Charles,’ she says, turning to him and batting her perfectly mascaraed eyelashes, ‘whatever must you think of us?’

‘No, please don’t worry,’ Charles murmurs feebly, pinned in her limpid gaze.

‘But I do worry, sugar. It’s just so awful of them when you’re new here. You know, we all have a responsibility to make you feel welcome.’

‘Um…’

‘And you have lovely teeth. In fact, you’re just as cute as a button,’ she adds, with the obvious intention to pile it on until she’s reduced him to utter incoherence.

Erik feels a laugh bubbling up inside of him. God, Emma’s studied sweetness stomping all over poor Charles’s honest-to-god innocence is somehow horribly funny, like a car full of clowns falling off a cliff. He wants to hug Charles and tell him he’s an adorable, squirrelish moron and he shouldn’t be let out alone. Raven, too trembles with the effort of holding in a sudden attack of giggles

Even Azazel is smiling. ‘Emma, this is cruel and unusual,’ he says. ‘He may be a human but right now he has all my sympathy.’

Erik puts a meaningful hand on Charles’s shoulder. ‘Yeah, that’s enough.’ He injects an appreciable level of menace into the words. It’s pretty embarrassing to be standing up for a norm in front of every mutant in school, but he’s not going to sit back while the others torture him. He directs his glare at the freshmen and sophomores. ‘You lot, fuck off. The rest of you, talk amongst yourself and let us eat our goddamn lunches.’

An uncomfortable silence falls. Erik chomps determinedly into his burger. Charles pokes at his fries for a minute or so. ‘Actually, Erik,’ he says in a very small voice, ‘I think I’m done.’

Erik finally tracks them down in a peaceful corner of the field, screened off by a couple of bushes. He creeps warily up, deciding to take a shot at being nice because (a) it’s unlikely that anyone will see, (b) even if they did things really couldn’t get much worse, and (c) Charles might just possibly not loathe him entirely.

‘That was the single worst experience of my life,’ Charles moans as he approaches. He’s flat on the grass with his face buried in his jacket and Raven patting him soothingly.

She glances up at Erik makes a face, more exasperated than angry. ‘You’re still a jerk, Erik Lehnsherr. Ok, so you let us sit with you in front of everyone. Granted. But you totally broke him.’

‘Is that Erik?’ Charles asks woefully. ‘Raven, tell him I died, ok?’

Erik pokes at him with a toe. He doesn’t move.

‘Or I went back to England. Or I have bubonic plague.’

'Or you got abducted by aliens,’ Raven says.

Erik sits down cautiously. ‘Adopted by wolves,’ he suggests.

‘Suddenly taken pregnant,’ Charles mutters.

Raven giggles. ‘Called away on a mission for the British Secret Service. No, turned into a cat. Zombified by an apocalyptic virus.’

‘Talent spotted as a male model,’ Erik counters.

‘Male model?’ Charles says incredulously. He rolls over enough that a single baleful eye is visible. ‘I really hate you.’

Raven’s face takes on a slightly dreamy expression. ‘You’d make a good male model.’

Charles tries and fails to hit her on the knee and flops back on his face. ‘Stop picturing it.’

‘Make me,’ she says fondly.

She has a point. Surveyed objectively, Charles could just about be model material. His slim frame would look nice on camera. Erik mentally dresses him in jeans and a tight t-shirt and sets him lounging provocatively against the brickwork of a graffitied building. Yes, that would work. He could also do cute, huddled in a fluffy sweater on the couch cuddling a puppy. Or sprawled on a rumpled bed in a patch of sunlight wearing not very much, all smooth skin and shadowed contours, with a light dusting of hair…

‘Earth to Erik,’ Raven says, grinning.

The images dissipate, leaving the usual neatly unfashionable Charles spread-eagled inelegantly on the grass. ‘Erik can be the male model,’ he mumbles into the ground. ‘I’ll take the wolves, they’ll have far fewer vicious man-eating tendencies than that bloody Emma Frost.’

‘I’ll take the Secret Service then,’ Raven says cheerfully. ‘You guys can fight over the pregnancy.’

‘Erik’s,’ Charles says firmly.

Erik smiles. ‘Fine, if it makes you happy.’

Charles stretches and rolls onto his back. ‘It would make me unhappy to get pregnant,’ he corrects, ‘seeing as I am an extremely manly man.’

Raven bursts out laughing. ‘Of course you are,’ she says, shooting a speaking glance at Erik. ‘That’s why we love you.’

Erik decides that she’s not nearly as much of a brat as she appears to be, giggling and relaxed, without her sharp edges and defensiveness. It’s reasonable enough that she likes Charles. After all, he likes Charles and he has plenty of friends of his own. Raven however… who are the other girls in her class? He flicks through the faces of the younger mutants. There are just two, as far as he can recall. Kitty Pryde is quite obviously a cheerleader-to-be, while dreamy Jean Grey is harmless but astonishingly dull. For the boys there’s Havok’s tiresome little brother Scott and his faithful shadow Bobby Drake, plus Hank McCoy who doesn’t actually acknowledge the existence of anything he can’t fit into a test tube.

Not altogether a prepossessing crowd. He doesn’t blame her for choosing Charles Xavier instead.

‘I am manly, thank you very much,’ Charles says, laughing back at her. ‘I may not be a hulking football player but I have my male pride. I admit it got rather bruised today, but it remains intact.’

Stop whining, Charles, it wasn’t so bad.’ Erik prods him again, in the ribs. ‘Nobody died.’

'I sincerely thought I was going to. Oh god, when I said that thing about the genetics and they all just looked at me. I like genetics, that’s all.’

A stray thought that he’d been too distracted to register pops back into Erik’s mind. ‘Did you say you were getting a correspondence degree in genetics? As in an actual college degree?’

‘Yes,’ Charles wrinkles his nose. ‘I thought I could do with another one. I think I should have chosen to study social skills this time around though. I appear to be sorely in need of them.’

Erik looks over at Raven. ‘Is he serious?’

She nods. ‘It’s freaking bizarre. Don’t ask, you’ll just get overwhelmed by deep-seated feelings of inadequacy.’

Charles is still sprawled like a starfish in a state of Emma-induced shock, twitching at odd intervals. Erik looks him over critically. ‘I really think I wouldn’t.’

‘That’s mean,’ Charles grouches. ‘Why do I get stuck with a heartless girl who mocks my manliness and a mean guy who mocks my intelligence?

‘I thought Erik was your knight in shining armour,’ Raven says, smirking.

‘Yes, and some knight errant he tuned out to be, sending me in among those circling sharks. Though in my opinion I made a pretty fair damsel in distress.’

Erik shakes his head. ‘There’s room for improvement. Aren’t you supposed to scream and flutter and faint? You need to practice falling into my arms.’

Charles blinks. ‘Fall into your arms?’ he says, perking up hopefully.

Shit, Erik thinks frantically. Shit. That did not come out at all the way it was supposed to come out. But Charles is giving him that look again, the I-really-like-you-please-be-my-friend-and-protector look that derails every single electrical impulse in every brain cell Erik possesses.

‘You did kind of stand up for me,’ Charles says tentatively. ‘That was pretty noble, really.’

‘Well you needed it. You looked like a rabbit in Emma’s headlights,’ Erik says, uncomfortably aware that they are now straying into the territory where what they say has nothing whatsoever to do with what they mean.

A little smile dawns on Charles’s face. ‘She’s scary,’ he says. ‘Actually, she might be the scariest of the bunch. I was really glad you were there.’

‘I’m the scariest of the bunch,’ Erik points out. ‘I can keep her in line.’ He’s feeling slightly drunk with the last dribbles of adrenaline and that hesitantly unfurling smile. What the hell is he doing, flirting with a human? Charles barely survived ten minutes with his friends. It’s against the unwritten laws, it’s sleeping with the enemy… sleeping with, repeats his brain and all coherent thought ceases.

‘You could count that as slaying a dragon, I suppose,’ Charles says, ‘and add another mark to the knight errant column. I think you also need to climb up my hair or something, but we might skip that one.’

‘I don’t think I could get much of a grip on your hair,’ Erik agrees, and then feels himself blushing hideously because oh, dear god, the images. Shit. That wasn’t even intended to be an innuendo.

His hands gripping Charles’s hair.

‘I… um,’ Charles says, and swallows audibly.

They’re leaning slightly closer. Erik registers with distant amusement that this is the most revoltingly saccharine flirtation it’s ever been his misfortune to witness. If it was anyone but him doing it he would be dragging them away by their collar for a sharp lecture on the meaning of dignity.

Raven groans and gets to her feet. ‘Oh God, I don’t think I want to be here anymore. Charles, I’ll see you after school, if you can tear yourself away long enough to actually go to your class.’

‘Don’t need to,’ Charles mutters, looking up at her. ‘I’m really smart.’

‘Hey, so what does the dumpster count as?’ Erik asks, neatly reclaiming his attention and smiling in a way that he knows makes little crinkles round his eyes. Don’t talk to Raven. Talk to me.

From Charles’s suddenly intent expression it appears that Raven has been successfully wiped from his awareness. ‘Well,’ he says earnestly, ‘I suppose they were trying to sully my purity with garbage.’

‘So I protected your virtue,’ Erik says.

Charles catches his eye and flushes. ‘I guess you did.’ He bites on his lower lip. ‘Um… Erik? If I said something really corny like “you can protect my virtue any time”, would you ever speak to me again?’

That lip is criminal. It’s way worse than the squirrel face. Erik tries to keep his voice steady. ‘I don’t know. I might. You should try it.’

‘You can… uh, you can,’ Charles says disjointedly, and leans in until their lips are just an inch apart, and Erik quite naturally bridges the gap to kiss him.

It was inevitable, he realises, from the very first moment he focused on Charles’s lips, back in that hallway when they pressed together in frightened determination. Quite without his knowing it he’s been waiting to taste them.

Charles is tentative at first, little soft nibbles, and Erik has to haul him in and show him how it’s done. He brushes a thumb down Charles’s neck and is rewarded by a little gasp. Charles’s arms scrabble their way around his neck.

I’m kissing a human, Erik thinks crazily. This isn’t Seb, it isn’t Logan, it’s an actual, powerless human. It’s someone he could kill with a thought or protect with all his strength, as he chose.

God, why is that such an incredible turn on?

Once you’ve given in to temptation it’s so much easier to give in again. And again. And again.

Over the next week or so it goes from bad to worse. Erik struggles desperately to hide it, but he’s totally smitten. Charles is just so… so bright. Not bright as in smart, though he is that, but bright as in lights up a room.

He finds himself constantly aware of it, smiling involuntarily when Charles is close, shooting little glances across the classroom and stealing kisses in deserted corridors.

Charles starts sitting casually on the bleachers during football practice, ostensibly engrossed in his journal articles and periodically peeping over the top of them at Erik. They sneak off and sprawl together on the grass after school gazing up at the clouds, and he doesn’t even mind if Charles brings Raven along, because if she’s important to Charles then that’s important to Erik too.

When Charles leaves his jacket behind after French class Erik picks it up and breathes in the warmth and the scent. Then he catches himself doing it and wants to cry.

Who have I become? he thinks hollowly.

Altogether, Emma was right. When he’s with Charles he’s a great big sap.

When he’s not with Charles though, he’s a total jerk.

He’s well aware of it, but there’s no other option. The thing is, since that lunchtime everyone knows there’s something going on. Although Charles has gone back to sitting with Raven, well away from the mutant table, the school is still buzzing with gossip. Havok seems to cheerfully accept that Erik’s insane, but Riptide and Azazel are still edgy and suspicious about it. Erik knows that if it were one of them, traitorously going all pathetic over a human girl, he’d feel exactly the same way.

So he plays it down. He seems to spend half of every day saying things like ‘I’m just fucking around,’ or, ‘he’s really horny, can’t get enough,’ or, ‘you just don’t get it, you’d totally hit that if you were gay.’ He’s supposed to look after Charles, to take care of him, to protect him from all the crap in the world, and instead he’s saying shitty things behind his back. And he feels more of a dick every time.

By a week in, he’s obsessing over maintaining the pretence. It would be really stupid to spend too much time with Charles, it would make it look like he was serious, so he rations his contact and forces himself to do sensible, normal things. He drags himself away from make-out sessions to play super-lethal-mutant-ball in the quarry, or to pick fights with Emma (even more lethal) or just to hang out with the guys, his normal default setting. It’s like he’s got a big sign on his chest saying, Still Erik, just getting some action.

The tragic thing is that it works really well. There aren’t a lot of gay mutant guys around, and since Seb Shaw is most definitely not an option people accept Erik’s got to have his fun somewhere. He starts to hear his own comments being reflected back at him, ‘there goes Erik’s bit of ass,’ and ‘bet he can do some amazing things with that mouth,’ and plenty of sniggers.

He’s too much of a coward even to glare at them.

Charles seems oblivious. Of course, nobody says anything to his face. Raven, though, is starting to shoot Erik looks that are first worried, then confused, and now, increasingly, furious.

Still, it’s going sort of ok, he tells himself. He’s got it under control.

And then he finds that Charles has joined the chess club.

Erik feels his credibility start to wobble. People in the chess club, practically by definition, are neither fun nor horny not hit-worthy. There is no possible reason that he could have for hanging around with a chess nerd.

The whispers start up again.

Erik thinks, there is a god and he really fucking hates me.

The first Thursday, Erik didn’t know about the chess thing till afterwards. The second, though, he takes matters into his own hands, corners Charles on the way over and drags him around the bushes by the biology lab. It’s a shadowed nook, semi-out-of-the-way, and Charles looks quite keen until he sees Erik’s expression.

‘What?’ he says, a little bewildered.

‘This is an intervention,’ Erik tells him. ‘No chess club. You are not going.’

Charles peers up at him. ‘Why on earth not?’

‘Because in high school terms that is as low as it is possible to fall. I can’t let you do that to yourself.’

Charles’s nose twitches disapprovingly. ‘Honestly, Erik, you’re being ridiculous,’ he says. ‘I don’t mind what people think. These social things you have are all very silly anyway.’

‘Then think about what you’re doing to me,’ Erik tells him, somewhat unwisely.

‘I’m not doing anything to you,’ Charles says. ‘It’s chess. All it involves is moving little men around on a board.

‘You are!’ Erik says exasperatedly. ‘I absolutely cannot date someone in the chess club. Have mercy.’

Charles blinks and Erik’s suddenly certain that he’ll go down the path that Erik really wants to avoid, the you’re ashamed of me path which, well, yes, he is. More ashamed of himself, but still unavoidably ashamed of Charles, this tiny geeky English human who, for no good reason, he can’t seem to stay away from.

But this being Charles, and Charles being socially clueless, things take another route entirely. ‘Um,’ he says, flushing slightly. He meets Erik’s eyes shyly and smiles. ‘Oh. So… we’re dating then? Officially?’

In the world’s most unofficial sense of officially, Erik thinks, almost overwhelmed by the sudden glow. God, Charles is stunning when he smiles.

Unfortunately this is yet another conversation he really cannot be having. He scrabbles for a way to avoid answering, can’t think of one, and opts for simply pulling Charles in by his shirt-front and kissing him stupid. This is pretty much a tried and tested method.

Charles, true to form, makes a happy noise and submits willingly, tilting his head just so, allowing Erik to take shameless advantage of that irresistible mouth. He’s getting really good at this, Erik thinks approvingly. He nuzzles the sensitive spot on Charles’s neck then slides back up to his mouth.

‘Mmm, that’s nice,’ Charles mumbles dazedly.

Erik grins. Mission accomplished. He nips and tugs at Charles’s lower lip, slowly, teasingly, then dives back in. It’s supposed to be playful but Charles’s tongue wraps around his own and after a while he can’t help but deepen the kiss, pulling him closer with a hand on the back of his head.

The effect is unexpected, to say the least. Charles goes from blissed out to shameless in an instant. He surges desperately forward with a little hitching moan. His hand slides down to Erik’s ass, grips, presses, and he tugs himself against Erik’s body. Heat blossoms between them. Charles moans again and shifts, searching for friction. Erik shudders. He can’t help it, he returns the pressure, fingers slipping up under Charles’s shirt and digging into the soft skin of his back. It feels… shit, it feels like it’s about to get X-rated. Fast.

He’s really horny, says his own, cruel voice in his head.

Even that doesn’t quite get through the fog of lust. It requires what must be the greatest effort of his life to take Charles firmly by the shoulders and push him away.

‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ he gasps, ‘don’t do that. We’re practically in public.’

Charles wriggles at arm’s length, flushed and ravished, red lips glistening and breath coming in little gasps. He looks like a starving man who’s just had a hot dinner whisked away from under his nose. He squirms out of Erik’s grip and flops back against the wall next to him, wiping a hand down his face, then finally turns his head to fix him with a glare of the deepest resentment. ‘How exactly,’ he says irritably, ‘do you expect me to remember that when you have your tongue in my mouth?’

Seeing as the whole thing was designed as an attempt to distract him Erik really doesn’t have an answer for that one.

‘It’s your fault,’ Charles continues, ‘you started it.’

‘I started kissing,’ Erik protests. ‘You started on the first page of the Karma Sutra. You have absolutely no self-control.’ The impulse to grab Charles and start it all over again is practically irresistible. Self-control is good, he tells himself.

Charles’s eyes flick down to his mouth, then back. ‘Again, not my fault,’ he says distractedly. ‘Simple cause and effect. You do things that make me do things.’

Erik shakes his head. ‘Entirely your fault,’ he manages. The absence of Charles’s body tingles all the way down him. He pants slightly as the heat drains away.

‘Bloody hell,’ Charles says weakly, dragging his eyes away and looking around. Beyond the bush it’s quite possible to see a handful of sophomores hanging out on the grass, fortunately facing the other way and focused on each other. ‘Alright, maybe that was going a bit far for school property.’ He heaves a sigh and becomes slightly more coherent. ‘What were we talking about before you so rudely interrupted me?’

‘Chess,’ Erik lies.

‘Chess?’ Charles says blankly. He seems to have entirely forgotten what the word means.

‘Yeah. Chess,’ Erik says. ‘You know, the game? With the little men and the board?’

Light dawns. ‘Oh. That chess. I remember. You don’t want me to go to chess club.’ He pouts. With the state his lips are in it’s pretty damn effective. ‘But Erik, I like chess and it’s really no fun on your own.’

The perfect solution suddenly presents itself. ‘You can play with me,’ Erik says decidedly.

‘I just tried and you wouldn’t let me,’ Charles complains. ‘Besides, that’s not chess, it’s an entirely different game.’

‘I meant chess, you moron,’ Erik says, biting down on a laugh.

Charles put his head on one side curiously. ‘Wait, you play?’ he asks, surprised. Actually, he’s rather too surprised for Erik’s liking.

‘Yes, I play. You’re not the only person here with a brain,’ he says pointedly. ‘I play with my dad once a week.’

That’s kind of understating it actually. He also plays online when he gets bored doing his homework, and with every single member of his dad’s family when they visit, and on occasion with Havok, who’s surprisingly keen though astonishingly bad at it. But he’s hardly going to join the chess club.

‘That’s great,’ Charles says, tugging at his hand and practically bouncing with pleasure. ‘That’s perfect, you can come with me.’

Erik groans. That is without question the worst possible thing he could do.

But, god help him, he goes.

That afternoon, after school, he’s sprawled on his back on the bed trying to work out what the hell he’s doing. He just spent lunchtime at chess club, with Charles. For Charles. And, as Emma’s very intense expression had told him when she passed him in the halls, that is no longer the unofficial kind of official. That’s just about as official as it gets.

No more pretence. If he doesn’t dump Charles right now then they’re dating. Swim or sink, sink or swim.

One way, Azazel and Riptide will totally lose it, and they’d be right to. He’ll be saying that a human matters more to him than other mutants. He’ll be betraying his own kind.

But if he chooses the other way he’s going to lose Charles.

Chess club, the scene of his undoing. He’s been thinking about the match ever since, the two of them sitting there head to head. It had been intense, a glimpse of different Charles, still himself, gentle and flirtatious, but also delighted to be challenged, capable of astonishing boldness and ruthless manoeuvring, utterly self-assured.

That version of Charles had made him a little edgy, actually.

He sighs. He has one of his own chess pieces in his hand, the sinuous curve of a knight, and he reaches for a scrap of metal, flicks it into a sheet, wraps it around the piece, contracts it until it touches everywhere, beautiful and shining.

Yes, very funny.

‘Erik,’ his mom calls up.

At least it had been kind of fun. Erik had lost, but not by much, and he gave himself even odds of winning next time. The other chess geeks had gathered around to watch, initially because of the unheard-of presence of the school’s premier mutant jock in their club but later because it had been a tense, well-fought match which made for a good show. You know, if you like that sort of thing.

So by tomorrow not only will everyone know that Erik has sunk so low as to go to chess club, they’ll also know that he’s a really good player.

He frowns, pondering. Does that make it better or worse?

‘Erik!’ his mom calls again. He actually registers it properly this time.

‘Yeah, I’m up here.’

‘I know you’re up there,’ she hollers, ‘I want you to get down here. You’ve got visitors.’

Crap. He’s instantly alert. Please let it not be the guys come to interrogate me, he prays to whoever might be listening. But if it were, she would have said so. At least, she wouldn’t have called them visitors, she’d have yelled, ‘Erik, your pack of goons is here, get them off my porch!’

Which means it’s probably Charles, he realises, with a strange sinking feeling. No, she said visitors, plural. Charles and Raven.

As he goes downstairs he can hear his doting mother cheerfully bemoaning his manners, she raised him wrong, kids these days, nothing but trouble.

Charles looks politely interested. Raven looks gleeful, but when she glances up at Erik her face takes on a brief expression of intense distaste. She’s really not happy with him.

He suddenly has a damn good idea why they’re here.

‘Hi,’ he says. ‘Mom, quit it.’

‘See, what did I tell you? No respect. Erik, introduce me to your friends.’

Great, parental embarrassment on top of everything else. But he knows better than to try to wriggle out of it. ‘Guys, this is my mom. Mom, Charles and Raven from school.’

She smiles warmly on them both. ‘Lovely to meet you. Now, tell me what you do.’ They look blank, as most people do when unexpectedly faced with Erik’s mother. ‘Powers!’ she prompts. ‘Do I need to keep a fire extinguisher handy?’

‘Mom! No. Raven’s a shapeshifter and Charles is just a Charles.’ A Charles? What the fuck is wrong with him? ‘A person,’ he corrects himself. ‘A regular person.’

‘Really?’ She looks surprised. ‘Well that’s… refreshing, I suppose.’ She glances from Charles to Erik, Erik to Charles and he can see her putting two and two together and making about a thousand. ‘Ok, no fire extinguisher required, you may take them away.’

‘Come upstairs,’ Erik says miserably. He leads them up, feeling Raven’s death-glare on the back of his neck the whole way, and ushers them into his room.

Charles gravitates to his side and leans close for a brief moment. ‘Hi,’ he says, not asking for a kiss, just pressing his head briefly against Erik’s cheek before stepping away.

‘Hi,’ says Erik, beginning to get really nervous. There was something off about that greeting, something unhappy. ‘Both of you, hi. Good to see you.’

‘Yeah, good to see you, Erik,’ Raven says with heavy sarcasm.

Charles gives her a warning look then looks up at Erik and smiles just slightly.

Erik’s heart catches. He’s so pretty. He’s so small.

Time stretches out.

‘Stop that,’ Raven snaps. ‘Jesus, what’s wrong with you, Charles? Also, I’m right here. Erik, you want to know why we came?’

‘Yeah,’ says Erik, though he’s not sure that he does.

‘We came because Charles wants to be a self-sacrificing masochistic moron,’ Raven snaps, ‘and I want to yell at you for being a total jerk. But since you can’t seem to concentrate on anything but staring into each other’s eyes, the first thing you’re going to do is sit down. At least, like, six feet apart.’

‘Ok,’ Erik says. He can’t quite bring himself to ask what’s been said, why Charles is feeling self-sacrificing, so he concentrates on the sitting as the only bit he can cope with. There’s just about room, with Charles leaning against the bed, Erik against the wardrobe and Raven claiming the beanbag.

‘So why we’re here…’ Raven begins.

Charles sighs. ‘Raven, I’ll say it. I’m perfectly capable of speaking for myself.’

She scowls. ‘You aren’t. You’ll say something sweet that he doesn’t deserve.’

That’s almost certainly true, Erik thinks.

‘Raven, this is my problem.’ Charles sighs. ‘Look, Erik, I told Raven about the chess thing and how nice it was of you to come with me, and...’

‘And I said I couldn’t stand to see him getting so happy about a two-faced phoney,’ Raven interrupts angrily.

Erik’s hands clench. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

‘Raven, be quiet,’ Charles says. ‘Look, Erik, she told me some of the things you’ve been saying about me and some of the things other people have been saying. About, you know, fucking around and all that sort of thing. And, well, I didn’t want to believe it, but on reflection, I kind of do.’

Erik feels the edges of the world crumble slightly. He grips his knees and swallows. ‘Oh.’ There are absolutely no words for how shitty he feels, physically sick. He can’t think of a single other thing to say, except, are you breaking up with me?

‘Yeah, “oh,” is right,’ Raven says, giving him the death glare again. He kind of wants to hate her but he can’t because it was the right thing to do. She’s the only person who’s treating Charles right at all.

‘And she’s kind of upset about it,’ Charles continues, ‘and honestly so am I, a bit. Maybe a lot, later, but for now just a bit.’

‘Seriously, Lehnsherr, you don’t know how lucky you are,’ Raven snaps.

Lucky? Erik thinks. How is there any luck anywhere in this? He didn’t ask to fall for a human and have his life turned upside down. He didn’t ask to be torn away from his loyalties and forget who he is. He never asked for Charles, it just… happened.

‘Look, if I really thought you don’t give a shit, and you meant all those things, I’d be off crying in a corner somewhere,’ Charles says. He meets Erik’s eyes cautiously. ‘But these past couple of weeks have been lovely. I don’t believe you’re just trying to get into my pants. In fact, if anything, I’ve been trying to get into yours (sorry Raven, you didn’t need to hear that). And if it’s all been real then you’re just saying it for your friends. Well, I don’t understand but I really like you and I think you like me, so you deserve a chance to explain.’

Seriously, who is Charles? Who could possibly think like that? It makes so little sense that he forgets about lying or even saying sorry. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you,’ he says blankly. ‘I don’t deserve that at all.’

Charles shrugs and jerks his head at Raven. ‘That’s what she said. She says I’m being really stupid. But I – well, I know you, or I think I do, and I suppose I can’t help but think the best of you. I just want to know… what’s so important that you have to hide? Is this what American high schools are like, with these utterly impenetrable barriers? I mean, I’ve seen it on telly, but I never actually believed it.’

‘Mutants stay with mutants,’ Erik says helplessly. ‘You’re a mutant or you aren’t, that’s the thing. That’s the only reason, Charles. Of course I haven’t been fucking around with you. It’s just complicated.’

‘It matters that much?’ Charles asks.

Yes, Erik thinks, it really does. ‘It’s just…’ he doesn’t know how to explain. ‘It’s just a thing. We don’t sit with the humans, like the geeks don’t sit with the jocks.’ It’s nothing like that at all, but that’s the closest he can come.

‘But why?’ Charles presses. ‘I mean, I understand that somehow there are all these divisions and posturing, and they’re taken seriously, but this seems a bit extreme.

‘We’re different from everyone else,’ Erik says.

‘Better than everybody else, you mean,’ Raven says sourly. ‘Like jocks think they’re better just because they play some stupid sport.’

Erik glowers at her. ‘Raven. It’s not like that. I didn’t say anything about being better.’

Charles looks at him searchingly. ‘No, you didn’t,’ he says slowly. ‘But your mother was really surprised when she found out I was human.’

‘So?’ Erik says. He doesn’t like where this is going. ‘I'm a mutant. Most of my friends are mutants. That’s normal.’

Charles shakes his head. ‘All of your friends are mutants.’ His face stiffens with dawning comprehension. ‘Look, I know your friends don’t like me for being a human, but it’s not just about keeping up your reputation with them, is it? Do you believe it too? Do you honestly think mutants are better than humans?’

His eyes shutter themselves. Erik shivers. Charles is looking at him as though something intrinsic has changed between them. He wants to put it right, wants to deny everything, but he can’t. Somehow when Charles said the word humans he could practically feel Stryker’s hot breath on the back of his neck, could hear Seb’s voice whispering about power and fear.

‘Well look at us,’ he says. He’s aiming for reasonable but even to his own ears it comes out sounding defensive. ‘We’re stronger, we can do things humans can’t. Doesn’t that mean we’re better? We’re the next step on the evolutionary ladder. I’m just being realistic.’

‘The master race,’ Charles says. ‘You can’t be serious.’ His voice tenses and Erik realises that he’s never seen Charles angry, he can’t even imagine what it looks like, but he might be about to find out.

‘So what if I am,’ he snaps. He can’t help but be annoyed about how Charles is twisting things. ‘What’s so wrong with thinking we’re more evolved than humans? It’s better than thinking of ourselves as dangerous animals, or lab rats, or weapons.’

‘Can’t you just think of yourselves as people?’ Charles asks, fists clenching in frustration.

‘We can’t afford to,’ Erik says. He knows he’s right, he can make Charles understand, he just has to explain it properly. Raven’s glancing from one to the other of them, uncertainly, and she needs to understand too, it’s important. ‘We’re not just people, you humans don’t think of us as people. Look, we’re not even the same species anymore, We can’t all just be friends forever. You’re the geneticist, survival of the fittest, right?’

‘Fittest doesn’t have to mean strongest,’ Charles says fiercely. ‘We may be genetically different but we’re all still civilised beings.’

Erik grits his teeth. Well, what happens to you if you get too strong? Seb says in his ear. ‘Civilised. Are you really that stupid? You’re the uncivilised ones, not us.’

‘I’m not the one who won’t sit with the unevolved masses,’ Charles points out furiously. ‘I’m not the one who’s been going around lying about his relationships. I’d say that makes me a damn sight more civilised than you.’

‘Fuck you,’ Erik snaps. ‘You’re a human, you’ll never understand. You’re so self-righteous but you already think that you’re better than us, all of you. You were here first so you think you’re allowed to do what you like to us. You think we belong to you.’

‘What are we doing, then?’ Charles yells. ‘What’s so terrible?’

Erik can feel his control slipping. It’s not fair, he isn’t really shouting at Charles, but Charles is a human just like the rest. ‘You take our blood,’ he snarls, and hears his voice, shuddering with violence that sets the metal fragments trembling. ‘If you humans are so fucking civilised then tell me why you want our blood!’

There’s a silence. Charles looks at him, startled, uncertain. ‘Erik…?’

Erik gulps in a breath. He’s panting, shocked at himself for saying it, for voicing the worry that’s been bubbling under the surface. Suddenly it’s far more real, a proper fear gripping him by the throat. ‘What the hell do they need it for, Charles?’ he says. ‘Why do they keep watching and testing? What are they going to do to us?’ He needs to breathe. He focuses furiously on the carpet, the wardrobe door against his back, the metal in the room.

‘Erik, it’s alright,’ Charles says quietly. He edges across the floor and rests his hand gently on Erik’s knee as though he’s soothing a frightened animal. That’s exactly what he’s doing, Erik realises painfully. Soothing the edgy, dangerous animal so that it won’t bite.

He still can't breathe. ‘Better doesn’t mean better,’ he gasps. ‘It means we’re more of a threat to you.’

‘Erik,’ Raven whispers. ‘Jesus.’ She’s gripping the inside of her elbow, as though she’s pressing down the cotton wool after a needle stick. She’s probably not even aware that she’s doing it. It makes him want to tear Stryker’s arms off.

‘It’s alright,’ Charles says again, still with that wary, too-gentle tone.

Finally the air starts flowing properly through Erik’s lungs. He tries to give Charles a smile to prove he’s not really insane. He doesn’t quite manage it but it’s enough reassurance for Charles to slide into his lap and wrap both arms around him.

He’s warm and comforting and Erik just holds on. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers, ‘Charles, I’m so sorry, I’ve been a jerk, I knew all the time I was being a jerk, but I didn’t know what else to do. It's totally fucked up.’

Charles lets out a breath against his neck, almost a laugh. ‘It’s ok,’ he says. ‘You know I said you deserved a chance to explain yourself? Well I think you did. God, Erik, what a mess.’

‘Yeah,’ Erik mutters. He glances up at Raven. She looks hunched and slightly blurred round the edges of her form. He wishes he hadn’t said all that in front of her, but she recovers quickly, pulls herself together and realigns her forthright persona.

‘Look, humans are scary, and they're scared of us,' she says a little uncertainly, 'I get that. But that's got nothing to do with Charles.’

‘I know,’ Erik says. Charles couldn’t be less scary right now, all warm and clingy and loving.

‘So, does this mean you’re going to keep on being a jerk, or doesn’t it?’ she asks. ‘Because that was kind of the purpose here.’

‘Raven, there’s a time and a place,’ Charles protests.

It's stupid, absolutely nothing has changed, but somehow just saying it all out loud, knowing that Charles sort of understands, makes things bearable. He hugs Charles a little tighter. ‘No, I think I’m done being a jerk, if I get another chance to prove it.’ Decision made, he thinks. It’s such an astonishing relief.

‘Oh,’ says Charles, blinking up at him. ‘Oh! Do you mean we are dating now? Because in case I didn’t make it clear you’re totally forgiven and I’d really like it, and I’m surprised you’re ok with it but I’m not going to complain, and…’

‘Oh thank god,’ says Raven. ‘Charles, stop babbling. Erik, I may yet forgive you too because I’m getting kind of sick of hating you. Now I’m going to go talk to your mom while you guys make up or make out or whatever.’

‘Please don’t talk to my mom,’ Erik says. Whatever they talk about, Raven is going to take malicious pleasure in spreading it all over the school. But Charles has gone all happy and nuzzly in his lap. He can catch Raven or he can snuggle with Charles and there’s really no contest. Besides, she’s already out of the room.

Kissing Charles without the weight of deceit on his shoulders is simple and wonderful. ‘God, you’re amazing,’ Erik says, lips moving against soft skin. ‘Also completely mad. You know if we do this for real we’ll have Riptide and Azazel and Emma out for our blood, right?’

’You can keep them in line,’ Charles says cheerfully. ‘In fact you’ll have to because I reserve the right to run like buggery whenever they come near us.’

‘Agreed,’ Erik says. ‘I take responsibility for Emma. But if my mom gives Raven any baby pictures today it’s your job to retrieve and burn them.’

‘Even if they’re cute?’

‘They won’t be,’ Erik says with certainty. ‘They will be the most humiliating ones she can lay her hands on. You met her, right? She's always like that.’

He leans in for another kiss, but Charles pulls away laughing. ’So, um, by the way,’ he says, snagging something from the floor by Erik’s knee, ‘I found this on the bed. I like it. I want it. Can I keep it?’

He opens his hand. He’s holding the knight, still encased in its iron armour.

‘That’s part of my chess set,’ Erik objects.

Charles smiles sunnily. ‘Obviously. Can I keep it?’

‘Yes,’ Erik says. ‘Of course you can.’

Charles hums with satisfaction and snuggles back in for the kiss.

Once again, the school is bristling with pointing fingers.

‘You’re freaking out,’ Erik says. ‘Don’t freak out, it’s ok.’

‘Everybody’s looking at us,’ Charles mutters. ‘Every single person in this hallway is looking at us.’

Everybody in the previous hallway was looking at them too. In fact, they’ve collected quite a following. This is what happens when a staunchly pro-mutant hard-case presents a sweetly nerdish intellectual human with a red rose on the front steps of the school.

Charles, on realising what was happening, had collapsed against Erik’s chest in a fit of helpless giggles, but when Erik had detached him he’d taken the flower and smiled and smiled.

He’s still smiling but it’s half-hidden behind a look of nervous awe at the stir they’re causing.

‘Why shouldn’t they look?’ Erik says soothingly. ‘You’re totally worth looking at.’ He unslings his arm from around Charles’s shoulders and tilts his chin up with one hand. ‘Very pretty. I think I’ll keep you.’

The audience approves. The hubbub of voices increases as people crane to see, intermingled with a couple of whistles. ‘Kiss him!’ calls a girl from the sidelines, to a general ripple of assent from most of the female student body.

Erik grins and looks speculatively at Charles, who appears mildly astonished. He leans back hastily. ‘Don’t you dare, Erik.’

‘What are you going to do about it?’ Erik says, smugly aware that Charles wouldn’t do anything except wriggle happily and get increasingly shameless.

Charles does his patented dazed blink thing, then recovers, laughs and pulls away. ‘No, sorry, you’re not that irresistible, and we’re not a circus side show.’ He tucks himself back under Erik’s arm and nudges them both into motion.

There’s a disappointed little chorus of ‘aw’s. Then, all of a sudden, everyone goes quiet. Erik spins round to find Azazel, Riptide and Havok walking towards him.

Right, he thinks. Time for the ‘Don’t fuck with my boyfriend, bitches,’ speech.

It’s pretty good. He practised it in front of the mirror for an hour last night.

The guys stand in a line across the corridor. Azazel’s tail is flicking, and a little gust of wind sets their hair and clothes fluttering. It all looks very dramatic.

‘Erik,’ Azazel says coldly.

‘Erik,’ Riptide says, scowling.

‘Hey, Erik,’ Havok says. ‘Dude, I totally dented my dad’s car. Can you help me out?’

Ok, that’s not in the script.

Azazel swivels round to glare at him. ‘Jesus Christ, Havok, do you pay any attention to anything at all?’

‘What?’ Havok says. ‘Look, this is serious.’

Erik stares at him, then shoves Charles forwards. ‘Hey, you’ve met my boyfriend, right?’

Charles gives a little wave.

‘Oh, yeah, hey,’ Havok says cheerfully. ‘Listen, it’s the tiniest little dent, ok? It hardly even exists. But, like today, before I get grounded for a million years.’

Erik finds himself sharing a despairing glance with Azazel. Their showdown is ruined. It’s disappointing. Then he meets Riptide’s furious eyes and realises that with him, at least, there’s going to be another one. Wind whips down the corridor again, fast and violent, knocking Charles half off his feet. Erik pulls him back and clamps him against his side.

‘Fuck you, Erik,’ Riptide says. ‘That’s it, we’re done.’ He turns and walks away, the breeze following loyally at his heel.

Havok frowns. ‘What was that about.’

‘Erik’s. Dating. A human,’ Azazel explains patiently.

‘Yeah, I know,’ Havok says. ‘Look, Erik, uncool, but I really need your help with this car.’

Charles is suddenly shaking against Erik’s side, and it takes Erik a second to realise that he’s trying to smother another giggling fit. He elbows him in the ribs. Charles makes a tiny choking noise and subsides.

‘Christ,’ Azazel says to the world in general. ‘I’m surrounded by lunatics. Erik’s love-struck, Riptide’s homicidal, Havok’s a moron and the girls won't stop fucking laughing. I think the human boy-toy with the vivisection fantasies is the sanest one around.’

Charles gives him a sympathetic look. ‘You know, I kind of think I’m the sanest one around too.’

It’s actually surprisingly nice, having a human boyfriend. Suddenly there seem to be a whole lot more people around.

Erik already knows the footballers and the cheerleaders and the other notable figures, of course. You really can’t get through high school only talking to six other people in your class. He knows his lab partners and the kids who throw good parties. None of them are important though. They’re just faces in the crowd.

But the Charles loves people. He's honestly interested in anyone who's willing to talk to him. He smiles and makes friends, and while Erik is tempted to glower at the puny humans until they realise their unworthiness and go away, he can’t do that in front of Charles. It would make him sad.

People he’s been vaguely aware of for years now wave at him in the corridors. Everyone suddenly thinks he's approachable. He gets asked to help with things. One day after football practice one of the most clean-cut, all American guys on the team even takes him aside and, earnestly, explains that he’s gay and he’d like some advice on coming out to his rather straight-laced parents. ‘Charles said I should talk to you,’ he says.

‘Why did you tell him that?’ Erik asks Charles afterwards.

‘Hmm?’ says Charles. He’s lying on his stomach on a desk, feet kicked up in the air, frowning over his French homework. ‘Help me, I’m stuck.’ He chews thoughtfully on the end of his ballpoint pen. ‘How do I say “my boyfriend is very handsome”?’

Erik snatches the book away. ‘What the hell are you writing about?’ He scans down the page. It’s a variation on the theme of What I did at the weekend, the scanty sentences padded out with several cartoon drawings of the two of them at the movie theatre, at the fairground and at the ice rink. ‘Charles, this never even happened.’

‘They’re the words I know,’ Charles protests. ‘You try writing, “I watched a mutant shooting laser beams at a metal ball in a quarry.”’

‘You’ve drawn little hearts,’ Erik groans.

Charles nods. ‘Madame Dubois thinks we’re sweet. I’m hoping it’ll get me a better grade than my French actually deserves.’

Erik has to admit that he needs all the help he can get. ‘You’re a really pathetic genius,’ he tells Charles, handing back the book. ‘I bet you faked your degrees. Alright, I won’t tear up your cartoons if you answer my question. Why did you tell him to talk to me?’

‘You mean Steve?’ Charles says. ‘I didn’t tell him to talk to you, I told him it would be ok to talk to you, when he asked. He’s been considering it for weeks.’

‘Why?’ Erik frowns.

Charles swings his legs round and sits up. ‘Why? Don’t be silly, Erik. You’re gay, you’re his team captain, you’ve been out for ages. Why wouldn’t he want to talk to you? I hope you were nice to him.’

‘Of course I was nice to him,’ Erik says. He had been, once he’d got over the genuinely baffling concept that he was now some kind of agony aunt. ‘Why wouldn’t I be nice to him? Oh, shut up,’ he adds, as Charles raises an eyebrow. ‘Humans are cute, fluffy creatures with no evil schemes to annihilate my kind. Sure.’

Charles shrugs. ‘I can’t speak for the whole of humanity, but I’m pretty sure Steve doesn’t have any evil schemes. I like him.’

Charles like everyone. It’s detrimental to Erik’s comfort.

As it turns out, most of the mutants like Charles in return. Azazel still eyes him with suspicion but Havok’s utterly unconcerned and Jubilee and Angel have condescendingly decided that he’s adorable. Even Emma’s being subtle in her cruelty, though she gives the impression that she’s batting at Charles with her paws right now but the claws could come out at any second.

Riptide takes every opportunity to jostle him in the halls and make threatening comments. The dreadful thing is that Charles actually manages to like him too, in his bizarrely empathetic way. He doesn’t mind. He understands.

Erik doesn't let it stop him from punching Riptide repeatedly in the face. Charles seems to understand that too.

All in all, Charles becomes swiftly assimilated into the mutant group.

But then there’s Steve. That, thinking back, is the first proper crack in their defences.

It only really occurs to Erik what’s happened one weekend, when they’ve congregated in the park for hotdogs and chilling out. The girls are there too, having spotted them after a shopping trip and decided they were also in need of sustenance. Now they’re sitting with Charles in a neat circle under a tree, gathered around a sketch pad, and the rest are sprawled in the sun.

‘Ok, so how about this?’ Mary Jane says, flicking a page and shoving the book at Angel. ‘Sort of 1940s style, you know?’

Emma raises an eyebrow, but her expression could almost be construed as approval. ‘It would be an improvement on last year, Angel darling,’ she says. ‘I was ready to disown you after that travesty with the fishnets.’

Angel regards it with suspicion. ‘I don’t think I do 1940s.’

‘You could,’ Mary Jane tells her, ‘if you didn’t feel the need to show every inch of skin. Anyway, that’s one of Jan’s designs, I prefer this. Slinky, right? That’s more you.’

‘I think so,’ Charles says, peering over her shoulder. ‘You’d look lovely in that, Angel.’

Charles looks altogether too interested, in Erik’s opinion. ‘Come back over here,’ he orders, patting the patch of grass beside him. ‘I can handle the genetics obsession, but if you’re going to get into fashion then we’re through.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Peter moans. ‘I have to deal with it every single day.’

Peter. Mary Jane. Humans. How has this become normal?

There’s a sudden bamf of red. Azazel falls out of the air accompanied by Steve, who is hauling him in by the tail. They spring apart and Steve grins. ‘See? You don’t keep control of it so it’s really easy to grab. But show me that move with the flip, will you?’

Azazel scowls. ‘Erik, since when is Steve-the-quarterback a black belt in everything?’

‘Since always,’ Steve says smugly.

Azazel flicks away and reappears behind him. Steve spins and grabs him in a neat lock. ‘Predictable. You know, you telegraph your teleportation like crazy. But we can work on it,’ he says, and they vanish again.

A few feet away, Tony is marking out the positions of super-lethal-mutant-ball with twigs and leaves. ‘I’d be pretty useful here,’ he says to Havok, ‘and you need another player. I can build my own laser. Plus plenty of padding, and maybe a skateboard or something, it’d be fair.’