Okay, so, the amazing mirime made this beautiful comic (http://celluloidfloozy.tumblr.com/post/16415824297/everyday-love-in-stockholm-i-just-found-this-fic) of the scene where Charles and Erik discuss Doctor Faustus in Part Three, and it's so atmospheric and perfect. Thank you again, bb, I love it!
Everyday Love in Stockholm is now also on AO3! (http://archiveofourown.org/works/324068) I'll be updating it alongside this thread here. Please be aware that due to my own anal need to organise this by parts instead of chapters new bits will be added to the end of what's called 'chapter four' instead of as a new chapter, so I don't think the new subscriptions feed will work for it. Sorry to be awkward! Also, for some reason their HTML hates me, so I am trying to fix it but the spacing might be a bit weird, sorry :/
XXIII
“What mansion?” Erik asks, and then immediately feels stupid, because he knows very well which mansion she means. Charles has never really spoken about it, but he knows from Raven that they came from money, that they were raised rich in a world very unlike the one he had grown up in. Everything he knows about Charles’ childhood is extrapolated from Raven’s, from her stories of their games and pranks and of Charles looking after her, or more often her looking after him, of the two of them the stronger, the most able to dissuade bullies from taking her on and by extension Charles. He knows which mansion she must mean.
“Mine,” Charles says, and though his face is wet his voice is bland, wiped clean of emotion. “Let’s not call it that, it sounds so pretentious. ‘The house’ is much better, less Little Lord Fauntleroy. I suppose they must have thought I might be inside.”
Raven snorts, the sound wetter than usual, detracting from the humour. “Not likely.”
“Yes, well, I don’t suppose they know me or you particularly well, darling.” And Charles kisses her temple, a light press of lips as his arms tighten around her.
Erik wonders if he ought to be jealous, perhaps. He has so little experience with these sorts of relationships, after all; nonetheless, he cannot find it in him to begrudge affection to Raven, even if he can’t offer it himself. He looks at the two of them and considers the space beside Charles, wonders what’s expected of him in this sort of a situation, and cannot quite bring himself to sit beside them when he might not be welcome, to insert himself into their discrete group of two. He stands uselessly, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, and all he can come up with to say is, “I’m sorry.”
“Why? You didn’t do it, not unless you’ve been moonlighting for the opposition,” Charles says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t look so glum. I hated that house. Really.”
Raven frowns and pulls away with difficulty, sitting up straight so she can look her brother in the eye. “Not really.”
“No?”
“You hated the people in it. You loved the house.”
The expression on Charles’ face turns bitter, a startling twist that changes him into someone new entirely, someone Erik doesn’t know. It’s both disturbing and fascinating, like the sliver of a cracked-open door that has always been locked. “Ah, well. Kurt did make it so very easy, after all.”
“Kurt?” Erik asks, before he can stop himself.
“Our - Charles’ - stepfather.” Raven’s mouth purses up like she’s bitten into a lemon. “Let’s just leave it at he was an asshole, and not in the mostly affectionate way I call you an asshole. And Sharon - ”
“Not now, Raven,” Charles says sharply, and Raven is instantly silenced, something Erik has never seen before.
Was, she had said. Hated. Past tense. “He’s dead, then?”
“Very.” Charles has been sitting so stiffly, supporting Raven’s weight without bending; now he slumps back against the couch cushions, tilting his head back against the seat and looking up at the ceiling instead of meeting Erik’s eyes. “He died saving my life, the bastard. After all those years of beatings and tongue-lashings, he goes and does a thing like that. I could have forgiven him everything else if he hadn’t gone and done something so bloody selfless right at the end and made it impossible to just let myself hate him.”
FILL: Everyday Love in Stockholm 125/?
Everyday Love in Stockholm is now also on AO3! (http://archiveofourown.org/works/324068) I'll be updating it alongside this thread here. Please be aware that due to my own anal need to organise this by parts instead of chapters new bits will be added to the end of what's called 'chapter four' instead of as a new chapter, so I don't think the new subscriptions feed will work for it. Sorry to be awkward! Also, for some reason their HTML hates me, so I am trying to fix it but the spacing might be a bit weird, sorry :/
“What mansion?” Erik asks, and then immediately feels stupid, because he knows very well which mansion she means. Charles has never really spoken about it, but he knows from Raven that they came from money, that they were raised rich in a world very unlike the one he had grown up in. Everything he knows about Charles’ childhood is extrapolated from Raven’s, from her stories of their games and pranks and of Charles looking after her, or more often her looking after him, of the two of them the stronger, the most able to dissuade bullies from taking her on and by extension Charles. He knows which mansion she must mean.
“Mine,” Charles says, and though his face is wet his voice is bland, wiped clean of emotion. “Let’s not call it that, it sounds so pretentious. ‘The house’ is much better, less Little Lord Fauntleroy. I suppose they must have thought I might be inside.”
Raven snorts, the sound wetter than usual, detracting from the humour. “Not likely.”
“Yes, well, I don’t suppose they know me or you particularly well, darling.” And Charles kisses her temple, a light press of lips as his arms tighten around her.
Erik wonders if he ought to be jealous, perhaps. He has so little experience with these sorts of relationships, after all; nonetheless, he cannot find it in him to begrudge affection to Raven, even if he can’t offer it himself. He looks at the two of them and considers the space beside Charles, wonders what’s expected of him in this sort of a situation, and cannot quite bring himself to sit beside them when he might not be welcome, to insert himself into their discrete group of two. He stands uselessly, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, and all he can come up with to say is, “I’m sorry.”
“Why? You didn’t do it, not unless you’ve been moonlighting for the opposition,” Charles says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t look so glum. I hated that house. Really.”
Raven frowns and pulls away with difficulty, sitting up straight so she can look her brother in the eye. “Not really.”
“No?”
“You hated the people in it. You loved the house.”
The expression on Charles’ face turns bitter, a startling twist that changes him into someone new entirely, someone Erik doesn’t know. It’s both disturbing and fascinating, like the sliver of a cracked-open door that has always been locked. “Ah, well. Kurt did make it so very easy, after all.”
“Kurt?” Erik asks, before he can stop himself.
“Our - Charles’ - stepfather.” Raven’s mouth purses up like she’s bitten into a lemon. “Let’s just leave it at he was an asshole, and not in the mostly affectionate way I call you an asshole. And Sharon - ”
“Not now, Raven,” Charles says sharply, and Raven is instantly silenced, something Erik has never seen before.
Was, she had said. Hated. Past tense. “He’s dead, then?”
“Very.” Charles has been sitting so stiffly, supporting Raven’s weight without bending; now he slumps back against the couch cushions, tilting his head back against the seat and looking up at the ceiling instead of meeting Erik’s eyes. “He died saving my life, the bastard. After all those years of beatings and tongue-lashings, he goes and does a thing like that. I could have forgiven him everything else if he hadn’t gone and done something so bloody selfless right at the end and made it impossible to just let myself hate him.”