The walk from Ms. McTaggert’s room to the auditorium had never seemed so long to Charles before, each step having its own unique sense of doom to it. If this plan of Erik’s failed, if even one thing went wrong, he’s going to be expelled and he’ll never get into Oxford or anywhere else worth going, all his dreams turned to ashes when their fire was still merely embers. He’s going to end up living off the family’s money and end up being a recluse with several cats or creating his own genetic Frankenstein or like his mother, or-
“Or you could stop projecting such ridiculous thoughts and get in here before Shaw gets on stage and we miss our chance to reveal him for the bastard that he is,” Erik calls with a small snort, sliding out of the auditorium and closing the gap between him and Charles in a matter of seconds, arm sliding around Charles’ waist and fingers gently splaying across his hips. “And there is no chance in hell that you would ever let yourself end up like your mother.”
Charles leans into the touch, taking a deep breath and trying to steady himself against Erik’s lean frame. Charles takes Erik’s had and pulls him down a few steps, pausing when they got to the auditorium door. “You have more faith in me than I do, Erik.”
Erik gives him a dark look, and Charles can practically see the questions Erik’s dangling on the edge of Erik’s lips, only a warning shake of the head from the Charles keeping them from coming loose. Now is really not the time to talk about his issues with his mother or their effect on his self-esteem.
Instead, they push their way past a gaggle of cheerleaders, all of them eyeing Charles with something akin to hatred. Looks like Emma hadn’t been the only one gunning to be Erik’s girlfriend this year. Charles merely smiles at them in response and wraps his fingers around Erik’s own just a hair tighter than before, and if he radiates smugness, well, could anyone really blame him?
“I’m not sure turning the pep squad against you is really going to help your case, Charles,” Erik whispers with a slight frown, gazing back at the cheerleaders, who look like they might start spewing venom at Charles at any moment. Charles merely gives him a slightly mad grin in return, because it doesn’t really matter if everyone in the entire student body hates him as long as he has Erik, Raven, and Hank. And Sean, apparently.
Charles started to answer, one hand brushing against Erik’s hip teasingly, but stilled when he felt a familiar presence walk through the auditorium backdoors. Shaw.
The man purses when he catches sight Charles and Erik, gaze an intermingling of hate and lust rolling off of him so strong that Charles couldn’t stop himself from shuddering. Yeah, he might still end up throwing up before everything was said and done after all. “Mr. Xavier, to what do I owe the pleasure? Did Hank mention my proposition to you?”
“Mentioned and no offense, but there are some things that aren’t worth touching even for Oxford,” Charles answers back as he gives Shaw’s body a once over, face a perfect mask of polite boredom. Erik gapes at him in horror and something akin to awe, and Shaw’s face had turned a shade of red that Charles would never have believed human skin capable of doing so before now, fingers clenching against his palms.
And okay, in retrospect, the moment when his entire academic future rested in Shaw’s hands might not have been the time to mock his sexual prowess, but the man had left himself open for it. That was hardly Charles’ fault.
“Then I hope you enjoy losing that golden ticket to Oxford, Xavier,” Shaw murmurs as he leans in, and Charles swears some spit hits him in the face. Erik deftly pulls Charles aside then, placing himself halfway between Shaw and Charles, the look on his face dangerous in a way that filled Charles with a heady anticipation, though for what he wasn’t sure of what yet. Erik, don’t be brave. I refuse to take you down with me.
Fill: Judging A Book By the Wrong Cover 8A, SlutShaming, Rumors, Attempted NonCon, Sexual Harassment
“Or you could stop projecting such ridiculous thoughts and get in here before Shaw gets on stage and we miss our chance to reveal him for the bastard that he is,” Erik calls with a small snort, sliding out of the auditorium and closing the gap between him and Charles in a matter of seconds, arm sliding around Charles’ waist and fingers gently splaying across his hips. “And there is no chance in hell that you would ever let yourself end up like your mother.”
Charles leans into the touch, taking a deep breath and trying to steady himself against Erik’s lean frame. Charles takes Erik’s had and pulls him down a few steps, pausing when they got to the auditorium door. “You have more faith in me than I do, Erik.”
Erik gives him a dark look, and Charles can practically see the questions Erik’s dangling on the edge of Erik’s lips, only a warning shake of the head from the Charles keeping them from coming loose. Now is really not the time to talk about his issues with his mother or their effect on his self-esteem.
Instead, they push their way past a gaggle of cheerleaders, all of them eyeing Charles with something akin to hatred. Looks like Emma hadn’t been the only one gunning to be Erik’s girlfriend this year. Charles merely smiles at them in response and wraps his fingers around Erik’s own just a hair tighter than before, and if he radiates smugness, well, could anyone really blame him?
“I’m not sure turning the pep squad against you is really going to help your case, Charles,” Erik whispers with a slight frown, gazing back at the cheerleaders, who look like they might start spewing venom at Charles at any moment. Charles merely gives him a slightly mad grin in return, because it doesn’t really matter if everyone in the entire student body hates him as long as he has Erik, Raven, and Hank. And Sean, apparently.
Charles started to answer, one hand brushing against Erik’s hip teasingly, but stilled when he felt a familiar presence walk through the auditorium backdoors. Shaw.
The man purses when he catches sight Charles and Erik, gaze an intermingling of hate and lust rolling off of him so strong that Charles couldn’t stop himself from shuddering. Yeah, he might still end up throwing up before everything was said and done after all. “Mr. Xavier, to what do I owe the pleasure? Did Hank mention my proposition to you?”
“Mentioned and no offense, but there are some things that aren’t worth touching even for Oxford,” Charles answers back as he gives Shaw’s body a once over, face a perfect mask of polite boredom. Erik gapes at him in horror and something akin to awe, and Shaw’s face had turned a shade of red that Charles would never have believed human skin capable of doing so before now, fingers clenching against his palms.
And okay, in retrospect, the moment when his entire academic future rested in Shaw’s hands might not have been the time to mock his sexual prowess, but the man had left himself open for it. That was hardly Charles’ fault.
“Then I hope you enjoy losing that golden ticket to Oxford, Xavier,” Shaw murmurs as he leans in, and Charles swears some spit hits him in the face. Erik deftly pulls Charles aside then, placing himself halfway between Shaw and Charles, the look on his face dangerous in a way that filled Charles with a heady anticipation, though for what he wasn’t sure of what yet. Erik, don’t be brave. I refuse to take you down with me.