round 3 overflow post

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Round 3 Overflow Post

This post is for Round 3 fills only. We ask that when a round hits 8500 comments, fillers begin moving their fills to this post.

Format:
SUBJECT LINE -- Round #, short description of fic (ex: "Alex/Hank, lab partners")
--- Link to the prompt
--- Text of the prompt

--- Link to the fill
OR
--- Entire text of the fill

EXAMPLE:
Prompt: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6437.html?thread=1038472#t2038174

Charles/Erik -- Charles is a bakery owner whose most frequent customer is Erik.

Fill: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6437.html?thread=0139482#t4502942

Charles started off the morning the same way he always did...

Comments

FILL: The Better Men (19b/30ish)

[(Anonymous)]

Erik hadn't expected to be dodging breakfast tables, of course, but whoever had designed the decor for this ball – Emma Frost's committee, wasn't it? – had gone all out. The stone walls were now mirrors that seemed to expand the room into infinity. The usual floating candles had been replaced with gas lamps, the black silhouettes of bats and ravens darting between them. A chilly breeze seemed to wind through the room, carrying a subtle moan that hit the back-of-neck hairs long before the ears perceived it. Overhead, the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall showed a pale coin of moonlight through a veil of swift-moving clouds. 'The moon was a ghostly galleon, tossed upon cloudy seas,' wasn't that from some old poem Charles had loved –

"Exquisite, isn't it?"

Erik turned to see Professor Shaw approaching, dressed and masked in white to match the snowy elegance of his date.

"My Emma does amazing work," Shaw continued, turning to kiss her hand. Emma beamed, which was possibly the first time Erik had ever seen the woman smile in a non-poisonous manner.

"It's astonishing," Erik admitted.

"Speaking of which, Angel, you are certainly at the top of your form." Shaw bowed over her hand, and now it was Angel's turn to beam. She had quite a nice smile, Erik had to admit, dimpled and sweet. "But I didn't know you two were coming together! Keeping secrets from your headmaster?"

Erik cleared his throat uncomfortably, but Angel saved him the trouble of answering. "It was a bit last-minute, sir."

"Well, I'm very glad to see it. I hope you two have a grand time, I think you'd be good for each other."

"Oh, look, Sebastian, Mr. Singer's here," Emma murmured.

"Must dash," Shaw sighed, "a host's burden..."

Erik managed a tight nod, and watched Shaw and Emma circulate onward, white moths in the shadowy ballroom. He let Angel tow him toward the refreshments, still trying to absorb their surroundings. The room was a swirl of skirts and long-tailed jackets, familiar faces made strange by masks and unusual clothes. Quite a few people, he realized, he truly didn't know. Surely not that many teachers had imported dates...

"Isn't that the Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office?" Angel said at his elbow. "And I know that guy is some kind of junior assistant to the Minister. Goodness, Sebastian's made an event of it."

"Who's that with Professor Azazel?"

"His date, apparently. Didn't catch his name, but rumor is Az brought him in all the way from Spain. No one's sure how he got here so fast. Pretty, isn't he?" She grinned and turned her attention to the refreshments. Erik let her wander down the table without him; he couldn't imagine trying to eat right now.

"Oh, come on, Charles, you look fantastic!"

"I look like Peter Pan's more flamboyant brother," came the hissing reply.

Erik turned, and felt his higher thought processes grind to a halt.

Charles and Raven were a shimmering spectacle of peacock blue and green, crowns of glitter-crusted leaves in their hair, brilliant butterfly wings on their backs that looked perfectly permanent and natural. (If anyone could do that, after all, it was Raven Darkholme, Professor of Transfiguration.) Raven's shoulders were bare, her legs more enhanced than concealed by the fluttering petals of her skirt.

Charles's costume consisted mostly of blue and green glitter. A mask, of course, swirling blue and green; crown of leaves, wings, yes; leaf-trimmed boots and a tiny pair of shorts that Erik really couldn't afford to examine too closely. But mostly just... glitter, painted into complex swirls and curlicues on his face, across his shoulders, down his arms, his chest, the smooth softness of his stomach...

Erik swallowed hard and tried not to actually let his eyes cross.

Charles caught sight of Erik at last, those bright eyes unmistakable through the mask (as if you didn't recognize every inch of the man anyway), and was Erik imagining a sudden rosy tint spreading across that sparkling skin? It rather clashed with the blue.