round 3 overflow post

[starkmodistries.livejournal.com]

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: Everyday Love in Stockholm 159/?

[tahariel.livejournal.com]

It’s stupid, he knows this, even as he looks down at Kurt where the baby is still looking up at him trustingly from flat on his back on the mat, limbs jiggling excitedly because Erik is paying him attention. Kurt has only just learnt to lift his own head, he’s hardly competition. But. He keeps Charles busy, and interested, and gives him something to think about when Erik is not around, which is good, but it spills over into the time when Kurt isn’t there, too.

“What do you want?” Erik asks, and Kurt says, “Ooooo,” and waves his little hands, fingers curling and uncurling into fists.

He gets up slowly, dusting off his knees. “Alright. I have work to do. You stay there.”

“Buh,” says Kurt.

Erik sits down and turns his attention back to the documents Emma had told him had to be read by tomorrow, and tries to ignore the little blue wiggle he can see from the corner of his eye, the occasional coos and exclamations as Kurt discovers another toe he had forgotten he had.

When Charles comes out of the bathroom he only pauses by Erik long enough to brush his hand over Erik’s shoulder briefly before going to the baby and scooping him up again, as though he cannot bear to put him down.



LVI

Japan falls. It took longer than predicted, after China got involved, but once the Mutant Underground of Singapore start their own uprising the front is split and the former powerhouse’s faltering resources aren’t enough to quash both.

Or, indeed, as it turns out, either.

The backlash spreads from country to country in Asia until, like dominoes, one after another, they come under mutant control. Magneto watches with something he can only describe as pride.



LVII

Of course the Europeans don’t like it at all.



LVIII

In September Charles takes to wearing his oversized sweaters again, wrapping himself up in them with every sign of enjoyment at being swaddled in wool. This one is grey and cable-knit, apparently an old favourite, thin at the elbows and stretched so that the v-neck lies wide and low, slumping as though it might slip off at any time. Erik can’t help but think it would be lovely if Charles weren’t wearing the white shirt underneath it, if it just bared a whole swathe of his shoulders and chest for Erik to slide his hands down and inside the sweater, over all that skin. Mornings are slowly becoming dimmer, the sun growing more sluggish as autumn creeps in. Outside it’s only just starting to lighten, long fingers of sunlight creeping inbetween the buildings and reflecting from windows.

He himself is shirtless; it’s a little chilly, perhaps, but the new easiness between them has left him more comfortable within his own flesh, scars and all. There’s a certain level of enjoyment in not thinking about it, though the first time Raven had walked in when he had his shirt off she had gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth, the other one cradling Kurt’s head against her shoulder. It had taken a while to get her to calm down, and he’d had to bat her hands away when she’d reached out to try to touch one of them, uncomfortable and too damn proud to go put on a shirt once she’d already seen.

Charles has seen them all, and never flinches.

“I’d really like to publish some of my work,” Charles says as Erik is lifting his coffee mug to his mouth, and looks up at him over the newest of the journals Erik has liberated from McCoy downstairs, meeting his eyes with the sort of calm he only adopts when he knows he’s asking Erik for something he won’t want to give. “It seems like such a waste if nobody else is ever going to see it.”

It’s really difficult to pull a face and swallow his coffee at the same time, but Erik manages, somehow. “How would you do that without your name on it?”

Charles frowns. “Of course my name would be on it. It’s my work. It’s not as though it would have my address printed alongside it to call the angry mobs to our doorstep.”