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 198/?

[tahariel.livejournal.com]

They meander into one of the smaller side-passageways and walk for a while, side by side, not speaking. It’s so green out here, the elaborate landscaping and topiary on every side mirrored and kept perfectly preserved, like a painting of the past; there’s nobody else around, the two of them alone in some strange Eden. Erik tries to think of something he can say, what would be the right thing to say to Charles after all of this time and after everything that had happened. It used to be easy to talk to him, before.

The trees lean over them from either side, make it a long archway of dappled green-gold sunlight, a susurrus of wind in the leaves. There are smaller bowers to either side, smaller gardens, fountain-studded and well-groomed. Charles beside him is a sweet ache, one he cannot look at and yet cannot not look at. Eventually Erik says, as neutrally as he can manage, “I hear you’re working with PIP now.”

A momentary pause, then, “Yes, Moira was very happy to let me get involved. The Xavier money never hurts, of course, but it seems she wanted me for my mind,” Charles says, and he sounds excited, getting more enthusiastic as he speaks; his hands come back into play, open and gesturing along with his words. “She’s helping me get back into teaching, too - along with some public speaking, here and there. I’m to run for a seat in Little Parliament next election.”

Erik smiles at him, for him, as they come out of the avenue and into a bright open space full of red and purple and yellow and white flowers, stunningly beautiful, like an untamed meadow in the middle of all of the carefully-contained, trimmed back hedgerows and uniform grass, insects buzzing and birds singing, and at the far side, a long slope down toward the shining surface of the Grand Canal like a far off strip of silver.

“I had a dream like this, once,” Erik says, coming to a halt, and Charles glances up at him curiously, luminous in the warm sun. “We were in a garden, and I was gone and you were happy.”

“Do you really think that would make me happy?” Charles lifts a hand to shade his eyes, and his face and voice are blank, utterly blank of anything that might give Erik a cue of what to say, what to do.

Better not to touch on an answer, he thinks, and starts walking again, down toward the slope, hopes Charles will follow. “I also heard you’re rebuilding the manor.”

The human comes after him, more slowly this time, not quite level so they don’t have to look one another in the eye. “Yes, I’ve hired a firm who say they can recreate it from the filed floorplans. With a few sensible adjustments, of course, since we’ve the chance. The pantry was always in the most ridiculous place, and there’s really no need for a servant’s staircase any more.”

“Mmm, of course.”

“I still love you, too, by the way,” Charles says, and smiles, a little, when Erik turns to stare, wide-eyed and abruptly off-balance. “I just thought you should know.”

“…were you waiting to see if you didn’t?” Erik asks, once he’s opened and closed his mouth a few times. His heart is pounding in his chest, hard enough he feels dizzy with it, surely loud enough to hear from outside.