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 (19i/30ish)

[(Anonymous)]

"Are we going to argue about leading again?" Charles laughed as they stumbled over each other.

"You're still shorter, and I still initiated the dance," Erik said.

"Very well," Charles sighed, moved his hand to Erik's shoulder, and they fell into step.

Fell right into step, even after so long, and all the proper waltzing space between them lasted about three steps before it began closing, seemingly of its own accord, their hands migrating from their proper places –

Like a river flows
Surely to the sea
Darling, so it goes
Some things are meant to be

-- and Erik wanted, foolishly, to point out See how I don't care that people are staring? See how I've learned my lesson? and actually people weren't even staring very much. Azazel had his pretty Spanish boy and no one was terribly concerned; one of the Ministry ladies was dancing with Emma Frost, to Shaw's evident amusement. That amusement evaporated instantly on seeing Erik with Charles, but Erik paid that no mind whatsoever, even less than he did to the 'I knew it' delight on Moira and Sean Cassidy's faces as they spun by.

In fact, it took him maybe sixty seconds to stop noticing that anyone else was in the room at all. Nothing could possibly matter more than closing the scant inch left between himself and Charles, one hand curling around Charles's waist, the other sliding up his back, carefully avoiding the gleaming blue wings – warm bare skin, glitter catching on his fingertips – his breath stuttered when he found the faint bite scar on Charles's shoulder, souvenir of their first time – two clueless teenagers, half-ecstatic, half-terrified, clinging to each other for dear life… He traced it with his fingertips, barely touching, and felt Charles shiver.

They still fit together so perfectly, Charles instinctively tucking himself under Erik's chin, arms winding around his neck. They weren't anything like waltzing anymore, simply wrapped together and swaying to the music.

Take my hand
Take my whole life too…

The female singer had joined in, and her glimmering soprano descant nudged their rendition of the song from strangely melancholy to haunting, a far cry from the straightforward romantic ballad of years ago. That seemed appropriate; the same song, made bleak by years of mistakes and misunderstandings, but the same song underneath.

For I can't help
Falling in love with you

Erik didn't try a repeat of the juvenile dip attempt; there was no joke in this dance. He told himself he shouldn’t try anything at all, shouldn't press his luck, but as the music trailed away, he found he couldn't simply let go. Their foreheads were touching now, breath brushing unsteadily against each other's faces – it was the easiest thing in the world to lean forward, just that extra inch and a half –

Charles drew in a sharp breath and pulled away – not entirely, only leaning back, but the 'no' was clear and it stung, like cold water dashed in his face after the warm glow of the dance.

"Why not?" Erik murmured, keeping carefully still, no need to tense up, he wasn't angry.

"Erik…" Charles's voice was pleading. "It's… It's not like we disagree on sports teams, or dogs versus cats, is it? It's not something we can compromise on, or just agree to disagree—"

"I am so tired of talking about this." He shouldn't be angry, he knew he shouldn't, it wasn't as though any of this were a surprise. Things had just been going so well…

"Erik, where did you—" Angel's voice on the edge of the dancefloor hit his nerves like an off-key note. He could tell when she caught sight of them by the loud, startled "Oh," followed by a timid, uncomfortable "...Erik?"

"You should attend to your date," Charles whispered.

"My date can go hang—"

"No." Charles's voice was nearly a snap. "You will not embarrass that poor girl just because you are angry with me. You will be a gentlem—"

"You know, Charles, you're dreadfully dictatorial for someone who has repeatedly declined any right to involvement in my life choices." He stepped back – it hurt so badly to not be touching him anymore – and bent into a deep bow, as sarcastically as he could manage. "Good evening to you, Professor."

"Erik—"