Cherik One Shots

One Minute

Summary- In attempt to bond with the students at the school, childish games ensued and Charles and Erik were locked into a closet for 7 minutes.

Warnings- fluff, smut

Word count- 3016

***

A warm summer's night gathered Charles' students around the living room, the once circle now a conglomerate of ranged young children to teenagers playing all sorts of American games. Erik watched, amused, in the lonesome yet congenial corner of the room, observing how the students, whom were all grinning from ear to ear, interacted with the professor. Charles was in the center of them, legs crossed, as one of them, the most youthful posing of them all. He'd be frolicking if it were a cartoon, the smile so big on his face and laughter so loud, Erik thought he might explode of joy.

Erik considered turning in for the night, Charles somehow able to keep them all engaged and entertained by his subdued teachings within jokes, but right as he thought it, Charles looked to him. The students' gazes followed. Erik flinched.

"Mag-ne-to, mag-ne-to, mag-ne-to!" The students chanted, Charles leading them all, for what, Erik had no clue. He hadn't necessarily been paying any attention to the subject, just to the scene.

It was nice.

Until now.

"Come on down, my friend," Charles said among the crowd, beckoning him to join him at the center. The moment Erik shrugged in defiance, Charles said, "Don't be a party pooper," then stuck his tongue out.

Erik half smiled at that, tempted, but it was the round of booing that forced his hand. Holding up his arms in surrender, Erik said, "Alright, alright," then sported an actual grin once he heard the applause. "What is happening?" Erik whispered to Charles once he finally managed to squeeze through the group. "Am I the sacrifice?"

Charles giggled at that and whispered back, playful, "Not yet, darling. They're deciding on what they want to do to you."

"You're sinister, Charles," Erik purred and looked at all the gossiping teens and loud adolescents, all speaking different tongues yet communicating in perfect accordance. They were most definitely planning something, plotting as if their lives depended upon it. There were some arguments, some who were very keen on their own ideas, some who were just happy to be there. "You listening?"

Charles shook his head, never losing his grin. "I like to be surprised when they come up with their brilliant ideas. It's wonderful how intelligent they are when they're working together, transcending beyond cliques and ages. Much like how I teach them in class, their brains work as a machine, each cog as a person, needing one another to enable the entire machine to-"

"We picked the professor and Magneto to spend seven minutes in the closet together!" One of the children blurted out, effectively ending Charles' partly inspiring, mostly boring rant.

"A-K-A, seven minutes in heaven," another student sing-songed, taunting, gaining a collective laugh.

For the first time, Charles' smile faltered. "Uh," he had begun, voice squeaky. Charles cleared his throat and continued, "I'm sorry?"

A joint sigh.

"It means that you," one of the older teens said, pointing to Charles, "and you," then pointing the Erik, "need to go in there," pointing to perhaps the smallest closet imaginable, "for seven minutes."

"It's usually where people have their first kiss," another declared and earned a scolding from their friend. "I mean, hug?"

Erik pretended to look uncomfortable since Charles pointedly made it the expected emotion, having said with feigned excitement, "I'm sure that would be lovely, but I'm afraid that sleep is creeping up on me, so I'd better-"