Come Home (Cherik fanfiction)

Chapter Twenty-Four (Part Two)

This one didn't take as much time as I thought it would, and I'm glad. I owe a lot, probably (because I always write the A/N's before the actually story) to putthepromptsonpaper - a blog on Tumblr that is literally composed of random prompts for writers. 

10/10 recommend. 

But, yeah. So I know I left you on a bit of a cliffhanger . . . However, here we are again. I think we're near the end, honestly, but am I being a bit of a sap if I say I'm not ready for it to? I should go back and edit out all my mistakes, but I really don't want to. I just . . . don't. There's a really crappy sentimental reason why I don't, but I just don't. 

I'm also writing this at two in the morning, if that clears anything up. 

Anyways, what is even going on with this story? Halp. 

Erik

One minute.

He thought of that day on the beach. 

It seemed like a million years ago and it seemed like yesterday. He could almost feel the wrinkled metal sit in his bedside drawer, and pure feeling barreled through him. 

Two minutes.

He thought of smiles over crystal glasses and unguarded laughter between the two of them. All teeth, all throat, and all deep and velvet voice that could ask for the world and be given it without hesitation. Erik didn't think he was a man to play into petty, physical desires, but he knew this wasn't one.

This was so different.

Three minutes. 

This was so much more.

Four minutes. 

This was so much better. 

Five minutes. 

Charles had blinked around twenty seven times, and Erik had blinked exactly eighteen. In those five minutes and forty five combined blinks, Erik realized a couple of things:

1.) He was not going to kiss Charles. He couldn't. It was unnecessary, and he had just accepted the compilation of words needed to explain the way he felt about Charles literally less than five minute ago. And because he was an adult and knew about reasonable things and knew the reasonable, responsible  thing was to not kiss this man — this beautiful, broken, masterpiece of a man. Instead, they were going to talk kindly and speak softly and truthfully and organize the things in their life 

2.) He was going to kiss Charles. He had only kissed four other people in his entire life, and they were all women, but he was going to kiss Charles now and it was going to be—

"Erik?" 

And then he reached out, put his hands on the sides of Charles' face, and kissed him.

Charles 

At first it was gentle.

While Charles would be the first to admit that any verb subjected to Erik's company could hardly ever be described as gentle, Erik's lips were kind against his, like a light breeze in autumn— lovely, but it's easy to tell something stronger is coming. They were close-lipped and just pressing, insistently, and, Charles supposed, just trying to get a point across. Erik was smiling, which confused and irritated Charles because he was caught with his mouth open and clearly floundering for a foothold in the chaos.

Charles was losing his goddamn mind and Erik was smirking like a cat with the goddamn canary. 

Before it changed, Erik pulled away from him. 

"I thought you wanted to talk," he said, smoothing stray hair away from Charles' face. He loked dazed, like he's in a dream and Charles didn't even want to think about what he looked like in that moment. 

He frowned, even though he was not mad. "You kissed me," he stated softly, matter-of-fact. 

Erik had a far away look in his eye, and kept stroking Charles' hair back. "I suppose I did, though you shouldn't blame me for your lack of priority." After a few beats of Charles not responding, Erik raised an eyebrow and snapped into focus. "Do you want me to stop?" 

And it felt like, for the first time, Charles knew exactly what was being asked of him without having to fish it from someone else's mind. He knew what was being bared to him: Erik was asking where they were going from here. 

Do you want me to stop?

Do you want this to stop?

Are you ready for this? 

Charles really couldn't begrudge the man his curiosity, and he wondered when exactly he had become the one who needed asking. (Had he not been obvious in his affections previously?) What really bothered him, he supposed, was that Erik could be so uncertain and so vulnerable, and keep every single, damned hair in place and toothy grin perfectly polished. 

"Well?" Erik pushed, a little bit of his worry peaking through. His hands tightened their hold on Charles' waist (When had that happened?) and pushed him back further. 

And he thought about it. 

On one hand, it was a terrible idea. If they proceeded, there would be discussion upon discussion on everything they had ever said about and to each other and everything they had ever thought. (Of course, it wasn't like they wouldn't have a discussion without a prompt, but this was too specific, it felt like.) They would have to actually confront what this meant and what they meant and if they should be a Them and Charles wasn't quite sure either of them were ready for that. 

On the other hand . . . This was inevitable. They certainly couldn't go back now, and while he couldn't speak for Erik, he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to get this memory — Erik right above him with that look — seared off of the back of his eyelids. 

In this beat of silence, finality kissed both of them on the cheek, Charles growled, and then it was violent. 

So . . . I'm mentally scuffing my feet against the floor because I know it's been literally a year since I've actually written words that pertain to this story, and I know that this is a pitiful excuse for an update, but I hope it's better than nothing. 

It's a peace offering, really, and I hope it works. 

Now for the bad news: I think I'm going to be wrapping this up with two more parts and then an epilogue. I have so many open ends that I have no way to tie up with the time I have, and I have three other fics that I'm working on in Ao3 (which you guys should totally check out.) My freshmen year is sort of killing me and with summer coming, I want to make my next couple of fics really worth it. 

Again, thank you all so much who have stuck with me through this quasi-hiatus and infrequent, low-quality updates. Your comments are what keep me going and I hope you all know how much I love and appreciate all of you. I started this when I was just a fetus writer (as I call it) and you even stuck with me through that mess. This story has been all over the place, but it was the first fic I've ever written, and hopefully many more are to come. 

Please, leave comments. Leave me some ideas of how you want this to end or ideas for a new fic. It's been so long since I've heard from all you, and I miss you!

Thank you and many hearts!