Eric x Charles

Best Kept Secret

It had taken the children far longer than strictly necessary to wander off in their different directions; under normal circumstances, the mansion fell quiet by eleven - their days of extensive training often left them exhausted, and both he and Erik adhered to a strict seven o' clock wake up call. Tonight had been different, however, for some unknown reason. It had started directly after dinner, when Hank had launched into an explanation of some obscure scientific theory that only Charles understood; after a few moments, Alex had grown so annoyed that he unwittingly started an unruly uprising - one insult was all it took, and soon, his tidy sitting room had turned into a metaphorical battlefield.

From across the room, he'd caught Erik's eye - he always marveled at Erik's ability to keep a relatively level head during these situations, while he struggled to keep the peace - and finally, one yell from the other man was all it took to stun the room into silence. The children, now cowed into submission, mumbled a few words of apology and thankfully went to their own rooms; by that time, it was nearing half past ten, and it took another hour for the hum of unrest in the house to finally fall silent.

Charles Xavier prided himself on his almost unnatural amount of patience. He was, somehow, able to tolerate the most extreme of situations; Raven always said that it was perfect that he wanted to become a professor, because there was no other way that he would be able to teach a roomful of disorderly co-ed students without that sort of tolerance. That patience, however, was regularly tested now that his once empty home was filled with vicarious mutants. His days were filled with training or some sort of chaperoning, whether it was at meal times or during the few hours they had to simply leisure about, and though he wanted nothing more than to lock himself up in his bedroom as soon as the house quieted, his nights were often dedicated to the company of Erik.

In retrospect, Charles wasn't quite sure when this routine fell into such easy compliancy, but night after night, he found himself in his own personal study or in one of their bedrooms, some bottle of alcohol in hand and the promise of a game of chess awaiting him. And when their meetings turned from ones between simple friends into something far more complicated, it had required very little thought on his own part; it was almost easy, even.

Tonight had been no different; he'd promised Erik earlier in the day that he would meet him in the bedroom as soon as the children were asleep, and he'd fully intended to keep the promise. The disruption after dinner had set their plans back significantly, and he found himself, for one of the first times in his life, impatient. He couldn't very well go strolling up to Erik's room while the children were still awake; he hadn't missed the sideways glances across the dinner table both he and Erik were receiving, and he needed to squash any suspicions before they had a chance to fully manifest. So he waited, and waited, and waited - the hands on the clock were moving backward, he was sure of it - until some semblance of peace finally settled over the mansion and he was free to climb the flights of stairs to the other man's bedroom.

Charles plucked a bottle of wine from its hiding place behind the other jars and bottles crowding the refrigerator - alcohol was always required at these meetings, and it was Erik's personal favorite - and turned to retrieve the glasses he'd set out earlier.

Discretion was key at this point; he stepped as quietly as possible across the tile floor and to the foot of the stairs, carefully avoiding the one at the bottom that creaked when stepped upon. He was at the second landing when a familiar voice stopped him, and he could have cringed.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, Raven," He needed to save face, so he turned and put on a smile for her benefit. "I ..." A pause, in which he glanced down at the bottle of wine in his hand. "...just thought I'd have a drink before bed."