Take a Break - Charles Xavier

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"Charles," you called, waltzing into his office. The professor was sat at his desk, rubbing his temples with frustration, a pen between his fore and middle fingers that twitched every now and then from when he shook. "Charles, what's up?"

"Nothing, darling," he replied, dropping his hands and smiling warmly at you. "Nothing at all."

"If you don't tell me now," you said in a teasing manner, sitting on his lap. "I may have to take drastic measures."

"Really?" He smirked a little, placing his hands on your hips.

"Yes," you answered, biting back your own smirk. "Now, tell me. And yes, that was an order."

"Just another paper," he told you truthfully. "It doesn't matter."

"It better not. If I find out you're overworking yourself, I swear to God I'll-"

"Beat me to death with a spoon, I know." He chuckled softly, which made you grin.

"Good," you said, getting up and sending a teasing look his way. "Care to take a break?"

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