#turbohell | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

poormeowmeowcollector · 2 years

Text

No One Will Hurt You Again

Relationship: Charles Xavier/Erik Lehnsherr

Warnings: implied smut, trauma, smoking, alcohol, antisemitism, language, canon typical violence

Summary: Charles finds a mutant wrecking havoc at Miami because he's thirsty for revenge. So, he adopts him. (X-Men: First Class retelling but with Maneskin lyrics)

Notes: part of Lu Creative Time Challenge, song of choice is Coraline by Maneskin. Regarding Loki and Two Kings And One Guard, I don't know when I will finish it and go back to writing Loki, but I will see what I can do.

read on AO3

After Erik's interrogation was done, the CIA agreed with Charles' wish to keep him on the mutant team with a ground total of 3 people. The director told them they'd stay in a motel for the night. Moira and the others still distrust Erik, so Charles offered to take a room with him, insisting that he can keep a close eye on him. He didn't lie, but he didn't clarify what eye he'd be keeping.

Italian: Coraline bella come il sole / Guerriera dal cuore zelante / Capelli come rose rosse / Preziosi quei fili di rame, amore, portali da me

English: Coraline beautiful like the sun / A warrior with a zealous heart / Hair like red roses / Those copper-like wires, love, give them to me

The cheap motel room (possibly to avoid suspicion) only has one king-sized bed and no couch or even armchair. Charles freezes, taking turns staring at the bed and at Erik.

“Should I ask if we can get another room? One with two beds?” he asks. He might know basically all about Erik, but that's not mutual, there's no guarantee he'll be comfortable sleeping with a stranger. Instead, Erik glares at him like the suggestion was the worst of insults.

“Why are you asking?” he growls, like he's expecting disgust but is still willing to fight it. Charles needs a second to decode why Erik would snap, and his eyes widen when he realizes.

“No, no, no issue with you. But, we don't know each other…” he trails off, trying to save something. Erik's stance relaxes slightly, the furious fire in his steel cold eyes toning down but not disappearing.

“One night won't kill us, and I trust you are not stupid enough to attempt anything,” he shrugs, kicking off his boots and claiming one side of the bed. Charles sits on the edge, focused on untying his shoes, peeling off his clothes until he's left with a shirt and pants, and hesitantly gets in the bed.

Of course, Erik just lies on his back, head turned away from Charles and to the door, his breathing slow and steady as he sleeps. Unaware that Charles can't take his eyes off him, his lean yet firm body, the soft curls of his auburn hair that the moonlight allows Charles to see.

Erik's not like Charles. He's not a telepath. How could he know? How could he know that he's not the only gay man in the motel room, that Charles's dreams that night were filled with that skilled body, that soft voice, that beautiful copper hair? And how could Charles tell him?

Charles is famished, so he just drags Erik to the closest restaurant and sits down. Erik doesn't even bat an eye, it's not the first time since they started recruiting, and he knows that Charles' telepathy is making him need more calories than a baseline human. And, to be honest, Charles is not the only one who requires a bit more to manifest his powers properly.

Italian: Se senti campane cantare / Vedrai Coraline che piange / Che prende il dolore degli altri / E poi lo porta dentro lei

English: if you hear bells singing / You'll see Coraline crying / Taking the pain of others / Carrying it inside of her

When they receive the menu, Charles smirks slightly at Erik's surprise.

“You will let me order for you,” Erik orders, his voice having that tone that's excluding no from the acceptable answers. Charles nods and watches Erik inspect the menu and then order what sounds like enough food for five people, not a single word familiar to Charles' ears.

“Please don't poison me,” Charles mumbles after the waiter leaves with the menus. Erik shakes his head, a playful smile on his lips as he takes off the leather jacket that has become an extension of his skin despite the heatwave.

“Why would I poison the only tolerable person on the planet?” he snorts and watches Charles laugh at the reaction. Then, they sit in silence, both enjoying Erik's ease with the place, like he finally found where he can breathe. Just because he happened to be dragged to a Jewish owned restaurant during Charles' crusade for food.

“Can I ask you something?” Charles hesitates, he doesn't want to spoil Erik's mood. It's the first time he sees him so unguarded, and it'd be a shame to ruin it. Erik shrugs, waiting. “How long has it been since you last ate what you ordered?” he watches carefully for a negative reaction, but it never comes.

Charles knows that Erik has stopped believing. It's something he found out when he searched his mind that night with the submarine. And, by his refusal to cook anything other than fried eggs and pasta, he knows that his cooking skills are barely existent. Yet, he asks.

“Oh, well…” Erik mutters, trying to remember. His memory is usually better than most, so that's not a good indicator. “Since I was… 8-ish? It was harder for my mother to find ingredients after we fled after Kristallnacht, and I never really learned how to cook on my own,” he doesn't sound upset, not really. But Charles knows that the low hum of his mind is the same grief as every time he mentions his mother, his life before Shaw or the camp.

Erik keeps that hum as private as he can, letting it slip only whenever he thinks Charles is asleep, well after midnight. And Charles knows how to identify that hum only because he searched Erik's mind. But Erik is now letting that hum play, in a public place. Charles doesn't see the angry man everyone sees right now, just someone deprived of comfort, and he's willing to deliver.

“Then, I am sure you'll enjoy them,” he smiles, his eyes gleaming when he notices Erik's smirk, the hum getting more quiet. They're quick to fall into a familiar trance, sharing a comfortable silence that's interrupted only by judging the bystanders.

All until the food arrives.

Erik likes to present himself as a cynical man, someone untouched by whatever happened to him and whatever happens to people around him. He's exceptionally good at this, so good that even he believes it to be true. But after that night in the dock in Miami, Charles knows that he's the exact opposite. If he hadn't been in his mind, he'd also believe what everyone else does, that Erik is cold and emotionless.

And if he did, watching him stay frozen at the sight of the full of food dishes would be completely unexpected. But he knows better.

“Erik?” he asks, his voice low as he tries to not startle him. Erik still tenses for a split second, the dull knife on his right turning towards Charles. He shakes his head, tries to speak, but stays with his mouth agape before forcing it shut. One hand goes to his face, tries to rub off something from his eyes, Charles needs time to realize he’s wiping tears.

“Pardon me…” Erik's voice is barely audible as he gets up and escapes to the bathroom. Everything inside Charles screams at him to follow, to make sure Erik's okay, not alone, anything. But he knows that Erik doesn't exactly welcome emotional support, that he'll just go elsewhere until he recomposes himself.

The food is cold when Erik returns, untouched, even though Charles' body begs for food. He still manages to eat most of the table, Erik nibbling from here and there between taunts at how nothing will disappear if Charles breathes between bites. But Erik's voice is deeper, tinted with that sadness the low hum indicates, and his mood won't lift until the next morning.

“You can read me whenever you feel like it, you're always welcome,” Erik says, still coming down from the high, pressing Charles' naked back against his bare chest. His voice is a murmur, easier to feel than to listen. Charles's head isn't in a better state, he doesn't question. And even if he did, Erik would be asleep before he could answer.

Italian: Però lei sa la verità / Non è per tutti andare avanti / Con il cuore che è diviso in due metà, / È freddo già. / È una bambina però sente come un peso / E prima o poi si spezzerà

English: But she knows the truth / Not everyone can carry on / With their heart split in two / And it's cold already / She's a child, but she feels a weight / And sooner or later she'll break

He still meant it. Never offended or scared as Charles brushes through his thoughts. They would stay silent together, their minds mixed into one, like colors during a sunrise. One would use the link instead of speaking, either for privacy or because he didn't dare break the silence.

And Charles loves Erik's mind. It shines among the others like a diamond among gravel, attracting his telepathy like the most powerful magnet. He doesn't know if it's part of Erik's mutation or just the way he is, but there's no complaint. There's a pleasant mix of everything in Erik's mind, like a busy but cozy room. A harmony of languages, memories, ideas, and emotions, all one intertwining with the other as if threads of a luxurious piece of fabric.

But Erik's mind is not always the best place to be.

Charles's telepathy can sense trauma, spot it with ease. In most minds, it's like a flood of memories and feelings, threatening to tear apart everything with the most simple tap. Erik's mind is unique even in that way. It's not a flood, never a flood. Not even when he is overwhelmed or upset. It's like a pipe with a small leak, drop after drop hitting his mind, the erosion slowly doing its work but never stopping.

Charles is welcome in Erik's mind, but Erik still has areas that are restricted, protected by walls, areas the erosion has affected. Charles doesn't mess with the walls, averts his attention whenever he gets close, and he knows that Erik avoids these places as well.

Only a few times they touched these areas, when Charles was keeping the link while they were both tired and drunk in their motel room. At that moment, the walls were thin, and Charles's presence in Erik's mind was the tap to break them down.

Within moments, both men were reduced to hyperventilating messes, clenching onto one another like their lives depend on it. They tried to soothe each other, Charles apologizing for messing with his mind and Erik insisting that it's just a memory, that he knows how to handle it, but it's something new for Charles. They'll need almost two hours and five packs of cigarettes to manage to calm down relatively, but sleep is long forgotten.

Charles is still invited in Erik's mind, but he knows to keep the walls at arm's length.

Charles is reading in the leisure area on the base, enjoying the few moments of privacy. Until Moira comes in.

Italian: E la gente dirà: "Non vale niente / Non riesce neanche a uscire da una misera porta" / Ma un giorno, una volta, lei ci riuscirà

English: And people will say: “she's worth nothing / She can't even walk out of one stupid door” / But one day, some day, she'll do it

“We need to talk about Erik,” she drags a chair right in front of Charles, stubbornly sitting in.

“If it's about the leftover incident, he said your food is, and I quote, so unseasoned she could be eating paper and never know unless she started farting confetti, so I doubt he'll steal from you again,” Charles tilts his head, book closed on his lap.

“He is a liability, he won't hesitate to go rogue upon seeing Shaw,” she informs Charles, her eyes scanning him. “And we don't know if he's in position to help,” she adds, hesitant. Charles needs just one glance in her mind to find what made her suddenly so unsure about Erik.

The CIA has files on everyone, Erik Included. She opened it, found out about Erik's history with Shaw.

“I assure you, Moira. Erik is dedicated to stopping Shaw, powerful enough to do so and in his right mind,” he smiles, trying to brush off her concern without using his power. She doesn't seem to listen.

“Charles, he was in a camp! He met Shaw there! You can't possibly think it's a good idea to have him involved,” she insists, more upset about the information she received than about the strategy. Charles pauses for a bit, tries to think of his next move.

“I hope that you understand that this means that Erik is the one insisting on this, not that he is not in the state to confront Shaw,” Charles leans forward, smiling as Moira's mouth is agape.

“You can't possibly trust him! He's…” she trails off, and everything clicks.

“I think, if you have any argument about Erik's presence, he should be present to listen to your criticism,” he points out, watching Moira's blood leave her face. “Unless, of course, you know he'll be angry at your ideas, and for a good reason,” he smirks as the woman stays speechless.

“Listen to me well, Moira. You could drop the Shaw case, and so could I. Erik will either kill Shaw or die trying. On this mission, he is the most rigid of us, the most likely to take this to the end. And, if your bigotry gets in our way, I'll have him informed, and I assure you, he has no mercy for people like you and I have no reason to put some on his head. So, either you keep those words to yourself and assist us in stopping Shaw, or we continue without you, and I leave you unprotected to Erik's will. Do we have an understanding?” he watches satisfied as Moira struggles to find words, as she glances at the door, waiting for Erik to storm in.

“He will die trying,” she whispers, her confidence gone. At this, Charles chuckles.

“It's more possible for the sun to rise from the West,” he knows very well that his smile as he forms the words isn't because he won the argument.

No one is up at that hour. Moira and the rest of the kids have long fallen asleep. But Charles still feels the buzz of a mind keeping him up. When he realizes that the mind will just not shut up, he takes matters into his own hands.

Italian: E ho detto a Coraline che può crescere / Prendere le sue cose e poi partire / Ma sente un mostro che la tiene in gabbia / Che le ricopre la strada di mine

English: And I tell Coraline she can grow up / Take her things and then leave / But she feels a monster caging her / And covering her path with mine

He doesn't need to wander around, but he does have to look up at the roof to spot Erik sitting on the roof tiles and gazing at the woods.

«I suppose you are not looking for company, right?» Charles asks, his eyes on Erik as he drifts his gaze from the horizon to the balcony, to Charles.

«This doesn't mean you should go,» he pushes the thought away, a faint smile barely visible in the dark. Charles smiles back, swiftly climbs up until he's sitting by Erik's side.

“I didn't have you for such a good climber,” Erik smirks, eyes back to the forest.

“I grew up here, Erik. I know how to go anywhere in this house. The question is, how did you get up here?” he asks back, his eyebrow raised instinctively as he watches Erik.

“You have your tricks, I have mine…” he sighs, his fingers tapping the metal ashtray he somehow managed to get up here. Charles takes a deep breath, hugs one leg without thinking about it.

“You know, I have been thinking…” he trails off, testing the waters. He knows Erik won't like it, but he can present it lightly.

“You do that quite often,” Erik hums, one hand holding Charles's, tracing lines. He looks calm, that's a good sign.

“Are you sure you need to take down Shaw? You don't owe it to anyone. I understand it's what you built your life on, and it's definitely within your abilities. But Shaw's death won't lessen your pain, won't bring you peace,” Charles is careful, scanning Erik. He doesn't tense, doesn't emit rage like whenever Moira tries to discourage him from continuing. He just stays silent, then slowly brings his cigarette to his lips for a long drag.

“Peace was never an option,” he turns around, his gaze locking with Charles's. “And even if it is, it's not available to me. It's not an option I can follow. This… it's all I know, Charles. All I am. Whatever light you say is in me, you brought back to the surface, it's just there to push me forward, to… help me form an idea of what I want to create,” Erik speaks about a time after Shaw for the first time. Charles didn't even know that he had a plan for after Shaw. He can't help but smile, despite the promise that Erik will kill Shaw.

“And… I want you to be part of it, Charles. That monster may have made our paths cross, but we can make something great out of it,” Erik cups Charles's hand, his eyes moving all around Charles's face. An alliance, a common goal beyond Shaw. A life with Erik.

How can Charles say no?

They don't know how long they've been on that roof, just enjoying the silence, but Charles can see the sun rising between the trees. He turns, watches as the morning light illustrates Erik, makes his hair slowly get back its reddening tint, his eyes claiming that odd color, not quite blue but not quite green. He's never been so glad that his telepathy gives him an incredible memory, that he'll never forget that image.

Italian: Sarò il fuoco ed il freddo / Riparo d'inverno / Sarò ciò che respiri / Capirò cosa hai dentro / E sarò l'acqua da bere / Il significato del bene / Sarò anche un soldato / O la luce di sera / E in cambio non chiedo niente / Soltanto un sorriso / Ogni tua piccola lacrima è oceano sopra al mio viso / E in cambio non chiedo niente / Solo un po' di tempo / Sarò vessillo, scudo / O la tua spada d'argento

English: I'll be your fire and your cold / Your winter shelter / I'll be what you breathe / I'll understand what you have inside you / I'll be the water you drink / The meaning of good / I'll even be a soldier / Or your light in the evening / And in return I ask for nothing / Just a smile / Every little tear of yours is an ocean to my face / And in return I ask nothing / Just a little time / I'll be your banner, your shield / Or your silver sword

“You know, you don't have to do it all alone. I am here for you,” Charles doesn't think before he speaks, holding his breath in case Erik doesn't take it lightly.

Maybe it's the warmth of the moment, or the sleeplessness, but Erik laughs. His shoulders are shaking, his feet closer to his chest as he wipes tears.

“I thought that this was already established,” he breathes out eventually, leaning back until he's laying on the roof. There's something in that glint behind his eyes, that toothy smile. Charles can't help but find himself just as relaxed.

“No, I mean… you can talk to me about things… you can… I won't be just an ally to your fight. I want to be more. Your… your support… your serenity. Erik, if you let me, I'll be anything you need,” he pierces Erik with his eyes, watching as he rubs his face, lazily stretches his legs.

“Can you be just Charles? That's all I'll ever ask you to be…” Erik manages to hide a yawn perfectly, but his sleepiness is loud to Charles's mind. Charles chuckles, offering a small nod as an answer.

“Sure, but can we get down before you fall asleep on the roof?” he playfully nudges Erik, who in return rolls his eyes.

“I'm not tired, you're tired. You just… throw your tiredness into my mind,” the half-baked claim is accompanied by a series of vague gestures on the space between Erik's and Charles's head. It just makes Charles laugh more.

“Whatever, say that when you start snoring,” Charles slowly moves to the edge, watching Erik follow.

He doesn't say a word, just carefully goes down to the balcony and drags Charles with him to their bedroom. Neither bother to change clothes, just to kick off their shoes and collapse on the bed. Charles feels his eyes heavier, maybe Erik wasn't wrong about him being tired as well.

“Charles?” Erik mumbles, face plastered in the pillow, but he doesn't care enough to turn around. Charles gives him a small hum, eyes closing. “You really mean it? You'll be there?” he asks, not alert enough to have that conversation.

“Of course, I love you,” Charles doesn't think before he answers, and doesn't care if Erik reacts negatively.

“Mmm, I love you too,” Erik's words are barely there, he falls asleep before he could see Charles smiling.

They had found comfort in sleeping side by side, on the same bed. Charles feels less lonely with Erik's warm (always warm, always buzzing with life, always beautiful) body at arm's reach and Erik feels safe with Charles's power protecting him, for the first time since he was a kid.

Italian: E Coraline piange / Coraline ha l'ansia / Coraline vuole il mare ma ha paura dell'acqua / E forse il mare è dentro di lei / E ogni parola è un'ascia / Un taglio sulla schiena / Come una zattera che naviga in un fiume in piena / E forse il fiume è dentro di lei, di leip

English: And Coraline cries / Coraline's anxious / Coraline wants the sea but is afraid of water / And maybe the water is inside her / And every words is an axe / A cut on the back / Like a raft sailing on a raging river / And maybe the river is inside her, inside her.

But Erik still can't sleep, can't even close his eyes.

Tomorrow's the day they'll fight Shaw, when he'll kill him or die trying. He feels the coin burning in his jacket's pocket, he doesn't know if it's his imagination or his powers.

Killing Shaw will not bring you peace, Charles had said to him some time ago. Charles, who's now sleeping by his side, blissfully unaware. But can Erik have peace? After everything he's seen, he's gone through, and he's done, is he worthy of peace. Does he even know how to live a peaceful life, when he barely remembers his life before the camp?

He knows very well that his mother wouldn't want to see him get drowned in violence, and he knows Charles expects more, knows that Erik is more. But no matter how hard Erik wants to be that more, he doesn't know how. He has no clue how to be something other than his anger, and then his guilt. He's trapped in the life of vengeance that he formed, a cage of his own creation.

He doesn't know when he started crying, he wasn't even aware of it until Charles is awake, his huge blue eyes filled with worry. “Erik? Come here, please,” Charles raises one hand, laid on his side. Without a second or even a first thought, Erik sinks into the embrace.

He doesn't like people watching him cry, or show any type of vulnerability. And he's sure that Charles has only seen him tear up, shed a tear or two. But tonight, he lets it all out. He lets himself sob, weep, dig his hands on Charles's bare skin as his body and the metal bed frame are shaking. Charles stays there, traces flowers on Erik's back, mutters sweet nonsense with his soft posh voice until Erik can breathe again.

Erik doesn't push Charles away, but Charles lies on his back, makes Erik put his head on his chest, feel the telepath's heartbeat as his feet from ankle down are hanging over the bed. He closes his eyes, focuses on the air going in and out.

“You know, you don't have to know how to live a peaceful life. You can learn and adapt. And I'm sure you'll do great,” Charles muses. Others would be offended by Charles's snooping around, but Erik knows it's his natural state, and he would never kick Charles out. He doesn't have the words, but he does his best to send a wave of gratitude to Charles. By his smile, Erik assumes it's a success.

Son? Son?!

Italian: Coraline, bella come il sole / Ha perso il frutto del suo ventre / Non ha conosciuto l'amore / Ma un padre che di padre ha niente / Le han detto in città c'è un castello / Con mura talmente potenti / Che se ci vai a vivere dentro / Non potrà colpirti più niente

English: Coraline beautiful like the sun / She lost the fruit of her womb / She never knew love / She has a father that's nothing like a father / They told her there's a castle in town / With such strong walls / That if you live in there / Nothing will hurt you again

The asshole had the audacity to call Erik his son?! After he killed his mother? After he experimented on him?

Erik feels his blood boiling with rage, every fiber of his being ready to kill Shaw. Charles, still in his mind, screams at Erik that he's better, that he doesn't have to.

Charles says he's been in Erik's mind, that he knows. He doesn't know shit.

Shaw is frozen in place, holding the helmet. A helmet against telepaths, against Charles.

A helmet that will keep Erik intact, that will never allow anyone else inside.

A helmet that will keep him safe from harm.

His hands are slow as he puts it on, as Charles fades with a scream. Now it's just him and Shaw, as Erik pushes the coin inside the fucker's skull.

It's all done. He took his revenge, he's free. And with his helmet, he's free from everyone.

Italian: Non potrà colpirti più niente

English: Nothing will hurt you again

~~~~~

Taglist: @lucywrites02 @electroma89 @wrenhyperfixates @rorybutnotgilmore @hybrid-in-progress @weirdfangirl2416 @darkacademicfrom2021 @nicoistrying @twhiddlestonsstuff @kozkalovesloki @thewindandthewolves @gaitwae @leucoratia

#lucreatives02 #xmen fic #cherik fic #xmen fanfiction #xmen first class #cherik fanfic #xmen fanfic #implied smut #trauma tw #tw smoking #mention of alcohol #tw antisemitism #tw language #canon typical violence #angst #no beta we get sucked into turbohell like men #no beta we saunter vaguely downwards like crowley #no beta we go to superhell like gay angels #no beta this is war

46 notes · View notes