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fic: You Ought To Give Me Wedding Rings

Title: You Ought To Give Me Wedding Rings
Author: fengirl88
Fandom: X-Men: First Class/ X-Men
Pairing: Erik/Charles
Rating: R
Warnings: none
Wordcount: 915
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.
Summary: It’s not exactly a well-kept secret, after fifty years. The way Erik looks at anyone who looks at Charles is a louder statement than any wedding ring could ever be.
But if there are going to be rings, then of course Erik wants to make them himself.
A/N: written as a fill for the "rings" square for love_bingo and the "bickering old men" square for xmfc_bingo. This one is for pocky_slash: happy birthday!



Erik knows all the arguments in favour of gay marriage – he’s heard them often enough from Charles. As far as he’s concerned, though, it’s just another drive to assimilation, to being normal. They’ve never been normal, and he doesn’t see why they should start now, just because the law has changed.

But Charles is a sentimental old fool, and he wants what he wants, and eventually Erik gives in, as they both knew he would.

And then they have a fight about wedding rings.

“Come on, Erik,” Charles says, “don’t try to pretend you don’t want everyone to know I’m yours.”

“Huh,” Erik says. “Not that you’re possessive yourself, of course.”

“I admit it,” Charles says, a little less calm than usual. “I want to show you off. I want them to know you’re mine. We’ve spent long enough keeping this a secret.”

It’s not exactly a well-kept secret, after fifty years. The way Erik looks at anyone who looks at Charles is a louder statement than any wedding ring could ever be.

But if there are going to be rings, then of course Erik wants to make them himself.

Charles stares at the gold cufflinks lying in the palm of Erik’s hand, the ones he was wearing the first time Erik took him to bed.

“You can’t use those,” he says flatly.

“Oh really?” Erik says, feeling his hackles rising. “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do!”

“That’s not what I meant,” Charles says, flushing. “Erik, you’re not being fair about this.”

“Fair is for children,” Erik snaps, “and we’re a long way past that, or hadn’t you noticed?”

“Give them to me,” Charles snaps back, “you had no right to take them in the first place.”

“Fine,” Erik says, slamming the cufflinks down on the table. “Is this what marriage to you is going to be like, Charles? Because if it is, I’m not sure I want it.”

He’s sorry the minute he’s said it; but then, he always is.

Charles says nothing, but he looks so hurt, so shocked. As usual, Erik feels like he’s just kicked a puppy. But he’s had fifty years to get used to that look, and it doesn’t rip him up inside the way it used to.

“I want to give you something about us, Charles,” he says. “Is that so terrible?”

He puts his hand to Charles’s face and brushes away the tear from his cheek. Charles puts his hand over Erik’s and holds it to him, turning his head to kiss Erik’s palm.

“I’d love you to make me something with them,” Charles says. “But I couldn’t wear it every day where everyone could see.”

The image that pushes into Erik’s mind is as sharp and clear as if it were yesterday: Charles pinned to the bed, his shirt unbuttoned to the waist and his arms up above his head, held there by Erik’s powers over those two small pieces of metal, as Erik stripped him of the rest of his clothes and kissed him all over, licked and sucked and teased him till Charles couldn’t remember his own name or any other word but Erik

“Fuck,” Erik says, shaken. He grabs Charles by the shoulders and kisses him as if he’s starving, as if he hasn’t kissed him for years, as if it’s the first time again.

“You see?” Charles says, when they come up for air. “I – Erik, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate, wouldn’t be able to function for thinking of that.”

Erik swallows hard; he’s already imagining another kind of ring he could make from the cufflinks, one where the association could only be a bonus…

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Charles says, deadpan, though Erik can see the mischief in his eyes. “Between that and Viagra, the honeymoon should be a lot of fun.”

Honeymoon. Erik hadn’t thought of that, but the idea of a fortnight, a month even, with Charles, away from everyone else’s demands, nothing to do but eat and sleep and argue and have sex –

“I love the fact that arguing comes first,” Charles says, grinning.

“I’m a realist,” Erik says. “And I know you, Charles Xavier.”

Charles kisses him again, a slow insinuating kiss that makes Erik’s cock throb against the pressure of his zip. All these years and Charles can still make him feel as hot and desperate as a teenager.

The argument with the rings is postponed; they’ll find a resolution, maybe just go and buy something together, it doesn’t matter as long as the rings mean what they want them to mean.

Charles flashes him an image of a plain silver ring engraved inside “EML from CFX, always” and a date three weeks from now.

Erik likes the ring and the inscription, but that’s too long to wait, especially with a honeymoon in prospect. He sends the image back with next Thursday’s date instead.

“I thought you didn’t want to get married at all,” Charles murmurs, tracing the line of Erik’s zip with deliberate teasing slowness, the pressure of his fingers against the metal making Erik dizzy.

Erik groans and pushes against Charles’s hand, his thoughts a jumbled mixture of honeymoon and bed and now.

“I changed my mind,” he says. “I do.”

“Excellent,” Charles says, beaming. “I think we should celebrate.” He picks up the cufflinks and hands them to Erik, then holds out his wrists. Fix these and take me to bed, please?

Erik doesn’t need asking twice.




Also posted at http://fengirl88.dreamwidth.org/115656.html with comment count unavailable comments.

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