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fic: Mr Blue Sky

Title: Mr Blue Sky
Author: fengirl88
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Pairing: Erik/Charles
Rating: R
Warnings: none
Wordcount: 894
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.
Summary: Erik slams out of his apartment and thunders down the stairs to pound on the door labelled Pembroke. The sight that greets him when the door opens is not what he expected at all...
A/N: written as a fill for the "AU: neighbors" square on my trope_bingo card. This one is for kalypso_v.




At precisely 3.23 in the afternoon of his second day in Newman Street, Erik snaps.

“You won't be disturbed,” the letting agent had promised. “It's mostly offices, and the guy downstairs is some old professor type who's never home.”

So what the fuck is that?

Insufferably cheery 1970s pop music blaring up through the floor, that's what. The volume suggests his downstairs neighbour must be deaf as well as old.

Erik slams out of his apartment and thunders down the stairs to pound on the door labelled Pembroke. The sight that greets him when the door opens is not what he expected at all...

This man can't be more than twenty-five; he certainly doesn't seem any older than Erik. He doesn't look like a professorial type, either; model would be more like it, given his looks, if he wasn't so short – which, by the way, Erik absolutely does not find endearing or appealing in any way whatsoever. Dark hair, piercing blue eyes, lips so red Erik thinks for a moment he must be wearing make-up (a thought which ought to be a turn-off but really, really isn't), and pale creamy skin.

Erik has a very good view of the pale creamy skin, since the man is currently wearing nothing but an insecurely fastened bath-towel and a smile.

“Um,” Erik says. He tries to remember what he came down here for.

Hey you with the pretty face, welcome to the human race, the radio blasts, echoing in the tiled lobby.

“The music,” Erik says, remembering. “It's – loud.”

“Oh!” the man says. “Sorry.”

He turns round and bends down to lower the volume on the radio. The towel gives up the unequal struggle and falls to the floor.

Erik doesn't even try not to stare. It's been weeks since he last got laid, he doesn't know anyone in London, he never wanted to come on this stupid business trip in the first place, he's half-crazy with fucking jetlag and he needs something to jerk off to when he's lying awake half the night again tonight.

The man gives a startled yelp – a bit belated, Erik thinks, given that he's already had a really good look at everything the guy has to show – and grabs the towel, straightening up and tucking it back round his waist. He's blushing all over, which – yes, well, let's just say Erik won't be short of material for the next few nights. The curve of that arse, and the things he'd like to do to it, not to mention what looks like an exceptionally nice cock...

There's a crackling blue flash and a squawk from the radio and the song cuts out.

Shit.

He thought he had himself under better control than that. And it's not as if he can explain and apologise, or offer to replace the thing – he doesn't know anything about this guy apart from the way he looks, and Erik's not stupid enough to reveal himself to a total stranger as a metallokinetic –

“How wonderful!” the man exclaims, beaming at him. “Another mutant.”

“What –” Erik says. “How –?”

“Telepath,” the man says. He puts his hand up to his head and wiggles his fingers, which Erik really didn't need to add to his stock of mental images, thank you very much. “Charles Xavier, at your service.”

“Erik Lehnsherr,” Erik says. No, he is not going to say At yours.

Charles grins. Telepath, right...

“Who's Pembroke?” Erik asks stupidly.

“My uncle,” Charles says. “He's away at the moment, so I'm flat-sitting. Sorry about the noise.”

“It's – um, fine,” Erik says. He's just realized that Charles must have heard him planning to jerk off while fantasizing about his downstairs neighbour in bed tonight. Fuck.

“I hadn't realized it would be so loud. The music, I mean,” Charles says, with a wicked grin that makes heat pool in Erik's stomach. “I was in the shower.”

“Hence the towel,” Erik says, trying for deadpan though it comes out annoyingly hoarse.

“Mm,” Charles says, moving closer to him.

Erik tries not to breathe too deeply, because he has a feeling he'll lose his head completely if he does.

Charles apparently has no sense of personal space, though, because he's so close now to Erik that they're almost touching.

“I'm very glad you came round,” he says, closing the gap between them. “Otherwise I'd have had to find an excuse to come up, and I'd feel silly knocking on your door to ask if I can borrow a cup of sugar.”

Erik has no idea why anyone would use that as an excuse, but he doesn't care any more – Charles smells every bit as good as he'd suspected, and it's making him go weak at the knees.

“I saw you in the corner shop yesterday,” Charles says, sliding his arms around Erik's waist. “I couldn't believe my luck when I realized you were in the same building.” He kisses the side of Erik's neck.

“Hnngh,” Erik says, because coherence seems to have deserted him. “Sorry about your radio,” he adds with an effort.

“Don't worry about that,” Charles says, tightening his arms around Erik's waist. “I'm sure you'll think of some way to make it up to me.”

He pushes his thigh between Erik's, losing his towel again in the process.

Maybe Erik's business trip isn't going to be such a washout after all.

***






Also posted at http://fengirl88.dreamwidth.org/106268.html with comment count unavailable comments.

Comments

( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
(Deleted comment)
fengirl88
Feb. 28th, 2013 12:58 am (UTC)
*beams*

thank you very much! I'm glad you enjoyed it - I like getting occasional lines from the film into the AUs.
raffi
Feb. 27th, 2013 11:22 am (UTC)
Amazing job! Loved it to tiniest bits (like every piece of your work, TBH) ♥
fengirl88
Feb. 28th, 2013 12:58 am (UTC)
thank you for the lovely comment! *beams*
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )

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