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Chapter Text

Charles managed to bear three nights of constant wails from the apartment next door before he finally caved and knocked sharply on the door of his new neighbour. He was rewarded with the sight of the sleepy man framed in soft light of the doorway, his handsome face creased with tiredness, and his clothes rumpled and askew. A babe of four months or so was cradled against his chest, matching her cries to the dulcet tones of another infant behind them in the apartment.

Plastering his most winning smile on his face, Charles tried to keep the balance between reassuring and forceful. "Erik, get Pietro and sit down with both of the children on your sofa. I'll make up two bottles and we'll feed them together, and then you need to get some sleep."

His neighbour didn't move, blocking the doorway and scowling suspiciously. "Who the fuck are you?" he hissed.

"My name is Charles, and I live next door. I'm a telepath, and you are exhausted, my friend."

"If you think for a second I'm going to allow a total stranger-"

Charles pushed up the sleeves of his dressing gown to reveal chain maille gauntlets over his wrists, a memento from the renaissance faire that he'd thrown on on a whim before crossing the hallway. "If I do a single thing you don't like, you can use your powers to send me flying. Just let me make up the formula, at least."

Erik hesitated for a long minute, weighing up the risks of inviting a stranger into his home against the logistical difficulties of juggling making up two bottles of formula with holding two screaming babies. A particularly loud and forlorn-sounding shriek from Pietro appeared to make up his mind, and he strode wordlessly back into the hallway, leaving the door open for Charles to follow him.

The flat's small kitchen was in some disarray, with powdered milk scattered on the floor and discarded toys forming drifts on the tiles, and a vast stack of empty packages from ready meals taking up much of one corner. However, the counter tops were perfectly sterilised, and the cardboard and plastic of the containers were meticulously separated for recycling. It told a story of a man with a tidy, methodical personality with just a little too much on his plate to be on top of things. Someone who only needed the tiniest bit of help to be back on track.

The water in the kettle had cooled to the correct temperature already, so Charles filled up the bottles and sprinkled in a carefully measured scoop of formula powder. Screwing on the tops, he shook the containers and then ran them under the cold tap, squeezing drops onto his wrist periodically until the temperature was right. Licking the milk from his wrist and screwing up his face at the taste, he stuffed a protein bar from the cupboard into the pocket of his dressing gown and headed into the living room.

Erik made a lovely sight on the sofa, holding a squalling Pietro to his chest and shushing him gently, while Wanda lay in his lap, her tiny hands balled into fists as she expressed her extreme displeasure at the world in general.

"Here we go," said Charles gently, pressing a bottle into Erik's spare hand and sitting down next to them. He gently brushed the teat of the other bottle against Wanda's lips and she opened them instinctively, her frown smoothing out on her face as she suckled experimentally. Using the other bottle to feed Pietro with practised, mindless ease, Erik gave Charles a look that was equal parts grateful and wary.

"There you are," murmured Charles to Wanda, smiling fondly at her as she became gradually more cheerful, really committing to drinking her milk. "All that fuss."

"What-" started Erik hoarsely. "What are they thinking? The children."

"It's not quite like the mind of an adult, more images and emotions than real coherent thoughts," said Charles slowly, wiping up a dribble of milk from the baby's chin. "Lots of sounds and colours. Wanda really likes... a zebra?"

Erik let out a surprised laugh. "The mobile above her crib."

"They're both obsessed with you, obviously," Charles continued, chucking Wanda under the chin and making her giggle around the teat of her bottle. "I think that's fairly normal at their age."

"When they're crying, what's-" Erik sighed, slumping back against the couch in bone-deep weariness, absently bouncing Pietro gently against his chest. "What am I doing wrong?"

"They usually want to be held or want milk. I don't think that's unusual either, it probably just seems like more because there's two of them." Gently, Charles took the empty bottles and laid them on the coffee table. He drew the protein bar from his pocket, unwrapped it, and handed it to Erik, who took it automatically and inhaled it in three bites. "They love you a great deal, Erik," said Charles gently. "I think you're doing a good job."

"I don't think people who are doing a good job at parenting have their neighbours breaking down their door in the middle of the night to come and rescue them."

At this, Charles gave a sheepish grimace. "I didn't think it right to intervene at first, but when you thought for a moment about jumping out of the fifth-floor window, I rather changed my mind."

"I wasn't really going to-"

"I understand, my friend," chuckled Charles. "I'm sure many a parent has contemplated the same thing in the past. I do hope you don't feel as though I've violated your privacy, I didn't mean to pry."

Erik waved a hand to dismiss his concerns. "Don't apologise for using your senses. I don't imagine you can any more prevent yourself from hearing my rather loud thoughts than I can fail to notice that you've got a pierced nipple."

Charles smothered a delighted laugh. "You really are quite something, aren't you?" he murmured with an admiring glance.

"Thank you for this, Charles, really," said Erik. "I'm sorry for being prickly, but I'm sure you can understand why I'm so protective. Would you take Pietro for a moment while I get Wanda settled?"

"I've never actually held a baby before, but I'm game to try it. Anything I should know?"

"Try not to let him fall on the floor and you should be fine," chuckled Erik, nonetheless making sure Charles had a good hold on the baby before letting go. Charles gripped Pietro gently around his chubby little waist and sat him on his lap, facing him. Erik brought Wanda up to his chest and stood up from the sofa in one smooth movement, patting her on the back lightly as she dribbled over his shoulder, then walked away into what was presumably the master bedroom. Charles turned back to Pietro.

"Hello there, young man," said Charles softly.

"Buh," said Pietro solemnly, inspecting his own feet in minute detail, before putting one of them in his mouth.

"Oh, I quite agree," he replied. "Delicious, no?"

Pietro laughed delightedly and blew bubbles around the foot in his mouth.

From the bedroom, Charles could hear the soft strains of Erik's voice crooning a lullaby to his daughter, something in a Slavic language that he didn't understand. The love suffusing each syllable would have been obvious to any observer, but as a telepath, the sheer strength of the man's devotion left Charles a little bit dazed.

"You're going to bed soon," murmured Charles to Pietro. "You want to let Daddy get some sleep, don't you?"

"Ag," agreed Pietro.

"I know you do."

Erik padded back into the room after a while, still looking beautifully rumpled and sleepy. Charles stood, and transferred Pietro into Erik's hands.

"I'll be just over the hall if you need some help," he said softly. "I really don't mind. Just think really loud or..." he grinned, biting his lip, "or jiggle my piercing with your powers. I'll definitely notice."

Erik's smile, while tired, held suppressed mirth. "Goodnight, Charles."

"Goodnight, Erik."

Chapter Text

The knock at Charles' door the following evening was accompanied by a cloud of worry so thick that he raced to open it, sure that something was terribly wrong.

Erik was standing on the other side, holding a bottle of wine and scowling, his jaw clenched.

"I would like to invite you over to dinner," he said tightly.

"I-" stuttered Charles, baffled. "I mean, yes? Are you sure? You look... angry."

"I'm not very good at," - he gestured vaguely between the two of them - "adults. Bit rusty."

Charles laid what he hoped was a comforting hand on Erik's arm. "You're doing perfectly well, my friend. Yes, dinner would be lovely, thank you."

Erik's face lost its pinched look and he even gave a small half-smile. "The food should be finished cooking in a quarter of an hour, but you're welcome to join me for a drink beforehand, if you like."

"Splendid," beamed Charles, and followed Erik back into his apartment, closing his own door behind him and padding over the carpeted hallway in his socked feet.

"Glasses are in the cupboard over the sink," said Erik, striding into the back bedroom. "I'm going to check on the children and then I'll join you."

Charles ambled into the kitchen and retrieved a couple of glasses from the cupboard, noting that the place had been tidied, the ready meal containers taken out and the milk powder cleaned off the floor. There was a big pan of fragrant rice and vegetables simmering gently on the stove, filling the room with a savoury, wholesome scent.

"I'm quite partial to this Merlot," said Erik, pacing back into the room and gesturing with the bottle, "but there's some Pinot Grigio if you don't mind sharing with the risotto."

"Merlot sounds good," replied Charles, placing down the glasses onto the countertop and grabbing the corkscrew from the cutlery drawer.

"Thank you for last night," said Erik softly, opening the bottle with a pop and pouring two glasses. "Cheers."

"Cheers," replied Charles, raising the glass to his lips. The Merlot was rich and fruity, dry in the back of his mouth, staining his lips and tongue deep red. "It was really no bother. You seem more well-rested today."

Erik's lips quirked with something that was almost a smile, and Charles was consumed with curiosity to see if he could pull a full grin out from between those captivating lips. "Yes," he agreed, picking up a wooden spoon to stir the risotto. "I feel almost human."

"I'm glad to hear it," murmured Charles, pulling a teaspoon out of the drawer to sneak a taste of the dish. "Mmm," he hummed. "Delicious. A touch more salt?"

"So, Dr. Charles Xavier," began Erik, passing over the salt grinder. "Are you the useful kind of doctor, or do you have a PhD in art history?"

"One might argue that art historians perform a valuable service to our understanding of our own nature," frowned Charles.

Erik chuckled lightly. "I see I've hit a nerve, Dr. Xavier."

"It's actually Professor Xavier, and I specialise in human genetics, but that doesn't mean I can't see value in the liberal arts."

"Laudable," said Erik drily. "This is ready, I think. Could you get the plates from the cupboard to your left?"

As a team, they plated up the risotto with a slightly unnecessary garnish of micro-greens and finely grated parmesan, moving comfortably around each other in the small kitchen. They brought their plates into the living room, settling next to each other on the sofa, thighs just short of touching, and tucked into their meals.

"This really is an exceptional risotto," said Charles, dabbing delicately at his mouth with a handkerchief. "Where did you learn the recipe?"

"My late wife spent a year in Italy during college. She really was an exceptional cook." He looked down at his plate and let out a breath, his emotions taking him by surprise. "She really was exceptional."

"I'm sorry, my friend. I am so sorry," said Charles, his voice breaking as Erik's wave of grief washed over him. "I realise this is still very raw for you."

"It bothers me that the children won't have any memories of her," he said quietly, voice rough. "We used to have all of these stories that we shared between us, and now I'm the only one who will ever remember them."

"That doesn't have to be the case," said Charles, setting down his plate onto the coffee table and biting his lip. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to Erik's head.

"All right."

Gently, he placed two of his fingers on Erik's forehead and closed his eyes, concentrating on touching each memory as carefully as possible, like looking through a stack of ancient and crumbling photographs. Slowly, a memory came into his view that was blinding in its brightness, every detail depicted in vivid technicolour. A beautiful woman, heavily pregnant, laying on a doctor's table with ultrasound jelly on her stomach, holding Erik's hand so tightly as they both looked breathlessly at the screen.

The ultrasound tech was smiling broadly. "Here's one baby," he said, rotating the head of the scanner on her belly. "And here's the other one. They're both looking just perfect." Erik and his wife locked eyes and the joy that flooded into Charles' mind was overwhelming.

Charles gasped in a breath and let the memory fade from his vision.

"Thank you for sharing that with me, my friend." A few tears had escaped the corners of Erik's eyes, and Charles' hand drifted downwards to wipe them away with his thumb. "I could give some of these to the children, if you'd like."

"That would be wonderful, Charles," said Erik shakily, leaning into his touch. "Just being able to show them to you is... sometimes I feel very alone."

"You are not alone," said Charles firmly. Erik's eyes flicked down to Charles' lips and back up to his eyes, an unspoken question that Charles longed to answer.

A snuffling sound came from the baby monitor and Erik whipped around to carefully inspect the screen. Pietro was still sleeping soundly but Wanda was beginning to fuss, kicking her little legs in annoyance.

"She needs changing," said Charles, resting two fingers on his forehead.

"Psychic baby monitor," laughed Erik, standing up. "You could sell that."

"Well, now I'd have to pay you royalties. Ruining my profit margin." Charles lifted his drink to his lips and looked around himself while Erik disappeared to the bedroom. Erik's living room was comfortable and chaotic, mostly being given over to play mats and brightly-coloured toys - a bookshelf and a chess board in the corner the only sign of an adult inhabitant of the apartment.

He was just fiddling with the beads on an abacus on the coffee table when Erik re-emerged, Wanda perched on his hip, contented now she had been changed and babbling happily to her father.

"They go up to ten, Charles," murmured Erik, amused. "I know you're a biologist, but surely they taught you that much mathematics."

"Yes, I do cover the numbers one to ten in the introductory calculus class I teach," said Charles without bite, "but thank you for the clarification. I see someone's very much awake."

"Awake and liable to wake her brother with her antics," agreed Erik, bouncing the child in the air and making her giggle, before laying her down on her stomach on one of the many play mats, which depicted a cheerful albeit somewhat unlikely tableau of penguins frolicking with lions and squirrels. Wanda looked up and met Charles' eye with a delighted grin, pushing her big wobbly head away from the floor using her chubby little arms and then beating the ground triumphantly with her tiny fists.

Erik sat cross-legged on the floor and picked up a soft giraffe, waving it just within reach of her questing hands. She grabbed onto it and immediately brought it to her mouth, enthusiastically gumming the poor creature's head.

"Tasty?" said Erik softly, combing his fingers affectionately through her feather-soft hair.

"Guh," agreed Wanda, dribbling enthusiastically.

"Guh, indeed."

"She loves it when you do that, you know," whispered Charles, unwilling to interrupt their sweet moment but needing to share his insights.

"When I do what?"

"When you repeat the noises she makes. Something incredibly bright sparks in her mind, it's stunning."

"Fffffffff," said Wanda. Erik shot Charles an amused look before copying her, eliciting a high-pitched squeal of laughter from the child, and a chuckle from Charles.

"We should definitely find you a spot on network television. Charles Xavier: Baby Psychic."

"If my career in academia falls through, I promise I will give it sincere consideration as an alternative."

They embarked on a mission to thoroughly tire Wanda out by playing with her, including a game of Charles' own invention that he insisted on calling "Nellie's Gambit", which involved laying the child on her back and wiggling a small stuffed elephant overhead until she reached out and grabbed it with both hands. Then, he would make a trumpet sound and boop Wanda on the nose with the elephant's trunk, at which point the game would begin again. Erik, sprawled expansively on the floor alongside, was suppressing laughter.

Once she began rubbing her eyes and making little disgruntled sounds, Erik whisked her off and settled her back into her crib, the sound of a whispered lullaby drifting into the living room and making Charles hum in contentment. By the time Erik returned, Charles was fiddling with the chess board, appreciating the craftmanship of the intricate pieces.

"Do you play?" asked Erik, slipping back into the room on quiet feet.

"I do," said Charles, a smile in his voice.

"Shall we?"

They camped out either side of the board, and settled in for an intensely fought game, Erik fiercely menacing Charles' pieces with his roving queen, Charles playing defensively but slowly gaining the advantage and eventually winning outright.

"You're a dark horse, Charles," said Erik after he finally admitted defeat and knocked over his king. "That's the best game of chess I've had in a long time. The children are terrible at it."

Charles chuckled. "Thank you for a wonderful evening," he replied, standing up and stretching out his limbs. "I'd best be off to bed if I want to teach my early class in the morning."

"Of course," said Erik, standing up to politely escort Charles to the door, laying a hand on the small of his back, his fingers warm through the thin fabric of Charles' t-shirt.

"I shall have to return the favour soon," said Charles, pausing in the hallway. "Although my sister tells me that my cooking is too experimental to be called 'food'."

Erik leaned against the jamb of the door, content to linger and converse. "I look forward to it," he laughed. "Although I have explicitly stated in my will that whoever kills me has to raise my children."

"I'm willing to take that risk. I maintain that everything I've made for her has been perfectly edible."

"'Perfectly edible' is not a ringing endorsement, Charles."

"I try to lower expectations early in the cooking process. I promise that you will almost definitely survive the experience."

"Appetising."

"Isn't it?"

"Goodnight, Charles," said Erik, clapping him warmly on the shoulder.

"Goodnight, Erik," he replied, covering Erik's hand with his own and squeezing lightly.

Charles fell asleep that night with a smile on his lips and the lingering impression of Erik's mind brushing against his own.

Chapter Text

"He's a recent widower, Raven, I'm not going to, as you so charmingly put it, 'jump his bones'," sighed Charles for the third time that evening, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbows as he washed the dishes. "I've only known him for a fortnight, and all we've done is spend time together as friends."

Admittedly, they had somehow found time to see each other every day of those two weeks, and the kind of intense mind-melds they'd engaged in a few times did seem a little more than platonic, but he wasn't about to share that information with his nosy sister.

"I'm just saying, Charles, maybe a little bit of bone-jumping might be a good way for him to work through his grief," repeated Raven, swinging her legs as she sat on his kitchen counter. "I'm a trained counsellor, remember?"

"I remember you getting through half a semester of training before you ran away to work at Disneyland."

"Hey, I learned a lot about dealing with emotional crises at Disneyland."

"I'm sure," said Charles, handing her a plate to dry and shooting her an arch look.

"I learned a lot about seducing single dads, too, if you need any tips."

"Raven! I don't want to talk about this with you."

"Who else are you going to talk about it with?"

"I have other friends, you know."

"Hank does not have my experience in this arena."

"God!" exclaimed Charles. Raven contemplated him silently until he sighed and carried on. "He's just a nice man in a difficult situation, and I want to help him. What I don't want is to take advantage of him while he's in a vulnerable position."

"So you do want to take advantage of him at some point?"

"Would you please just-"

Charles was interrupted by a knock on the door. After a brief scuffle, he pushed Raven behind him and opened the door to find Erik, smiling bemusedly.

"Hello, Erik. It's lovely to see you. This is my sister, Raven. She is very annoying."

Raven kicked him and peered over his shoulder at their visitor. "So you're Hot Dad from next door?" she drawled.

"I believe he goes by Erik, dear sister," said Charles tightly. Erik tried, and failed, to repress a smirk.

"Charmed, I'm sure," said Erik. "I came to invite you over for a drink, but if you're busy..."

"No, he's not busy," said Raven, shoving Charles forward so that he stumbled and fell onto Erik, his face smushed against his solid chest. "We'd love to come over for a drink."

Erik grasped Charles by the shoulders and set him on his feet, squeezing a little once he was upright. Charles, mostly concentrating on not sniffing Erik like a weirdo, gaped at him for a second before clearing his throat. "Thank you," he mumbled, turning away to close the door behind them.

"Erik, did you know that Charles has three doctorates and that he was the youngest person ever to graduate from Oxford University? And that under all that tweed he is surprisingly jacked?"

"Raven, for Christ's sake," sighed Charles, rubbing his forehead.

"No, he's never mentioned that," smirked Erik, amused, as he ushered them through his front door. "Although I had my suspicions about the muscles."

Wanda and Pietro were in matching bouncy chairs in Erik's living room, engaged in an intense, babbled conversation with each other. Erik and Raven looked at Charles expectantly and he sighed, mock-annoyed.

"I'm not playing Baby Translator until someone pours me a scotch," he grumbled, nonetheless sitting cross-legged on the floor and giving Pietro his finger to grab onto with his tiny hand, joining in the conversation himself.

"Your brother is very good with children," said Erik to Raven as they poured the drinks in the kitchen.

"Charles is good with everyone, it's so annoying," laughed Raven. "I'd like to think it's because of his powers, but honestly I think it's just him."

"It's not my fault I'm charming," called Charles from the living room. "It's a curse I have to live with."

"Such a charming eavesdropper," agreed Erik, walking out of the kitchen and handing Charles his drink. "Go on then, what's the topic of discussion?"

"Well, they're rather at cross-purposes, to be honest with you. Wanda is extolling the virtues of her own feet, and Pietro is mostly thinking about how nice it is to make noises."

"And you?"

"I am also thinking about how nice it is to make noises," grinned Charles, toasting Erik with his glass and taking a sip.

"Abu," agreed Pietro.

"Besides, I'm not the only one who's good with babies," said Charles, turning to his sister. "Raven is excellent at pulling faces."

Raven laughed, and sat down opposite the children. Abruptly, her face shifted, and suddenly there were two Eriks in the room. The children screamed with laughter and banged their fists, this being the funniest thing they had ever seen in their young lives, and Erik sat down heavily on the couch, a huff of laughter escaping his lips.

Raven's face shifted again and now there were two Charleses, beaming and pulling faces at the twins.

"Hurr durr I'm Charles," said Raven in Charles' voice, sticking out her tongue unattractively.

"I've always enjoyed the nuanced nature of your impressions," said Charles drily, raising an eyebrow at Erik.

"Actually I think she's captured your essence perfectly," chuckled Erik.

"Jump. His. Bones. Jump. His. Bones," chanted Raven loudly later that evening as they traipsed drunkenly back into Charles' apartment.

"For God's sake, be quiet!" hissed Charles, pulling her inside and easing the door shut. "Aside from raising the dead and making me die of embarrassment, if you wake up the children I will personally murder you."

"Charles Francis Xavier-" she began, lips pursed, throwing herself onto the sofa.

"No, no, come on. Not the Francis. I don't deserve that." He handed her a glass of water and some aspirin. "Take these and drink all of the water. I don't want you hungover in the morning."

"Charles," she said seriously, complying with his instructions. "You and Erik are practically married already, it's irresponsible of you to continue without finding out what he's like in the sack."

"Practically married?"

"You're raising children together, Charles."

"I'm just helping. Stop making it weird," huffed Charles, meandering towards his bedroom. "Goodnight, Raven."

"Sweet dreams of Erik's butt, Charles," she called after him.

Chapter Text

Charles was sprawled over his bed, dead asleep and drooling unattractively into his pillow after an exhausting day in the lab, when a piercing scream lanced through his unconscious mind and made him jolt awake. He scrubbed a hand over his face and stumbled to his feet, searching out his slippers from under his bed and pulling on his threadbare dressing gown, before padding sleepily across the hallway and letting himself in to Erik's apartment. The wailing was emanating from the bedroom.

"Erik?" whispered Charles, rapping his knuckles lightly on the door.

"Charles?" said Erik weakly, pulling open the door. Charles was hit with a wave of second-hand relief so strong that it nearly knocked him off his feet. "Thank God. Could you take one of them?"

Both babies were bawling with their whole bodies, throwing their fists and legs in the air in protest against the world in general.

Charles picked up Wanda from her crib, cradling her gently against his chest and bouncing her up and down a few times, making shushing noises. Sitting down cross-legged on the bed, he kissed her little red forehead softly. Gradually, her screams became sobs, which settled down into little wet snuffling sounds, punctuated by increasingly infrequent cries.

Erik was having slightly less luck with Pietro, who was determined to make his displeasure, and his impressive lung capacity, well known. He was still wailing lustily, beating his tiny fists against Erik's chest - which, Charles' brain noted unhelpfully, was bare, and lovely. Now was definitely not the time to notice that Erik apparently slept in only a pair of low-slung tartan pyjama bottoms, but he filed the thought away to enjoy later.

"Here," said Charles, carefully laying Wanda down on her back on the middle of Erik's bed. "I'll take him. You go and make up the bottles."

Erik transferred Pietro gratefully into his arms and left the room without a word. Charles didn't need to use his telepathy to know that he was resting his forehead on the wall and taking a quiet minute to himself before getting on with things, which was entirely understandable given the circumstances.

Humming a mindless tune, Charles dandled Pietro against his chest with one hand and stroked Wanda's head with the other. Wanda was letting out only the occasional noise of distress and was chewing meditatively on her own fingers, but Pietro was still deeply unhappy about the situation and intent on communicating this fact to anyone within earshot.

"I know, darling," murmured Charles into the top of his head, stroking his whisper-soft hair. "You'll feel better soon, I promise."

Erik slipped back into the room on quiet feet, two bottles in his hands. "Thank you for this, Charles," he said sincerely, handing one bottle to Charles and sliding onto the bed next to him to feed Wanda. Pietro turned his face away when presented with the bottle, but eventually was convinced to open his mouth and start to suckle, breaking away on occasion to let out another yell as if to remind the adults that he wouldn't be bribed this easily.

"Pietro had a stomach ache," said Charles, cradling the baby with his arms as he settled down to feed, "and Wanda took issue at being woken up by her brother, which is perfectly understandable."

"I feel much the same myself," said Erik to Wanda in an undertone. "Don't tell Pietro I said that, though." Wanda blew a milk bubble and gurgled in agreement.

"You feel better now, don't you?" said Charles to Pietro, who was finally smiling around the teat of the bottle, his face still streaked with tears and snot. "Do you have a cloth I can wipe his face with?"

"Sure," said Erik, grabbing a muslin square out of the nightstand, passing it over with a grin and returning to tickling Wanda's toes as she made short work of her bottle.

"There we are, darling," cooed Charles, cleaning Pietro's face. He tried to lay him down next to his sister, but he was holding onto Charles' ratty old dressing gown with remarkable strength and made a noise of extreme annoyance when moved. "OK, OK," said Charles gently. "I'm not going anywhere."

Wanda was already making sleepy little noises and rubbing her fists over her face, so, as smoothly as he could, Erik lay her back down in her crib and started to sing his lullaby in a gentle voice.

Despite not understanding a single word of Polish, over the course of the last few weeks of hearing it daily, the lullaby had become ingrained inside Charles' head. He joined in with the singing, quietly crooning to Pietro, who was nuzzling against the soft fabric of his dressing gown, leaving a trail of drool in his wake.

Erik stopped short. "However did you learn the words? You've never spoken a word of Polish in your life."

"You know," laughed Charles, mildly hysterical in his exhaustion, "I have no idea."

"It's nice to hear you sing it," said Erik with a sweet smile, brushing his hand lightly over Charles' arm.

Charles smiled and turned back to Pietro. "Come on now, young man, it's time you were in bed," he said with a yawn. He lay Pietro down on his back, and then withdrew his hand, drawing a distressed wail from the baby. "OK, OK," he murmured, "you can have it back, here, it's your hand now. You own it."

Pietro's crib was on the opposite side of the bed to Wanda's, within arm's reach, so it was easy for Charles to lie down and rest his head on the pillow without removing his hand from Pietro's grip, and even easier to close his eyes just for a second and drift off to sleep.

He awoke slowly as the morning sun filtered in through the curtains, a feeling of deep peace leaking into his mind from all of the room's other inhabitants. The children were both awake but seemed content enough, gurgling to themselves from inside their cribs. Erik was dead to the world, content and graceless in his slumber.

Trying hard not to disturb Erik's sleeping form, Charles slipped as quietly as he could out of the bed and headed into the kitchen to rustle up a cup of tea.

After the kettle had boiled, he held two fingers briefly to his forehead, and then took an extra cup from the cupboard and filled the coffee maker with fresh beans, pressing the button to make it whirr into life.

"Charles, you are a saint," said Erik from the doorway, voice rough with sleep. "Remind me to tell you that, every day for the rest of my life."

"It's just coffee," said Charles, smiling privately as he fished the teabag out of his cup and deposited it in the bin.

"Coffee and a midnight rescue service," murmured Erik, taking his drink. "I do hope your morning classes won't suffer on our account."

"They're undergraduates in an 8 AM lecture, they're already suffering. I doubt there's anything I can do to make it worse."

"Toast?" yawned Erik, dropping some slices of bread into the toaster.

"Please."

They ate their hasty breakfast standing up in the kitchen, making idle conversation and gradually waking up. When it was time for Charles to head home to prepare for his classes, Erik escorted him to the front door, and, before he said his goodbyes, drew him in for a tight, emotional hug, wrapping his arm around his shoulder and burying his nose in the crook of Charles' neck.

"I don't know how I would manage without you," he said in a wavering voice. "I really am very grateful."

"You don't have to-"

"I know you think I don't need to thank you, but it's important to me that I do."

"No, I mean, you don't have to manage without me. I'm always here, Erik."

Erik clapped him on the arm and smiled.

"Feel free to thank me as effusively and frequently as you like," added Charles.

"Have a good morning, Charles," said Erik with a lingering smile.

"Good morning, Erik."

Chapter Text

"Erik!" called Charles urgently. "Erik, come quickly!"

Frowning in worry, Erik put down the laundry that he was folding and strode into the living room, to find Charles and Pietro absorbed in some activity involving a ball and a cardboard box.

"What's the emergency?"

"Pietro has developed object permanence!" crowed Charles triumphantly, as though that were a normal sentence that a person would say, bouncing the child on his lap.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" fretted Erik. "What is it?"

"Just look," beamed Charles, picking up the ball. Making sure that Pietro was watching, he rolled the ball through the box and out the other side. Pietro's eyes tracked the ball, following the expected path even when it was obscured by the cardboard. "See!"

"I don't see at all, Charles. Please explain before I have a heart attack."

"He understands that the ball is still there even when he can't see it," said Charles, in a way that he probably thought was an explanation. Erik gave him an expectant look. "It's a stage of development! It means his higher cognitive powers are developing."

"Oh," said Erik weakly, slumping onto the sofa with relief. "Thank God. You made it sound like a disease."

"What? Oh." Charles grimaced apologetically. "Sorry, I got too excited."

Erik made an abrupt gesture with his hand and Charles' nipple piercing jerked a few millimetres. "Ah!" he yelped, then shot Erik a look through narrowed eyes.

"That's for frightening me," sniffed Erik.

"Hmph," grumbled Charles, rubbing his chest, then breaking out into a grin. "That was quite nice, actually," he admitted.

"Really? I'll keep it in mind."

"Go and fold your laundry and stop interfering with my erogenous zones," chuckled Charles. "Then bring me the other child! I haven't experimented on her yet."

"I don't know if I approve of my children being exposed to the scientific method at such a young age."

"You need to start them early! You don't want them becoming creationists or something."

Erik only harrumphed as he left the room, a secret smile on his face.

Charles, whose normal diet consisted of frozen pizzas, takeaway falafel, and a truly staggering number of cups of tea, had begun to schedule his life around his nightly dinners with Erik. Somehow, there always ended up being leftovers that were snapped into Tupperware containers and slipped into his satchel for his lunch the next day.

"It's nice to have someone to cook for," said Erik whenever Charles tried to thank him, waving away his gratitude. "Besides, someone has to keep you from getting scurvy."

After putting the children to bed, they would settle down together on the sofa and eat in comfortable silence, and then usually spend a pleasurable hour or two in fiercely-fought games of chess. On this particular evening, however, Erik was a less than worthy opponent, leaving his king exposed and at one point attempting to move a knight diagonally across the board, yawning uncontrollably all the while.

"You need to sleep, my friend," said Charles gently, replacing the errant chess piece.

"I entirely agree with you," yawned Erik. "Wanda and Pietro, however, have other ideas."

"Well, that settles it. You're to sleep in my bed, and I'll stay with the children."

"I couldn't possibly-"

"Yes, you could very well possibly. Come on, get your pyjamas. We'll only be across the hall, and I promise to summon you immediately if anything noteworthy happens."

"Don't you have a class to teach in the morning?" protested Erik, allowing himself to be led by the hand towards his pyjama drawer.

"I'll show them a video," said Charles absently, pulling out a pair of magenta pyjama bottoms and thrusting them into Erik's arms, then steering him firmly towards his front door.

"There are some more blankets in linen closet if you get cold in the night," fretted Erik, eager to make this favour as comfortable for Charles as possible, "and there's Earl Grey in the kitchen."

"Stop prevaricating and go to bed," said Charles with finality, pushing him out into the hallway. "Don't make me force you."

"I wouldn't dream of it," said Erik, waving him good-bye and stumbling across the corridor into Charles' apartment. The layout being the perfect mirror image of his own, he knew precisely where to head to, and collapsed face-first on Charles' unmade bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

His first impression on waking the next morning was of books. Immense, almost overwhelming quantities of books littering every surface. Genetics textbooks mingled with fantasy paperbacks and impressive leather-bound tomes of classical literature. The bedside table was stacked high with volumes bearing the mark of the college library. Mixed with the treatises on human genetic mutation was a veritable library of borrowed books on the topic of child-rearing.

Grinning bemusedly, Erik picked up a brightly-illustrated library book about infant development and padded back across the hallway to investigate. Charles was already in the kitchen, stirring milk into his tea. A mug of freshly-brewed coffee was waiting for him on the counter.

"Good morning," said Erik with a smile in his voice, holding up the book. "I see you've been reading up."

"There has never been a life experience that can't be improved by thorough preparatory research," declared Charles, unembarrassed. "Shortly before I lost my virginity, I compiled a reading list that caused an elderly librarian to faint."

"Thorough," said Erik drily, blowing on his drink to cool it. "I should have expected nothing less."

"You seem more alive this morning," commented Charles, smiling gently.

"I feel like a different man," grinned Erik. "I hope they didn't keep you awake."

"I'd really like to pretend that they were terrible so I could milk your gratitude for all it's worth, but they only woke up a couple of times and they both dropped off pretty easily afterwards."

"Believe me when I say that my gratitude is already as vast and ever-expanding as the universe. Honestly, Charles, every parent should have one of you."

"I'm not for hire, before you start getting business ideas."

"Does your work in human genetics go as far as cloning?"

"Ah, a common misconception. If I created a clone of myself, it would just be one more baby to look after."

"The only flaw in an otherwise perfect plan."

"Quite." They lapsed into comfortable silence, waking up slowly as they finished their drinks and ate a couple of slices of toast each.

"I can't believe you've been researching child-rearing in your spare time," said Erik, idly thumbing through the book. "I really am genuinely touched."

"It's important," said Charles, an attractive blush touching the top of his cheeks. "Besides, where else could I find ideas for fun experiments to try on them? It's given me all sorts of ideas for dealing with my grad students, too."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. I've never known what to do when they start weeping," he sighed heavily, "and they all do start weeping at some point."

"You're not such a harsh task-master, are you?"

"Heavens, no, but grad school is... a lot."

"So what's your new technique?"

"Validate their feelings, make soothing noises until they stop crying, and then bribe them with chocolate."

"Masterful."

"Yes, I'm thinking of publishing a paper on the topic," laughed Charles as he walked towards the door to head to his morning classes.

"Have a good morning, Charles," said Erik.

"Good morning, love," said Charles, waving over his shoulder as he carried on down the hallway.

Chapter Text

One might have expected that navigating a twin buggy along a crowded street with uneven pavements and several road crossings might be difficult.

For anyone other than Erik Lehnsherr, it may well be.

"I have to say, this is going a lot more smoothly than I expected," commented Charles, strolling along with Erik as he levitated the pram ahead of them, scattering passers-by from their path with the ferocity of his glare. The children burbled happily to each other from their seats, enchanted by birds that they could see overhead and the bright blue of the sky.

Erik laughed expansively, shoving his hands into his pockets. It was a beautiful, sunny morning and it had been agreed that a trip to the park would be an excellent use of Charles' day off. The stroller was equipped with blankets, a picnic basket, and a rather nice bottle of Rioja. Charles had elected to carry the diaper bag, and he was trailing a little behind the rest of the party, meandering happily along in the sunshine.

They settled near the gates of the park in a sunny spot, spreading out the blankets on the grass and propping the babies up against a couple of cushions.

"This was a capital idea," declared Charles, absentmindedly righting Wanda with one hand as she toppled over and unscrewing the wine bottle top with the other.

Erik made a grunt of assent as he dug around in the picnic basket to find the plastic glasses. "Aha!" he crowed on laying his hand on them. "Yes," he agreed, holding out his cup for Charles to fill. "Very civilised of us."

"Cheers," said Charles, touching his glass against Erik's - the flimsy plastic cups not so much clinking together as just bending slightly.

"Ack," said Pietro solemnly.

"Ack," agreed Erik, surveying the scene in front of him with satisfaction. Charles was glowing in the sunlight, beaming at the children, relaxed and happy in his ridiculous cardigan. The babies were babbling happily from beneath their sunhats, passing comment on the world in general. Erik picked up a stuffed rabbit and waved it at Wanda, who reached for it with her chubby little hands.

"I can't believe you're six months old already," he chuckled as she grabbed the unfortunate creature by the ears and began to shake it. He sucked in a breath and looked at the ground. "I can't believe I've been a widower for six months," he said, more quietly.

Wordlessly, Charles gripped his hand with reassuring, sympathetic pressure. Erik met his eye and smiled, gaining strength from his presence, rubbing his thumb over the back of Charles' hand.

"I think that's a reasonable length of time, you know," murmured Erik. "You're probably allowed to start seducing me now."

Charles screwed up his face, and for one heart-stopping moment Erik thought that he had misread the signals and was about to be roundly rejected.

Instead, Charles burst out laughing.

"What on earth do you think I've been doing all this time?"

"If Wanda starts making grabby hands and going oh-oh-oh, it means she wants the zebra," fretted Charles, pacing in circles around Raven as she stood in Erik's kitchen with her hands on her hips. "If she says buh-buh-buh it means she wants the elephant."

"Charles," she said firmly, grabbing him by the shoulders to stop his incessant pacing. "The children are both asleep. You and Erik will be right across the hall. I do not need this many instructions for one night of babysitting."

"And you have both of our phone numbers?"

"I can just knock on your apartment door or call you telepathically if something happens. Hell, the walls in here are so thin you'll probably be able to hear every snuffle."

"Raven-"

"Yes, I have your phone numbers, and the phone numbers for the pediatrician and Erik's mom and for some reason the direct line to the local fire department. Would you get out of here already and get started on your date? I swear to god, if you haven't climbed that man like a tree by the time-"

Erik chose this precise moment to walk back into the room. "The children are settled in bed, I don't imagine they'll wake you for a few hours," he said, completely oblivious to the vivid crimson colour of Charles' face.

"Great," said Raven firmly, steering them both out of the door. "Please go and resolve all of your sexual tension before I have to have one of you castrated."

"Always a pleasure to see you, Raven," said Erik drily.

They walked through into Charles' apartment, Raven all but slamming the door behind them. They had been eating dinner together every night for weeks at this point, but tonight was special, and they were nervous.

"I'll just plate up," said Charles.

"Did you... cook?" asked Erik delicately.

"My speciality," called Charles from the kitchen. He walked back into the room holding up two bags of takeout. "I made the phone call from scratch, you know."

Erik tried very hard not to visibly relax.

Charles was not an expert when it came to the creation of a romantic atmosphere, but after some quick research he had elected to put a couple of candles in the centre of the dining table, dim the lights, and get out the best china. He transferred the food onto the serving plates and they sat down, side-by-side. Conversation flowed easily, as it always did, and somehow between the starter and main course, their hands found each other on the table.

"I'm glad we're finally doing this," said Charles softly, stroking his thumb over Erik's. Slowly, cautiously, Erik put down his fork and brought up his free hand to cup Charles' face, and their lips met in a gentle, hesitant kiss that held the promise of much more. Charles smiled against his lips.

"You're just trying to distract me so that you can eat the last dumpling," he murmured.

"Guilty," laughed Erik, grabbing the dumpling an popping it in his mouth.

After their meal, they curled up together on Charles' tiny couch to watch a film, Erik's arm slung over Charles' shoulders and Charles' legs tucked up underneath him, his head resting on Erik's chest.

"Would you mind checking in on the children?" asked Erik, gesturing towards his forehead.

"Of course." Charles closed his eyes and rested two fingers on his head. "Raven's reading some terribly trashy romance novel that I'm going to tease her about for the rest of our lives," he said, "and the children haven't woken up. I think Pietro is dreaming about... birds?"

Erik smirked. "How trashy?"

"There's a pirate wench."

"Sounds riveting, I must borrow it from her sometime."

Charles screwed up his face and made as if to stand up. "That's it, I've changed my mind, I'm going to have to find a different hot single dad to seduce. You are forever sullied."

Erik tugged him back down and he landed on his lap with an 'oof'. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, Professor Xavier."

He found the remote under a couch cushion and turned on the movie - something very silly with superheroes and mild homoeroticism - then grabbed Charles around the waist to snuggle him closer on his lap. Charles wriggled contentedly and bared his neck, inviting Erik to nose at the delicate skin.

The opening credits had hardly finished by the time Charles had turned around to straddle Erik's lap and they were kissing passionately, Erik's hands gripping the firm peach of Charles' ass while Charles ran his fingers through Erik's hair. Grinding their hips together, Charles moaned into Erik's skin, licking and nipping along his jaw, while Erik slid his hands up Charles' back, untucking and rucking up his neatly pressed shirt.

Slowly, he unbuttoned Charles' shirt, mouthing at every inch of skin as it was uncovered, and grazed his teeth over a nipple, making Charles give another obscene moan, rolling his hips against Erik's.

"Take me to bed," gasped Erik.

Grinning, Charles stood and held out his hand, pulling Erik up from the sofa and leading him to his bedroom, their fingers twining together. He pressed Erik up against the door as they closed it, tangling his fingers in his hair and kissing him deeply, before tugging him backwards onto the bed. Erik came willingly, kneeling over Charles' prone body and brushing their lips together. Charles tugged at the hem of Erik's shirt and Erik knelt up to pull it off over his head.

Something on the bedside table caught his eye, and he paused for a moment before picking up the book, a vividly-illustrated tome with sticky tabs projecting from several of the pages.

"How to plan a romantic date," he read from the cover. Charles' face turned a very fetching shade of puce.

"You know I like to be prepared," he mumbled.

"I'm honoured," laughed Erik, discarding the book and leaning down to give Charles a thorough kiss. Before long, they had both stripped down to only their underwear and were tangled together under the covers, stroking and kissing and nipping at each other's skin.

In the middle of an intense kiss, Erik broke away and yawned behind his hand.

"Sorry," he said, screwing up his face in embarrassment. "Late night. Please don't take that as a commentary on your kissing, which is impeccable."

"It's OK," smiled Charles, kissing Erik on the nose. "I know, I was there."

They resumed their activities, slowly exploring each other's mouths and bodies with hands and lips and teeth, before Charles paused to give a mighty yawn himself.

He laughed. "You've got me started now."

Erik rested his forehead against Charles', closing his eyes. "We could always catch a little sleep now and carry on when we're more refreshed."

"I guess it wouldn't hurt if we just... rested our eyes for a moment," yawned Charles, rolling underneath Erik's arm and snuggling against his chest.

"There's no hurry," murmured Erik, drawing him closer.

"We have all the time in the world," he agreed.

"Goodnight, Charles," said Erik into Charles' hair, pressing a soft kiss against his temple.

"Goodnight, Erik."

Chapter Text

Pietro Lehnsherr had a bad habit of darting away instead of walking with his family along the sidewalk and would be in constant danger of being run over if his papa wasn't on the case.

"I think not, dear," said Charles calmly, pressing two fingers to his forehead and stopping the boy in his tracks. Wanda, secure in the enormous maturity that comes in being twenty three entire minutes older than one's sibling, laughed raucously at her brother's misfortune and tugged on her daddy's hand to make sure he was looking.

"Pietro, darling, you promised," scolded Charles gently, taking the child by the hand. "If you can't walk with us safely, you'll have to keep hold of my hand."

"You don't want us to have to get the reins out again, do you?" said Erik with a barely perceptible smirk. At this, Wanda's laughter became even more rambunctious and she had to stop for a second to catch her breath. Pietro, somewhat chastened, trailed along behind Charles, kicking at stones on the pavement.

Once they reached the school gates, they stopped outside the playground and started to fuss over the children.

"Do you both have your lunches? And your book bags?" fretted Erik, kneeling down in front of Wanda to straighten her coat.

"Yes, daddy," she said dutifully, then leaned in with a furtive look. "Did you make my lunch or did papa?" she whispered.

"I did, Liebchen," he chuckled.

"OK, good," she replied, relaxing. "Love you," she added, kissing him on the cheek, before doing the same to Charles. She waved at a group of children and trotted away to join them. Charles just about managed to secure Pietro's book bag over his shoulder before he set off at a sprint to find his friends.

"Love you, dads," he bellowed over his shoulder, speeding away.

Erik stood up from his crouch and slid his hand into Charles' as they watched the children head into class.

"Do you think we're doing a good job with them?" asked Charles, resting his head on Erik's shoulder.

"They're still alive, aren't they? Anything after that is a bonus."

"I suppose you're right," he replied, checking the time on his phone. "You know, we still have some time before you have to be at work..."

Erik grinned. "There's that new brunch and board games place just down the road."

Charles looked at him suspiciously out of the corner of his eye. "So your plan is to get me drunk on mimosas so you can beat me at chess?"

"It might finally be a fair fight."

They looked at each other and shared a grin before setting off down the road, hand in hand.

The End.